Page 21 of Stranded with the Mountain Man

I clean up and head inside, steeling myself for whatever awkwardness awaits.The cabin is quiet except for the soft sounds of Bear's snoring from his bed and the occasional clink of glassware from the kitchen.

Deena stands at the counter, her back to me, stirring something that smells like heaven.She's changed into jeans and a soft sweater, hair pulled back in a loose ponytail that exposes the curve of her neck.

"You cooked," I say, more statement than question.

She doesn't turn. "Mrs. Havers mentioned it was your favorite.Beef stew with dumplings."

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know." She finally faces me, expression carefully neutral."Consider it a peace offering.For invading your workshop this morning."

I move to the sink, washing up without responding.The domesticity of her cooking in my kitchen, the table set for two, Bear contentedly sleeping nearby is too dangerous.It's too easy to imagine this as permanent rather than the temporary arrangement it is.

"Mrs. Havers mentioned you're building her a rocking chair," Deena says when the silence stretches too long."She showed me pictures of some of your other work on her phone.The writing desk you made for the library.The display cases for the historical society."

I shrug. "Keeps me busy."

"It's more than that." She ladles stew into bowls, setting them on the table."It's art, Ross. Really impressive art."

The simple appreciation in her voice catches me off guard.Not many people see beyond the function of the pieces to the care that goes into them.

"It's just wood," I downplay, taking my seat.

"And plants are just plants." She raises an eyebrow."Until they're medicine, or food, or the cornerstone of an entire ecosystem.It's not 'just' anything when you pour yourself into it."

I take a bite of stew to avoid responding.It's good, too good, exactly the way my mother used to make it, which means Mrs. Havers gave her the recipe too.The old matchmaker is more transparent than she thinks.

"About this morning," Deena starts cautiously."You're right. I did make my choice twelve years ago.And I won't pretend I regret the career I've built."

Something in my chest tightens."But?"

"But I've spent twelve years wondering what I gave up to get it." She meets my eyes directly."Whether the trade-off was worth it."

"And now?" I can't help asking, though I'm not sure I want the answer.

"Now I'm wondering if it has to be one or the other." She sets down her spoon, focusing entirely on me."What if there's a way to have both?What if I can have my career and..."

"And what?" My voice is rougher than intended.

"And you." The simple declaration hangs between us, bold and fragile all at once."If you wanted that. If you want me."

The question doesn't have a simple answer.Want her? Of course, I want her.I never stopped. But wanting and having are different beasts entirely.

"Atlanta is four hours away," I point out."Even if you rebuild here, your lab, your life is there."

"Remote work exists. Grant-funded field research.Academic sabbaticals." She counts off on her fingers."I'm not saying it would be easy, but--" She stops, frustration crossing her features."Never mind. It was a stupid idea."

"No." The word escapes before I can stop it."It's not stupid. It's just..."

"Complicated," she finishes for me, a sad smile playing at her lips."I know. Everything worth having usually is."

The echo of Mrs. Havers' similar sentiment isn't lost on me.Something shifts in my chest--not resolution, exactly, but possibility.A door cracking open where I'd thought it permanently sealed.

"I don't want to be something you resent," I admit finally."When the novelty wears off and you're stuck commuting or compromising your research."

"And I don't want to be something you're afraid to want because you're convinced I'll leave again." She reaches across the table, not quite touching me but close."We're both scared, Ross. But at least I'm willing to admit it."

The challenge in her eyes isfamiliar.It's the same look she'd give me when daring me to climb higher, swim farther, dreambigger.Always pushing me beyond what I thoughtpossible.

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