Page 29

The fire in the hearth was burning low, just glowing coals now, slow-pulsing embers casting warmth into the corners of the private cabin nestled on the edge of the forest. Outside, the sky was lavender and rose, tinged with dusk.

The first faint calls of owls echoed through the thinning pines, and frost kissed the windows like lace pressed to glass.

Inside, Natalie sat on the worn brown leather couch, her hands folded tightly in her lap, her fingertips faintly chilled despite the heat from the fire.

She could hear her heart in her ears, steady but unrelenting.

Her mouth was dry, her thoughts a thrum of anticipation and fear.

No matter how many times she’d rehearsed this moment, nothing could settle her nerves now that it was real.

Across from her, Olivia and Davey shared the matching armchair, Olivia perched carefully, her cane beside her, and Davey leaning forward slightly, his long legs stretched out, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes flicked from Natalie to Mason and back again, sensing something in the air.

Mason sat beside Natalie, his hands resting on his knees. Every now and then, his fingers twitched, and he glanced toward her, but he didn’t speak. He was letting her lead. She had asked him for that.

The cabin was quiet except for the slow creak of settling wood and the faint pop of the fire. Natalie swallowed. It wasn’t just the words themselves. It was the moment. The pause before the fall. The air heavy with something about to shift.

She glanced at Mason, who gave her a small nod. His eyes, dark and steady, held no pressure. Just support. His quiet patience wrapped around her like a blanket that both soothed and stirred her anxiety.

She turned back to Olivia and Davey and took a breath that felt bigger than her lungs.

“I’m pregnant,” she said.

The words landed softly, like snowfall. But they stirred the room as though thunder had rolled through it. Olivia smiled, there to support her son, already knowing Natalie’s condition. “This is wonderful news.” She turned to Davey, “Davey, you’re going to be a big brother.”

Then Olivia stood, slowly, carefully, but with purpose and crossed the small space between them. Her face, usually composed with strength and a touch of mischief, had softened into something maternal and luminous.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered, wrapping Natalie in her arms. “This is beautiful news.”

Natalie exhaled into the embrace. Her hands clutched lightly at Olivia’s back, grounding herself. Her throat felt thick, and her eyes stung, and something inside her that had been coiled so tightly began to loosen.

“I know things… things haven’t been simple between us lately.”

Olivia leaned back, both hands on Natalie’s arms now, tears shimmering. “There is nothing more healing than new life. Especially when it grows from love. And from loss. It means you haven’t given up.”

Natalie glanced down at her abdomen and blinked quickly. “I didn’t plan this. But I don’t think I could let it go now.”

Olivia pulled her into another brief hug before turning toward Mason and reaching for his hand.

“You’re going to be a father again.”

Mason’s smile was slow, cautious, and warm. “I still can’t quite believe it.”

Davey had been quiet. He shifted now, sitting straighter, his expression unreadable.

Natalie turned toward him. “We wanted to tell you in person. Before anyone else.”

Davey nodded once, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I appreciate that.”

There was silence again, not cold, but uncertain. As though they were all trying to figure out what this news meant to each of them.

“I know this is… a lot to take in,” Natalie said gently. “And I want you to know this doesn’t change what’s already been built between us. It just… adds to it. If we let it.”

Davey ran a hand through his hair, then let it fall to his lap. He looked at Mason.

“You knew when you told me you were my father?” he asked quietly.

Mason shook his head. “No. I didn’t. I found out afterward. After the fire.”

“I’m pleased for you, I really am.”

Mason’s voice was calm but weighted. “I didn’t want to make things more complicated between us and nothing changes what I said about us.”

Davey looked at Natalie, then down at the floor. “Okay. ”

The word was simple. Heavy. A placeholder for more complicated emotions.

“I’m not upset,” he added after a moment. “Just… I’ve never had something like this before. A whole family.”

Natalie’s heart softened. She reached out and placed a hand gently on his arm. “You’re not losing anything, Davey. You’re gaining.”

He gave her a faint smile. “Guess I’ll be the cool older brother.”

Olivia laughed through her tears. “That poor baby.”

Mason smiled at Davey with more pride than he could voice.

