Page 16 of My Fearless Mountain Man

And that’s what I need to do. What Iwilldo.

Starting now.

***

It’s my day off. I picked up a shift yesterday just to avoid any and every temptation to seek Nora out. It’s been three days since I kissed her.

Three days since I ordered her to leave and ignored the confusion and hurt on her face. Three days since I stood in the chilly rain just to get my dick and mind under control. I got angry with myself, got twice as pissed at her, and then the idea of her going out and kissing someone else wormed under my skin until I nearly went to the Airbnb I know she’s renting.

With such a small town, everyone talks and I didn’t have to ask to learn she’s staying at the cabin just outside of town in the woods. I haven’t gone.

Iwon’tgo.

Because I can’t keep her.

I won’t ruin her, get her hopes up, then show her every terrible, scarred, sharp part of me. Even if she accepted all that, I’d erode all her softness. I woulddestroyeverything that makes her ... her. Like an earthquake shaking loose everything in a city and flattening skyscrapers. She’d be a hastily restacked pile of memories and personality traits that wouldn’t fit anymore.

I can’t do that to her. I can’t do it to anyone and accept that weight on my shoulders.

There’s enough piled on my back already.

I stick to it for a while but then the silence starts to bother me.

What if she got lost on one of the trails? Wandered too far off into some back holler and ran into trouble?

Worse, what if she left? No warning. No note. No last look or promise of another letter.

For reasons I don’t have the energy—or the courage—to fully question, those thoughts feel unbearable. Maybe it’s the insomnia. Maybe it’s just her.

But not knowing if she’s okay, not knowing if she’shere... it’s getting under my skin. Twisting in my gut until I’m more restless than I’ve been in years.

And maybe a little less sane than I care to admit.

All I need to do is see her. See her car, see her cooking or lounging inside the cabin and I’ll go. She doesn’t have to see me at all. I just need to know she is safe.

I pull into her driveway slow and quiet, parking far enough back that she won’t spot me from the porch. I get out of the truck, cursing myself the whole time. What the hell am I even doing?

I creep closer—half-hoping she’s not home, half-hoping she is. Just as I’m about to turn around and quit being a damn stalker, I catch a glimpse of her.

She’s sitting on the porch, arms wrapped around herself, her body still except for the slow sway of the rocking chair. Her hair is down, the breeze tugging it gently across her shoulders. Ican’t see her face from this angle, but her posture says enough—tense, guarded, like she’s carrying something heavy.

I exhale and move closer, boots crunching on the gravel. That’s when she hears me.

Her head jerks slightly. She turns, and when her eyes meet mine, they widen in surprise. Color rushes into her cheeks, but she doesn’t rise. Her hands grip the arms of the chair, holding herself in place.

I step onto the porch and clear my throat.

“You look like something’s weighing on you.”

She nods once, slowly.

I hesitate. “Should I assume what’s on your mind or—”

“You already know,” she cuts in, standing abruptly. The motion surprises even her, and she catches herself before sinking back into the chair. She looks down, flustered but not retreating. “I’m trying to be reasonable, but I can’t pretend the kiss didn’t happen. Maybe you can, but I can’t. You kissed me... and then you walked away.”

Her honesty catches me off guard. My mouth opens before I’ve thought anything through. “It’s not about you. It’s just—” I sigh. “I don’twantto want you, Nora. We don’t even really know each other. And yet... you keep showing up in my head.”

She crosses her arms. “So me being here is the issue?”

---