Page 5 of Soul of the Mountain (Curves in Hope Mountain #2)

GABBY

I can’t seem to do anything except sob in Sullivan’s arms. It’s humiliating, which only makes me cry harder. Surprisingly, Sullivan holds me through it all, soaking up my tears and stroking my back.

Pathetic. Overdramatic. Attention-seeker.

My great aunt’s words echo in my head, blanketing me in shame.

She hated my reaction to thunder storms and let me know early on she wouldn’t tolerate that kind of behavior.

I thought I had mostly suppressed my trauma response, but getting caught in the torrential downpour yesterday seemed to have ripped open that old wound.

Sullivan lifts his hand to cover mine, where it’s fisting his shirt. He gently brushes his thumb across my knuckles, encouraging me to loosen my grip. I can’t explain it, but I feel like if I let go, he’s going to disappear. Just like my parents.

“I’m right here,” Sullivan whispers. “I’ve got you, Gabby.”

I nod, though my head is spinning. This man keeps showing up when I’m at my weakest, yet he’s still here, trying to soothe my fears.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out through another wave of tears.

“Nothin’ to apologize for. I’ve got you,” he says again. It’s like he knows I don’t quite believe him.

My emotions gather steam and barrel through me like a train, crushing any semblance of control I thought I had. Sullivan never lets go, never wavers in his care for me. His steady breath and gentle touches ground me, bringing me back from the depths of fear.

“You okay?” he asks after long moments of pathetic hiccups and tears from me.

I nod again. This time, I find the strength to untangle myself from him and sit up a bit. Sullivan grabs a blanket from the back of the couch and drapes it over my shoulders. The thoughtful gesture brings more tears to my eyes.

“Can I get you some tea? Or hot chocolate?” He stands from the couch, but my hand snakes out from beneath the blanket and grabs onto his.

“Don’t leave me,” I choke out. It’s absolutely pitiful that I need him this much, but my fear outweighs my embarrassment at the moment.

A bright light flashes outside, illuminating everything in the room for a fraction of a second. Thunder cracks the sky in two, releasing an angry and brutal burst of rain. Water pings off the windows and roof, the sound sending me into a spiral once again.

Sullivan settles back down on the couch and pulls me into his arms without a second thought. He tucks me into his side and shields me from the storm outside, as well as the tidal wave of emotions inside.

“Whenever I was afraid of storms growing up, my grandpa always reminded me that good things can come from storms if we know where to look,” Sullivan says softly.

His warm, rich tone pours over me and soothes something deep inside.

“He liked to tell me the story of how he met my gran. Would you like to hear it?”

I try to speak, but nothing comes out. Instead, I nod and give Sullivan a small, meager smile. That's all I can do at the moment. His dark, kind eyes find mine, and I feel safer than I have in a long damn time. Maybe ever.

“In the sixties, my grandpa was a traveling salesman. One day, he got stuck in an unexpected snowstorm on his way out of Hope Mountain,” Sullivan starts.

I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes while he combs his fingers through my hair. I’ve never been treated with this much care, this kind of tender attention and understanding. Can he really be this kind? This genuine? Even after the way I’ve treated him?

“My gran and her family owned a farm on the outskirts of town. Grandpa was near their property when the snow picked up, and he decided to hunker down in one of the barns for the night. My grandma found him the next morning when she came to check on the cattle. Her family welcomed him, made him breakfast, and offered a shower and a place to stay until it was safe to hit the road again. My grandpa didn’t trust them at first. He thought they were too kind, too good to be true.

Especially my grandma. She didn’t want anything from him, just to take care of him. ”

I get that , I think to myself. People who are too kind always have an agenda.

“That’s exactly what my grandpa said, too,” Sullivan tells me.

Shit, I didn’t realize I’d said anything out loud. He chuckles and starts massaging my neck. God, it feels way too good.

“Something about my gran stuck with him, though. He kept finding excuses to come back to Hope Mountain, and each time, he stopped by the farm. He had a hard life and fought for every opportunity he had, and couldn’t trust a good thing even when it was staring him in the face and offering him a warm meal. ”

“What changed?”

Sullivan cups the side of my face and tilts my head up so we’re eye to eye. Does he know I’m hanging on his every word? Does he know he has more power over me than I’d like to admit? This man could crush me. Or maybe… he could heal me.