The tension broke like a thawing river. Olivia wiped her eyes with a corner of her sweater. “I didn’t realize how much we all needed good news,” she whispered.

“I didn’t realize I could be part of it,” Natalie whispered back.

They sat again, and Olivia poured tea, her hands steady even as her eyes glistened.

“This baby,” she said, handing Natalie a mug, “is going to be so loved. By all of us.”

The fire popped softly behind them. Outside, a breeze stirred the branches, and the scent of pine drifted in through the window screen.

Natalie looked around the room. The cabin was plain, built for utility, not beauty. But in that moment, surrounded by these people, it felt sacred. A beginning.

“I want this child to know joy,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “Not just from being loved. But from watching people who love each other. Who show up. No matter what.”

Mason shifted closer, his hand reaching for hers. “We’ll give them that,” he said. “Together.”

Natalie pressed a hand to her belly, where life had begun again.

And for the first time in what felt like years, she didn’t just believe in tomorrow.

She welcomed it. The fire had burned down to embers again by the time Olivia and Davey left the cabin.

Outside, the wind had calmed, and a hush had settled over the sanctuary grounds like a woolen blanket.

The kind of silence only found in mountain places, thick, reverent, and full of old things, ancient, spiritual, wild and watching.

Natalie stood by the window, her arms wrapped around herself as porch lanterns swayed in the breeze. The reflection of her own face, pale and drawn in the glass, stared back at her. Behind her, Mason moved quietly, tidying up their mugs, stoking the fire one last time with a metal poker.

He didn’t speak right away. He knew enough about Natalie by now to recognize when her mind was louder than her words. The seasons had come and passed since she’d come to the sanctuary. It felt like a lifetime and yet also like yesterday. Now here they were.

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you,” he said, softly.

Natalie turned from the window, blinking as though pulled from a dream. Her lips parted, but no words came. She didn’t expect that. Not so simply.

He stood a few feet from her, firelight tracing the contours of his face, the lines at his eyes, the weather-worn skin of his hands.

Hands that had carried birds, stitched wounds, built shelters from splintered wood and willpower.

Hands that had, more than once, held her together without ever squeezing too tight.

“I need you to hear that,” he continued, stepping closer. “Because I know I haven’t always said the right things. I’ve made mistakes. I should’ve told you things sooner. I should’ve fought harder when things got quiet between us. I let my fear speak when I should’ve listened.”

Natalie lowered her gaze, her throat thick with emotion.

“But,” Mason added, “I’m here. And I’m staying. For you. For this baby. For us. ”

She looked up at him then, tears shining unshed in her eyes. “I don’t need a rescue, Mason.”

“I know.” He smiled. “That’s one of the things I love most about you.”

She let out a soft, choked laugh and shook her head. “How did we even get here?”

Mason stepped close enough to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “Because we didn’t run away from the hard things. At least… not forever.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the fire casting long shadows behind them.

“You remember that first night?” she asked. “When I arrived here, angry and hollow and pretending I was fine?”

He nodded. “You wore that green coat and gave me a lecture on ethical sedation techniques.”

“You were using a tranquilizer dart on a fox that didn’t need one.”

“I was improvising.”

“You were showing off.”

“Maybe.”

They both smiled.

“I didn’t expect you to last two weeks,” he admitted.

“I didn’t expect to stay.”

“And yet…” He reached for her hands and held them between his. “Here we are.”

She looked at their joined fingers, at the quiet strength in the man before her. “I’m scared, Mason. Not just about the baby, about everything. Loving you. Letting myself believe in this.”

He nodded, his voice low and sure. “Me too. But I promise you this, whatever comes, I won’t let you do it alone. I won’t let you down.”

She swallowed hard. “I want to believe that.”

“Then let me show you. ”

He reached out and gently touched her belly, hesitant at first, his hand warm through the fabric of her sweater.

“I don’t know what kind of father I’ll be,” he said honestly. “But I want to try. I want to give this child the kind of start neither of us had.”

She stepped into his arms then, finally, and let her head rest against his chest. His arms folded around her, steady and quiet, the rhythm of his heart a soft reassurance beneath her cheek.

In that moment, they weren’t two people bracing against the past. They were a family beginning.

