Page 19 of Taught By the Mountain Man

She turns to me, eyes soft but vulnerable. “Home?” The word is a question. “With you?”

If my heart was humming a moment ago, now it’s soaring. “Absolutely,” I say in a voice gravelly with emotion, and head for my little house in among the evergreens.

I park in front of my place and look over at her, my hand still on the gearshift. “Are you sure?” I ask, needing to be sure — needingherto be sure — even though everything in me wants her to come inside with me. Something about her presence feels like it belongs here, with me.

She turns to me, her eyes searching my face, and then she says, “I’m sure. I want to come inside with you.”

I don’t know why the words hit me differently. It’s a simple thing, just her wanting come into my home, but it feels…important. Like it’s a step, something real.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice rough once more. “Of course you can. Always.”

We get out of the truck and head inside. As we walk through the door, Sugar darts from behind the couch like a shooting star, her eyes wide and suspicious. She’s always a little on edge with strangers, but something about the way she pauses, tilting her head as Star stops in her tracks, tells me she’s not going to be her usual standoffish self tonight.

“She’s a little skittish,” I explain, giving Star a sheepish smile. “Don’t take it personally.”

Star looks down at Sugar, crouching low and holding out her hand. Sugar sniffs it, giving a low, uncertain meow, but then she steps closer, rubbing her cheek against Star’s palm. I watch, almost stunned. Sugar usually doesn’t do that. She doesn’t trust easily, especially not right away.

“Looks like she’s taken a liking to you,” I say, still surprised. I didn’t expect her to warm up to Star so quickly.

“I guess so.” Star laughs softly, petting her gently. “That’s kind of going around, isn’t?”

After a few more moments of watching them, heart too big for my chest, I take a step back and gesture toward the living room. “Make yourself at home. I’ll grab us something to drink.”

I go into the kitchen and put together a couple of mugs, the sound of the cabinet doors and the hum of the kettle grounding me. I don’t know what it is about Star being here. With her, there’s this quiet energy in the air, a pull I can’t ignore. I’m not sure where this is going, but for the first time in a while, I don’t feel the need to second-guess it.

When I return, I find her sitting on the couch, her eyes scanning the room like she’s taking it all in. The place is simple, nothing fancy, but it’s mine. It feels like me. I hand her a mug, and she wraps her hands around it, her fingers visibly relaxing against the warmth.

“I love this place,” she says quietly, her eyes lingering on the walls, on the bookshelves, on the little things that make this house feel like a home. “It feels likeyou.”

The words land in a way I didn’t expect. I feel this strange swell of something — pride, perhaps, or maybe something deeper. “I’m glad you think so,” I reply, my voice a little rougher than I meant it to be.

She finishes her drink, and then, without a word, she stands and walks down the hallway toward my bedroom.

I follow her, almost instinctively, just to make sure she’s comfortable, I guess. I’ve never been one to have someone in my space this much, but with Star, it feels different.

When I reach the door to my room, she’s already on my bed, stretched out beneath the blankets, her body curling into the softness of it like she belongs there. She lets out a contented sigh, her eyes half-lidded as she looks up at me.

“This is so cozy,” she says, her voice sleepy. “I’m so tired, but it’s the best kind of tired. Like I could just stay here forever.”

I stand in the doorway, watching her, the weight of her words sinking in. There’s no rush, no urgency. Just her, here, now. And somehow, it feels right.

“You can,” I say, my voice softer than usual. “If you want to stay. Stay forever, if you want.”

She looks up at me, and for a moment, I don’t think she’s going to answer. But then she smiles, the kind of smile that sends a flutter through my chest, and her eyes flutter shut.

“Okay.”

And just like that, she’s asleep, her breathing steady and peaceful, a soft smile still playing on her lips.

I stand there for a moment, just watching her, the warmth of the room and the steady rise and fall of her chest grounding me in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. Everything about this feels new, like it’s a beginning I can’t quite name but can’t ignore either.

Her words and mine felt like a promise to each other. While I can’t be sure about hers, I damn sure intend to keep mine.

She really can stay as long as she wants.

Even if that’s forever.

Especiallyif that’s forever.

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