Page 28 of Saved By the Mountain Man

“I did what I had to do.”

Her eyes shimmered. I willed her not to cry. If she cried, it would ruin me. I wouldn’t be able to stand that I’d hurt her that much. But she blinked a few times and all evidence of her emotions was gone, hidden behind the mask she’d slipped back into place.

Fuck.

We both knew how to hide what we felt, but sometimes it was a curse.

“Well, you don’t have to worry. As soon as I can get out of here, I’ll leave you alone, and then you can get back todoing what you have to do.” Her last words were sarcastic and I bristled, but I couldn’t argue with her, fight her on it, because she had every right to be upset.

The only saving grace I had was that she couldn’t leave just yet, not with her ankle in that state.

The realization that Iwantedher to stay shocked through me like a jolt of electricity.

What the fuck, Tanner?

My heart was starting to win out over my head, and if that happened completely… I was in deep shit.

9

RAE

The days blended together in a mix of pain and rest as I recovered from my injury. The storm had left the forest a muddy, treacherous mess, making it impossible for me to get around on my own and there was no way I could get down that mountain and back to town.

A part of me wanted to be in my own cabin, away from everyone and everything.

A part of me was glad I was with Tanner.

I tried not to pull it apart too much, to define exactly why I felt that way. I wasn’t sure if I would be okay with the answers I found.

His cabin became my temporary sanctuary. With Tanner, the past was impossible to escape, and some days it felt like the walls were closing in… but then I saw glimpses of the man he was and the relationship we had, and it all opened up again, and I could breathe a sigh of relief.

It was like coming home, kicking off my heels, and stepping into comfortable slippers, worn and soft.

Despite the tension between us, Tanner surprised me with small acts of kindness. He brought me food that he put extra effort into cooking. He would often just take smoked meat for himself, but for me he made soup or stew.

“You need it to recover,” he would say.

He made sure I had enough blankets and stoked the fire to keep the cabin warm. His gruff exterior was always firmly in place, but sometimes, when he thought I wasn’t looking, he would be the man he used to be—the man I had fallen in love with.

One morning, I woke up to the smell of coffee. I sat up, wincing as my ankle throbbed. I could hobble on it now, put a bit of weight on it and support myself. Tanner didn’t have to help me around anymore.

When I crept out of the room, Tanner was in his small open-plan kitchen, his back to me as he poured a steaming mug. The cabin was small but cozy, the wooden walls adorned with simple decorations and shelves lined with books and tools. He’d made this place his home, and he was in every inch of it, seeping through the wooden walls, caught in the moss outside and the fur inside. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, bringing warmth.

“Morning,” I said, my voice still rough with sleep.

He stiffened before he turned, his expression unreadable.

“Morning. How’s the ankle?”

“Sore,” I admitted, shifting to make myself more comfortable. “But better.”

He came to me and held out his hand. I hesitated before I took it, and he led me—slowly—to the couch. When I sat down, he handed me the mug of coffee.

“Here. Drink this. It’ll help.”

“Thanks.” I took the mug and savored the warmth. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know.”

Tanner shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Just trying to make sure you’re okay.” He cleared his throat. “The sooner you’re better, the—”

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