Still tender. Still healing. But together.

Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, and the wolves answered with a low, echoing song. Inside the cabin, two people stood at the edge of something sacred. And chose, once again, to hold on.

They sat together on the floor in front of the fire, the thick woven rug warm beneath them and a blanket draped over their legs.

The air between them had softened into something golden, like the dying light of day caught inside a snow globe.

The embers crackled beside them, and the scent of burning cedar drifted through the cabin like something holy.

Natalie had curled into Mason’s side, her head resting on his shoulder, their fingers lazily intertwined. For the first time in what felt like months, they weren’t rushing to fix something. Or protect something. Or escape from something. They were just there. In it. Together.

“I keep thinking about names,” she said after a while.

Mason turned his head slightly, smiling. “Already?”

“I can’t help it.” She sat up straighter, one hand pressed instinctively to her belly. “They just keep popping into my head like little sparks. I’m not even sure why. Maybe it makes it feel more real.”

“Got any front-runners? ”

She tilted her head, considering. “Maybe something old-fashioned. But not too frilly. Strong. Something with roots.”

Mason chuckled. “You know we’re going to spend the next few months vetoing each other.”

“You say that like you’ll get a vote.”

He laughed again, the sound deep and warm and familiar. “Oh, I see how this is going to go.”

“I’m growing the baby,” she said, mock-defensive, “I get primary naming rights.”

Mason reached for her hand, lifting it to his lips. “Fair. But I’m in charge of bedtime stories.”

Natalie’s face softened. “Deal.”

They sat in a companionable silence for a moment. It wrapped around them like a well-worn quilt. Outside, snow had begun to fall, fine and powdery, sticking only in the corners of windowsills and fence posts. Inside, everything glowed with contentment and firelight.

“Do you think it’s always like this?” Natalie asked quietly. “Happiness. Does it ever just… stay?”

Mason was quiet for a moment. Then he answered honestly.

“I don’t think it stays the same,” he said. “I think it changes shape. But I think it can last if we keep choosing it.”

She turned her face toward him, eyes glossy. “I’m tired of not being in control.”

“So, let’s stop letting fate dictate,” he said gently. “Let’s look forward, commit to being happy and living life how we want it to be.”

She leaned in, brushing her nose against his, and smiled. “You’re getting poetic on me.”

He smiled, too. “Must be the baby.”

Then he reached behind the cushion he’d been sitting against. Natalie didn’t notice at first, not until he shifted and turned back around, something small and dark in his hand .

When he held it out to her, she stared.

It was a velvet box.

Her breath caught.

“Mason…”

He didn’t rush. He held it there in his palm, steady, the firelight catching in the softness of the velvet.

“I’ve had this for a while,” he said quietly. “Since before the fire. Before everything fell apart. I didn’t know when the right moment would be. And I sure as hell didn’t want it to be out of pressure or chaos.”

Natalie couldn’t speak. Her hands trembled slightly in her lap. He opened the box slowly.

Inside was a simple diamond ring, elegant, understated, the kind of beauty that didn’t need to shout. The center stone was oval, set in a delicate band that shimmered faintly in the firelight.

“I love you,” Mason said. “Not just the woman that stands strong in front of everyone, or the one who heals animals better than I ever could. I love the woman who came here broken and never let the cracks stop her from building something new. I love the woman who sits beside me right now, for good or bad, in sickness and childbirth and whatever life throws at us.”

She covered her mouth, eyes filled to the brim.

“I don’t want to wait for perfect,” he continued. “I don’t care about a big wedding or a timeline that makes sense to anyone else. I just want you. And this baby. And a life we build with both hands.”

He held the ring toward her. “Natalie Carrington… will you marry me?”

Her tears spilled over, slow and soundless. But her smile was radiant.

“Yes,” she whispered. Then louder: “Yes. Of course, yes.”

He slipped the ring onto her finger, and it fit perfectly. Like it had always been waiting there. Then he pulled her into his arms, and she kissed him through laughter and tears, through the smoke of the fire and the fading ache of everything they’d overcome.

Outside, the snow continued to fall. Inside, two hearts beat against one another in a rhythm that had finally found its home.