Page 24 of Consumed By The Forbidden Mountain Man

"I was scared." A beat. "I was wrong."

Tony exhales. Long, slow. Runs his hand over his buzzed hair.

"If you hurt her, I'll break your legs. Both of them. And I know where you live."

"I know."

"I'm serious, Reid. She's my baby sister."

"I know."

Tony turns to me. His eyes are softer now. Still processing, still working through it, but the big brother fury has banked down to something warmer.

"You happy?"

My eyes burn. "Yeah, Tony. I'm happy."

"He treating you right? Because I don't care if we've been friends since fourth grade. He treats you wrong, I'm choosing you."

"He treats me right." My voice cracks. "He treats me really right."

Tony stares at me for a long moment. Then he shakes his head, mutters something in Italian that sounds like our grandmother cursing, and pulls me into a hug.

"You're a pain in my ass, Ivy."

"Learned from the best."

He lets me go. Points at Reid. "I need a beer. And you owe me a steak."

Tony walks toward Reid's cabin. The screen door bangs shut behind him. He's going to drink Reid's beer, eat Reid's food, and process this the way Caruso men process everything: loudly, with red meat.

Reid and I are alone in the clearing.

He hasn't moved. Hands still in his pockets. Twenty feet between us.

"You told him," I say.

"Called him Wednesday night."

Wednesday. The day after our fight. He called Tony the same night I was sitting in Holly's bakery crying into a cinnamon roll.

"You called him."

"Told him everything. He yelled for about twenty minutes. Called me a bunch of things I deserved. Then he drove up here to look me in the eye."

"And you just stood there and let him."

"He earned it." Reid takes his hands out of his pockets. Steps closer. "I should've done it sooner. I should've called him the first night. And I shouldn't have said any of that shit on Tuesday."

"Which part?"

"All of it. The step back. The being realistic. Every word out of my mouth was fear, and I put it on you." He's in front of me now. Close enough to touch. "You were right. I was doing what Claire did. Deciding you'd leave before you had a chance to stay."

My chin is trembling. I press my lips together.

"You're not temporary, Ivy. You were never temporary. I knew that the night you brought wine. I knew it when you won the pie competition with your grandmother's recipe. I knew it every morning you showed up on my porch with two coffees."

He reaches up and cups my face with both hands. Rough palms, warm skin. His thumbs brush the tears I didn't realize were falling.