Page 11 of Stone Cold Mountain Man (Cold Mountain Nights #7)

W ade

A month.

It’s been a month since the storm that trapped her in my cabin, since the night she reached for my hand in the dark and asked me to keep her warm. And in that month, the mountain has shifted. Not the land itself—the ridges are the same, the trees still bend under the weight of snow—but me.

I used to think quiet was the only thing I needed. That solitude was safety. I’d convinced myself that love, connection—hell, even conversation—were things best left for other people. Not me.

Then Taylor showed up with her chatter and her laughter and her ridiculous plant, and suddenly the silence wasn’t enough anymore.

We haven’t spent a night apart since. She drifts between her cabin and mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

When the snow started to ease, we dug paths from one porch to the other, a little trail connecting us.

And somewhere along the way, I realized that I don’t just like having her nearby. I need her with me.

I love her.

The thought doesn’t scare me like I thought it would. It feels steady. Right. I just need to find the right moment to tell her. The right words.

That’s the problem, though. Words have never come easy to me. I’m not a man of speeches. I’m a man of actions—splitting wood, fixing roofs, keeping things running. But Taylor… she deserves to hear it out loud. Deserves to know what she means to me.

So today, I walk the trail toward her cabin, rehearsing in my head. Nothing fancy. Just honest.

Taylor, I love you. I don’t want a life without you in it.

I step into the clearing and stop dead in my tracks.

There’s an SUV parked in front of her cabin. Shiny. New. Not hers.

Before I can make sense of it, the front door bursts open. Taylor storms out, her voice sharp with fury.

“I didn’t ask you to come here, and I sure as hell didn’t ask for your opinion!”

A man and woman follow behind her, dressed too neatly for the mountain, their words tumbling over each other.

“Taylor, this is for the best—”

“You don’t belong out here, sweetheart—”

It doesn’t take a genius to piece it together. Her parents.

Pain slices through me at the thought of her leaving. Once, the idea of Cedar Ridge Cabin being mine alone was the dream. Now the thought of her packing up, disappearing back to wherever she came from—it’s unbearable.

“Taylor,” I call, my voice cutting across the clearing.

Her head whips toward me. Relief floods her face, and hope sparks in my chest.

“Wade,” she breathes. She crosses to me like I’m a lifeline. “These are my parents. They just showed up.”

I nod. “I gathered.”

The man—her father, I assume—gives me a look that tells me he doesn’t think I’m good enough to scrape the mud off his boots. The woman’s expression isn’t any better.

“So, this is him,” her father says, disdain curling every word.

Her mother folds her arms. “It’s clear now why you want to throw your life away, Taylor.”

Taylor’s jaw tightens, anger and hurt warring in her eyes. She opens her mouth to defend herself, but I step forward before she has to.

“You don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about,” I say, voice low and firm.

Both of them turn their scorn on me, but I don’t flinch. There are many reasons to be afraid on this mountain, but Thurston and Lovely aren’t one of them.

“Taylor is the strongest, kindest, most incredible person I’ve ever met. She set out for an unknown place, on her own, and she didn’t just survive—she made it hers. She brought her sunshine with her, and this mountain’s better for it. I’m better for it.”

Taylor’s eyes glisten, but I don’t stop.

“You come up here thinking you can tear her down, make her feel small. But I’ll be damned if I stand here and let you.”

The clearing is silent except for the wind whistling through the trees. Her parents look at me like I’ve grown two heads, mouths opening and closing without a comeback.

Taylor steps closer, her hand brushing mine, her voice steady, before she turns back to her parents. “You need to leave.”

Her mother gasps like she’s been slapped. Her father mutters something under his breath, then storms toward the SUV. They climb in, slam the doors, and drive off, tires spitting slush and gravel in its wake.

The second they’re gone, Taylor collapses against me. I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers into my chest. “You shouldn’t have had to—”

I tip her chin up. “I tried to come up with the perfect way to tell you how I feel. Yelling at your parents wasn’t part of the plan.”

She laughs, watery but real. “It was perfect.”

I cup her face, my thumb brushing her cheek. “You are perfect. I love you, Taylor. I didn’t know I could feel this way, but I do. I don’t ever want to live a day without you in it.”

Her smile is radiant, brighter than any sunbeam slipping through the trees. “I love you too, Wade.”

The words hit me like a hammer and a balm all at once—heavy with truth, soothing every crack I didn’t realize was there.

For too long I told myself that I wanted the solitude in my life, but it’s at this moment that I realize that I’d just been afraid of not finding someone I could be myself with.

I built a stone-cold wall around my heart to protect myself.

But this loud and loving beauty in front of me came in like a wrecking ball and tore it all down.

I lower my mouth to hers, and the kiss is everything—soft, fierce, a promise sealed between us.

The mountain around us doesn’t change. The pines still sway, the snow still falls in slow, quiet flakes.

But me?

My world tilts and locks into place.

For the first time, it truly feels like home.