Page 2 of My Fearless Mountain Man

It’s everything coming together, every letter, every thought that whipped through my mind as I tried to make sense of and put into words echoes through me. There’s onlyhim. Name or not, he’s imprinted on me in a way that I just can’t explain and I don’t need to. Because he’s right here, within my grasp, real.

A dream I never stopped hoping for… come true.

Chapter 2 - Calder

She’s here.

Not a dream. Not a memory. Real.

I don’t move. I barely breathe. I just watch her—light green eyes locked on mine, braid slipping over her shoulder like it’s always belonged there. She’s older now, but the moment I see her, I know. I’d recognize her anywhere.

She was barely more than a girl the last time I saw her—covered in ash, shaking in my arms, coughing like her lungs were giving up. And now… she’s standing tall, steady, with this quiet strength that hits me straight in the chest.

She’s beautiful. Soft where I’m hard, warm where I’ve gone cold. And somehow, she hasn’t lost that light. If anything, it’s brighter. And damn if I don’t feel every scar on my body heat up just looking at her.

My hands twitch. Part instinct, part memory. I want to reach out. Grip her waist. Anchor her to me just to be sure she won’t vanish.

The ash-covered girl I carried out of hell is here.

And without saying a word, she reminds me of everything I thought I’d buried—what it means to protect someone, and what it means to feel again.

It’s uncomfortable.

I don’t like feeling this vulnerable, this open, this... seen.

Isolation is better. It’s comfortable, it’s constant, and I don’t want that to change. I keep to myself because that’s what I know. It’s better to stay in control, to keep people at a distance, to keep them from getting close enough to see that my scars are more than skin deep.

When I’m in my fire gear as a volunteer, when I’m a ranger without a name, I know I’m in control. Control is what matters.

“You’re ... you,” she whispers.

Her voice is a melody I want to hear again and again which isn’t normal. I’m the kind of man who prefers to do rather than talk, but here she is.

I have to say something before she gets the wrong idea. “Do I know you?”

She takes a step forward. “You saved me six years ago. From a fire. I’m sure I’m not the only person you’ve helped… but…”

She chews the inside of her cheek, looking down, then slowly back up at me. A faint blush stains her cheeks, making her freckles even more obvious.

Fuck, why am I having this reaction to her? She’s just a person!I shuffle some of the papers on the desk. I just need an out.

“I know you might not remember me. It’s been a while and I’m sure you’re busy, but ... um ... Have you read my letters?”She whispers, holding up the one she’s brought in a pale blue envelope.

Yes, each and every one.

“I know it could be a lot. One letter is gratitude, but every year could be overwhelming. But ... if you have, I mean I didn’t expect a reply, but why haven’t you?” She asks, her head turning slightly to the side. “Answered me, I mean.”

The more attention she gives me, the more my body vibrates just from being in her presence.

She doesn’t ask anything else. Just looks at me. And I’ve got no idea what the hell to say.

I know her name from the letters. I’ve read every one—more than once. I kept trying to figure out why she kept writing. Why she remembered that day with anything other than fear. Why she sawmeas something good.

None of that’s easy to admit. Hell, it all sounds weak.

And I’m not a weak man.

Which means I need space. Distance. Some kind of out, even if every instinct in me wants to stay planted right here. Even if she’s standing there like a perfect spring day come to life—and somehow makes flowers and fresh air feel like something I could actually want.

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