Page 5

Brittany

I slipped out of bed before dawn, careful not to wake Elias, and padded to the bathroom on shaking legs. Every muscle in my body ached in the most delicious way, and I was pretty sure I had beard burn in places that would make me blush for a week.

But lying there in his bed, wrapped in sheets that smelled like him and sex, I’d felt more like myself than I had in years.

Maybe ever. This wasn’t the Brittany who apologized for taking up space, who made herself smaller to fit into other people’s expectations.

This was someone new. Someone who took what she wanted and didn’t apologize for it.

I stared at myself in his bathroom mirror—hair wild, lips swollen, marks on my neck and shoulders where he’d been less than gentle. The woman looking back at me didn’t look ashamed or embarrassed.

She looked satisfied. Confident.

She looked like someone who’d finally figured out who she was supposed to be.

The contrast was stark—this confident, satisfied woman versus the anxious people-pleaser I’d been just days ago. The Brittany who’d gotten lost in the woods had been running from her life. This Brittany looked ready to claim one.

But what kind of life? And where?

I splashed water on my face, trying to get my thoughts in order. Because reality was creeping in around the edges of this perfect bubble we’d created, and I needed to figure out what the hell I was going to do.

My life, such as it was, was waiting for me in the city.

My job expected me back on Monday. The thought of walking back into that soul-crushing place made my skin crawl.

Sitting in my beige cubicle under those fluorescent lights, processing insurance claims for people I’d never meet, pretending to care about coverage limits and deductibles…

How had I convinced myself that was living? How had I settled for so little for so long?

And my apartment—that tiny studio with its view of nothing, where I ate takeout alone and watched movies or the newest sitcom until I fell asleep on my lumpy couch.

Where the most exciting thing that happened was when the upstairs neighbor had loud sex on Tuesday nights.

Where I’d lived like a ghost haunting my own life.

The thought of going back to my beige existence, made my chest tight with panic.

The thought of leaving Elias made my whole body shake.

I’d found something here. Someone.

This cabin had become more of a home in two days than my apartment had been in three years.

Everything here felt real—the worn wooden floors under my bare feet, the smell of coffee and freshly chopped wood, the way the light filtered through the trees like a green kaleidoscope.

Even the silence felt different here. Not empty and lonely like it was in the city, but full of possibility.

And Elias. Elias. He looked at me like I was something worth fighting for. Like I was enough exactly as I was. When was the last time anyone had looked at me like that? When had anyone made me feel like I was worth taking a risk for?

I got dressed in yesterday’s clothes and made my way to the kitchen. I started a pot of coffee and stepped out onto the front porch.

The morning was perfect. Crisp air, a hint of fog rolling over the mountains that stretched endlessly in every direction. I settled on the wooden steps, trying to sort through the chaos in my head.

Two days. I’d known this man for two days, and I was considering throwing away my entire life for him.

The smart thing would be to go back. Thank him for the incredible night, exchange numbers, maybe visit sometime. Keep my job, my apartment, my safe little life that never asked too much of me.

But I didn’t want to be smart anymore.

I wanted to be brave.

I heard the door opening behind me but didn’t turn around. Couldn’t. My heart did that stupid fluttery thing it had been doing since I’d first seen him. Just the sound of his footsteps made me want things I’d never let myself want before.

He didn’t say anything either. Just settled on the steps beside me. Close enough to catch his scent that had surrounded me all night. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body.

Close enough to make me remember exactly what we’d shared last night.

“I don’t want to go back.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, raw and honest and desperate. I couldn’t look at him when I said it, just kept staring straight ahead like the admission had been torn out of me.

I felt him go still beside me.

“Back where?” His voice was careful, neutral.

“To the retreat. To my life. To pretending I’m someone I’m not.” I finally turned to face him, and his expression gave me the courage to continue. “They’re probably out looking for me right now, thinking I’m lost or hurt or—”

“They’re not looking for you.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I called it in yesterday. Let the retreat organizers know you were safe.”

