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Hunter chuckled and pulled her tight against him again. “If there must be one thing you’re not capable of, Janie, I’m glad that is it.” Hopefully . . . surely by now she knew he’d never doubted her ability to do well in whatever she set her mind to. To be certain of it, Hunter resolved in that moment to spend the rest of his days making sure she thoroughly knew his respect.
“Me too.”
As she snuggled in deeper, Hunter felt the release of anxiety ease the tension in his neck and shoulders. He could spend the rest of his life like this—tangled in Janie’s warm embrace. This time, he’d love her better. By God’s grace, from this point forward, he would do life better.
And please, God, let it be a life with her.
Twenty-Eight
Thoughitwasn’tanythingshe’d have dreamed up herself, Hazel took in the scene before her with a heart full of appreciation.
The Splendor was really something, even in this partially finished state. Beautiful, majestic, but somehow it beckoned one to marvel at the natural beauty of its surroundings. In fact, in the shadow of the mountain rising in layers all around it, and the shimmering water of the minor lake, that grand lodge seemed somehow understated.
Like it was meant to point out the majesty around it rather than to claim such glory for itself.
That evening as she approached the lodge from the ridge trail, Hazel smiled. Hunter had spent the day before stringing lights along the front deck and the roofline, preparing for this evening’s gathering. The first, he’d said, of many Thanksgivings at the Splendor.
A year ago Hazel wouldn’t have believed the amount of joy that filled her as she strode toward that scene. She wouldn’t have imagined the scene at all.
As she passed the tree line, the sound of a vehicle approaching from the road gave her pause. She waited while Bennett’s Bronco passed by, the passengers within all waving at her. Bennett, his mom—who’d insisted Hazel call her Tara—Gemma, and Nathan. Even Nathan wore a mildly pleasant expression.
She liked that. Surprisingly, she really liked Nathan. It was like she got him—she knew what he was thinking and why he acted the way he did. And he seemed to recognize that about her, and felt seen.
The Bronco parked, and the four people who now filled so much of her existence popped out. Huh. From just herself to now this . . .
Miracle?
That question kept resurfacing. And more and more, she felt the keen answer—yes.
Hazel jogged down the trail and met Bennett, who held out a hand for her. She gladly slipped hers in his, and he leaned down to snatch a quick kiss.
“Hi there, mountain lioness.”
She grinned. “Happy Thanksgiving, city boy.”
“It certainly is.” He squeezed her hand, and then they followed the crew, who were already making their way toward the front of the lodge. “Nathan will get to move into a boot next week.”
“That’s good news.”
“A relief for all of us.”
Hazel chuckled. It was no secret that Nathan was getting more than sick of the crutches, and it brought out his worst self—which, to be honest, didn’t take much.
“We’ll have to think of some way to celebrate.”
At her comment, Bennett stopped, tugging her to a halt beside him. For a long moment, he simply stared at her in the dimming evening light. Then he smiled—the sort of heart-melting grin that made her wonder how on earth she’d snagged him.
He could be with anyone . . .
But he chose her. Her heart stirred with sweet warmth.
He chose to be with her.
Miracle?
Yes.
“You keep surprising me, Hazel Wallace.”