“He realized he liked who he was when he was around my grandma and her family. He didn’t feel like he had to be on the defensive all the time. My grandpa didn’t know how lonely he was until someone showed him kindness and offered him a place at the table without expecting anything in return.”

“Why does it feel like we’re not talking about your grandpa anymore?”

Sullivan grins, then his features turn serious. Those deep brown eyes hold the answers to all the other questions I’m too afraid to ask.

“You can trust me, Gabby,” he murmurs. “I want to be the one you keep coming back to. I’ll protect you from every storm.”

“Why?”

His features soften at my question. He’s not pitying me exactly, but I can’t quite place the look in his far-too-perceptive eyes.

“Do I have to have a reason? Maybe I just want you to be safe.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them away. “I’ve never had that,” I admit. “At least not since my parents died.”

“Gabby, I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “When did they pass?”

I bite my lips and look away from Sullivan’s intense gaze. I haven’t talked about any of this for so long. No one has ever cared to ask.

“I was seven,” I start. “We were all in the car, heading home after a family night out. It had been raining all day, but it really picked up once we left the restaurant. I don’t remember… I think it was a deer or something. My dad swerved, the car slid, and everything flipped upside down.”

I close my eyes against the memory of that fateful night. The crunching of metal fills my ears, joined by low rolling thunder from the storm still raging outside. Blood. So much blood. Visions of cracked windows and blinding rain flash across my mind.

“I remember pounding against the window for hours until my fists were bruised. I was trapped, and no matter how much I cried or screamed, my parents couldn’t hear me.

No one could hear me. They were dead, and I knew I was going to die, too.

I felt it. Death itself was sitting next to me in that car, waiting for me to give up.

I was so confused when I woke up in a hospital bed. ”

“Jesus, Gabby. I can’t imagine.” Sullivan brushes a few strands of hair out of my face, his eyes never leaving mine. It’s intense and all-consuming, the way he’s looking at me. Almost as if he thinks he’s going to put all the pieces of my broken heart together. The crazy thing is, he just might.

“My great aunt and uncle got custody of me. I found out later that it was mainly because all my parents’ assets went into a trust fund for me, and whoever was my legal guardian had access to it until I turned twenty-one.

By that time, every penny was gone. When the money dried up, so did my great aunt and uncle’s love. ”

“They spent your entire inheritance?”

I nod. “To be fair, some of it was used for my college tuition. My junior year, however, the funds ran out. I called my great aunt, but she just said it is what it is and not to bother coming back for holidays or summer break. That was it. Fourteen years of Christmases and birthdays and vacations meant nothing to them. I know now that my inheritance paid for every gift and travel expense. I still don’t understand how they could just toss me aside when I was no longer useful. ”

“Fuckers,” Sullivan mutters with a surprising amount of vitriol. I don’t think anyone has ever been upset on my behalf. “When was that?”

“Two years ago. I moved out to Denver and became a real estate agent shortly after. It was easy to take on more and more work when I shut everyone out, you know? I got lost in the paycheck and busyness of the corporate world. I didn’t think I was lonely until…”

“Until you saw a different way to live,” he finishes for me.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

Sullivan leans in close enough that our noses brush against each other. I gasp softly at the sensations echoing through my body with that simple touch. His fingers weave through my hair, and he holds my head in place while pressing his lips to mine.

I welcome his kiss, opening up for him and letting his tongue fill my mouth in slow, languid strokes. My hands crawl up his chest, and I hum with pleasure at the solid planes of muscle beneath my palms. I wrap my arms around Sullivan’s neck and pull him closer, needing more of his touch and taste.

Sullivan curls his free hand around my hip, holding me tightly as he devours my lips. I rock against him, my body humming with energy and wanton desires I was unaware I had.

He groans into our kiss, then pulls back, only to drop sweet kisses on my cheeks and forehead. This man. He’s everything I never knew I needed.

I’m blushing and breathing heavily, a bit lightheaded from the confession and my first ever kiss.

Sullivan doesn’t skip a beat. He tucks me back into his side and adjusts the blanket so it’s covering both of us.

Without saying a single word, he guides me to lay my head over his heart while he strokes my back.

I’ve never felt so safe and loved. As my eyelids droop and sleep takes over, the last thought in my head is that I hope this isn’t too good to be true.