“How?” I gestured around us. “There’s no cell service up here.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking awkward. “Satellite phone. For emergencies.”

I didn’t know whether to be relieved or affronted that he hadn’t offered me the chance to call someone. “You have a satellite phone and didn’t tell me?”

“Figured you needed time to think without outside pressure. You were pretty shaken up when I found you.”

I stared at him, processing. “So they know I’m okay?”

“They know you’re with me.” He paused, and the weight of those words settled between us. “Question is, do you want to be?”

This was it—the moment of truth.

The silence stretched between us, and I could feel him holding his breath, waiting for my answer. When had this become so important? When had this man become so essential that the thought of walking away felt like tearing off a piece of my soul?

“Am I?” I asked softly. “With you?”

Something flickered in his eyes—hope, fear, something raw and vulnerable. He reached out, cupping my face in his hands, and I leaned into the touch automatically. “If you want to be. But you need to know what that means.”

“Tell me.”

“It means choosing this. Choosing me. Choosing a life that’s nothing like what you had before.” His thumb stroked across my cheekbone. “It means staying here, with a man who’s spent the last few years hiding from the world.”

The vulnerability in his voice made me almost not ask the next question. But we needed everything out in the open—or as much as he was willing to give me. Could give me. “Why? Why were you hiding?”

I watched him struggle with the question, saw the moment he decided to trust me with the truth.

“Because caring about people gets them killed,” he said simply. “Because I used to be the guy who saved people, and then I almost lost one of the people who matter most to me.”

My heart clenched, but I didn’t say anything. I let him tell me in his own way.

“I worked for search and rescue in Colorado. My partner became my best friend. We met on the first day on the job. Our last rescue went sideways. Three people trapped on the mountain, no shelter. No safe way down. We went up—and he almost didn’t make it back down.

Because of me. Because I made a bad decision. ”

Understanding crashed over me. This was why he lived alone, why he’d been so reluctant to help me, why he held himself apart from everyone.

I covered one of his hands with mine, leaning into his touch. “Whatever happened, Elias, it wasn’t your fault. He knew the risks, just like you.” I knew the words sounded hollow, but I also knew he needed to hear them.

He nodded. “I know that. Now. It’s taken a while for me to get over it.”

“And now?” I asked softly.

“Now I’m terrified of losing you too,” he admitted. “But I’m more terrified of letting you go.”

The honesty in his voice undid me completely.

I knew where he was coming from. I’d spent three years of settling for less than I deserved.

Three years of shrinking myself down to fit into spaces that were too small, relationships that asked too little of me, dreams I’d let atrophy from neglect.

I’d become an expert at convincing myself that disappointment was just part of being an adult.

But here I was, sitting on a mountain man’s porch in yesterday’s clothes, and I felt more alive than I had since... when? College? High school? Had I ever felt this aware of my own power, my own worth?

“Then don’t. Don’t let me go.”

“Brittany—”

“I’m not going anywhere, Elias. Not unless you tell me to.”

The relief that crashed across his face was overwhelming. He leaned forward, capturing my mouth in a kiss that tasted like the beginning of something I’d never dared to hope for, but always secretly dreamed of having.

When we broke apart, both breathing hard, I laughed—soft and breathless and full of wonder.

“So what happens now?” I asked.

“Now,” he said, standing and pulling me up with him. “Now, I show you what it means to be mine.”

Heat flared low in my belly at the possessive promise in his voice. “Here? On the porch?”

“Everywhere.” He backed me up against the cabin wall. “Starting with right here.”

I gasped as he lifted me in his arms, one strong arm under my knees, the other wrapped around my back. I marveled at how perfectly I fit against him. Like I was made for this. Made for him.

“Elias.” His name was just a whisper against his neck, but he understood.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” he warned, carrying me to the door. “I’m about to show you exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

And as he carried me over the threshold—literally carried me into our new life together—I realized something important.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid of the unknown.

Of taking a chance. Ready for whatever came next.

As long as it was with him.