Page 194 of Mountain Grump

He lifts his mug in a toast, catching my meaning.

“It was a surprise and a safety net that meant I didn’t need to work right away. So while Sandra went to school, I worked on getting my degree in natural resource management. I hadn’t wanted to go to college, but deciding I wanted to be a park ranger motivated me.”

“What made you decide?”

“The hours of being a firefighter wouldn’t work, not with having to take care of Sandra. And I knew I couldn’t pick a career that dangerous. Sandra… well, you get it.” I nod, glad he doesn’t voice what could’ve happened. “But I still wanted to do something that left an impact. I wanted to work outdoors. I’ve always liked nature and wildlife and getting my hands dirty. And I knew being a ranger was something my parents would’ve been proud of.”

That wave of emotions builds in my eyes again. “That’s really sweet.”

Ethan sighs and points at me. “Keep drinking your coffee.”

I sniff. And pretend to take a sip. “So do you still live in the house you grew up in?”

“No. There were too many memories there, and neither of us was willing to move into Mom and Dad’s old bedroom, so we sold it and downsized into the house I have now.”

“Where is it?” I feel weird asking, even though I know I shouldn’t.

“About twenty minutes from here, other side of the park entrance.”

“So, close to your work.”

He nods.

“And Sandra?”

“She lives near the Springs, just a few minutes from the salon where she has her own booth.”

“Salon?”

“She does hair.”

I perk up at this detail. “Oh, that’s cool.”

Ethan’s eyes lift from mine to take in my purple locks, which are currently a frizzy mess from sleeping.

And it makes me think of the birthday card. And the way he used a marker to color in the hair. And how he used that marker to write inside it. And how it’s now my most prized possession.

I bite my lip. “Can I give you a hug?”

Ethan pushes himself up to standing, sets his mug on the armrest of his chair, and holds his arms open. “Come get your hug, then I gotta go to work.”

I’m careful not to spill what’s left of my coffee as I do the same thing Ethan did, leaving my mug on the chair.

Not wasting any time, I walk straight into Ethan’s body.

He lets out a grunt at the collision but doesn’t move, just wraps his arms around me.

I grip the back of his shirt with both my hands, holding him tight.

His exhale ruffles through my hair, and then a weight—that I imagine is his cheek—rests against the top of my head. “Don’t feel sad for me.” He strokes a hand down my back. “They were great parents, and I miss them, but I’m okay.”

“It’s still sad.” My face is squished against his pecs, so the words come out muffled.

Ethan takes a deep inhale, his chest expanding with the motion.

I want to ask if I can meet Sandra. I’d like to get to know her. But I stop myself from voicing the request.

We might technically be married, but we only met… two weeks ago?One?