Page 17 of The Mountain Man's Mail Order Muse
I’ve been asking questions. Little ones. Harmless ones. But now I ask something that feels bigger, and it lands like a stone in the silence.
“How is it,” I say gently, “that a man like you is single? You’re almost too good to be true. I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
He’s quiet for a long moment.
Then he turns, finally meeting my eyes, and says, “I have actually been married before.”
The words hang there, heavy.
I sit up straighter. “Oh. I thought you said—I didn’t know.”
“No reason you would.” He swallows hard, his jaw tightening like it always does when he’s holding something back. “It was a long time ago. Years. Another life, really.”
“What happened?” I ask softly.
He leans back, his hand raking through his hair. His voice is quiet when he speaks. “Her name was Mara. We were highschool sweethearts. Thought we had the kind of love that would outlast anything.”
I don’t interrupt. I just listen. His tone is distant, but the pain is fresh. Real.
“She got pregnant. We were married, settling into life. I thought it was ours—our little family, starting. I was ready for it.”
He stops. Takes a breath. Shakes his head.
“But a week before the baby was due… I found out the kid wasn’t mine. It was my brother’s.”
My heart stumbles.
I don’t know what to say. My instinct is to touch him, to reach for his hand, but I wait.
“She told me she was in love with him,” he goes on, bitterness creeping in under the grief. “Said it wasn’t a mistake. Said she couldn’t pretend. I told her we could make it work—that if she promised to stay away from him, we could still raise the baby. I was willing to forgive her.”
He looks at me now, and the fire reflects in his eyes, but there’s no warmth.
“She didn’t want forgiveness. She wanted him.”
I cover his hand with mine. It’s strong and steady, but I can feel the ache there, too.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
He nods, eyes dropping to our hands. “It’s why I left the city. Why I live up here. Too many memories. Too many ghosts.”
“I get that,” I say, because I do. Maybe not the same kind of pain, but the shape of it feels familiar.
We’re quiet again. Somewhere in the cabin, my cat jumps onto a counter.
When he speaks again, his voice is softer. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel anything again. Until you walked in with that silly littlecat and those wide, beautiful eyes. You know he’s really growing on me.”
I laugh under my breath, but it catches in my throat.
I want to reach in and gather all those broken pieces. I want to press them together with everything I have and promise him that I’ll never be like her. That I’ll never leave him gutted, bleeding from the inside out.
I resolve, right here, that I will never be the reason he feels that kind of pain again. I could never do that to this man.
“Have you ever been married?” he asks me, his voice low, almost hesitant. Like he’s only just remembering that I’m still a mystery to him, too.
I shake my head. “No. Just a couple shitty boyfriends. If you could even call them that.”
His eyes hold mine, steady and curious. “What happened?”
