Page 80 of Mountain Hero

I have the woman I love in my arms. And she loves me back.

Gathering Winter back to my chest, I press soft kisses to the top of her head while I blink back tears. “I love you, Winter. More than anything.”

CHAPTER 21

WINTER

I can tell something’s bothering Enzo.

It’s not that he’s said anything unusual or treated me differently. He’s still the same thoughtful, protective Enzo he’s always been—always checking on me to see if I’m feeling okay, hugging me, stroking my hair, kissing me, jumping to get anything he thinks I might need.

Maybe he’s a little over the top with some of it, like rubbing arnica cream on all of my bruises and insisting I relax instead of working on my design projects because you can never be too careful with a head injury.

I don’t have a concussion. The doctor in the emergency room reassured Enzo several times that it was just a nasty bruise and I’d be perfectly fine. But Enzo was beside himself with worry, so if taking it easy made him feel better, I was more than willing to do it.

Besides, I have to admit it was nice being coddled in the beginning. In the immediate aftermath of my abduction—how crazy is it to be abducted twice? It’s like a Lifetime movie or something—I didn’t really want to be left alone.

That first night home, I actually had a mini panic attack when Enzo reluctantly left my side to take a shower. Even though I knew I was safe, my stubborn brain kept interpreting every tiny sound—the hum of the furnace kicking on, the phone buzzing with a text, ice cubes clunking in the freezer—as a sign that someone was trying to take me again.

I didn’t tell Enzo any of that, but I think he could tell. As soon as he came back into the living room, he took one look at my face and rushed over to me, pulling me into his arms and pressing small, desperate kisses to the top of my head. That’s when I realized the separation was just as hard for him as it was for me.

When he finally asked if I was okay, of course I said yes. What was he supposed to do, never take a shower? Never go into a room without me? And what about when he goes back to the store? Will and Ronan are covering for now, but eventually Enzo needs to get back to work. And with the danger gone, it would be odd if I tagged along with him every day when I could get so much more work done in the office at home.

Although I could work in his little office there. But that’s not really going to help me get back to normal life again. And that’s what I want. Normal. Me and Enzo, doing regular couple-y things like we started to before his cousin completely lost it.

I want to go to the Halloween Spooktacular and see all the kids in costumes traipsing up and down Main Street. I want to try Blissful Brews seasonal Halloween porter and go on a haunted hayride around town and then come home to show Enzo the sexy black and orange lingerie I ordered on a whim last week.

I want to volunteer at the community center, helping prepare Thanksgiving meals for families that can’t afford them.

And as much as I love being with Enzo, I want to do some things on my own. Like going to the library and joining one of their book clubs—I looked online and they have a monthly romance lovers one that seems fun. I’d like to visit a few of the local businesses with some samples of my work to see if they’re interested in hiring me. And Sage called me last night to ask if I might want to meet for coffee sometime.

“I don’t know many people in town,” she admitted, “other than the people I work with. I just thought it might be nice, since we’re both relatively new to Bliss. But if you think it would be weird or uncomfortable…”

I don’t think it would be. And I like Sage a lot. So I told her yes, and I’m determined to gather my courage and go into town to meet her next week.

Do I think it’ll be hard? Yes.

But that makes me more determined to prove I can.

I used to do things on my own without thinking twice, and I can do it again.

Although. I might ask Enzo to drive me there and pick me up when I’m done. I think that might help both of us feel better about it.

But before that, before I consider doing anything outside the house, I need to figure out what’s going on with Enzo.

The niggling worry that started two days ago—when I found Enzo staring out the kitchen window, frowning, lines of strain etched into his features—has only grown worse since then.

When he’s with me, he’s the same Enzo as usual. But whenever I catch a glimpse of him alone—in the kitchen, out in the yard, on the porch—he looks like a different person.

He looks upset. Stressed. His shoulders are tense and his jaw is tight. And there’s this dark, distant look in his eyes, like he’s lost in an unpleasant thought. But when I ask if he’s okay, he forces a quick smile and insists everything is just fine.

But his fine is like how I said I was after that shower a few days ago, which makes me think he’s not fine at all.

I’m worried. And I don’t want him to think he has to hide how he’s feeling from me. Yes, I went through a traumatic experience, and I understand how he might think he’s protecting me. But what his cousin did hurt Enzo, too.

And if we’re going to be real partners, Enzo needs to get used to sharing everything with me, even the feelings he used to keep to himself. That’s why I’m going to push him to talk, even if he doesn’t want to, and I really hope it doesn’t backfire on me.

We’re both in the living room, not talking, but enjoying a companionable silence. He’s working on putting together yet another bookcase—it’s going to be a veritable library in here soon, which I love—while I stare at the same page on my Kindle and try to figure how I’m going to start the conversation.

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