Page 4 of The Mountain Man's Mail Order Surprise
The blunt assessment makes me wince. "It's not that simple."
"Isn't it?" He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "You're beautiful, intelligent, and clearly successful. You should be with someone who treats you like the goddamn treasure you are, not worrying about whatever asshole you’re leaving behind."
"You don't understand. Zack... he's not always like this. When things are good between us, they're really good. And he takes care of me, provides for me. I'd be lost without him."
"Bullshit." The word is quiet but absolute. "You'd be free without him."
"Free to what? Struggle to pay rent? Wonder where my next meal is coming from?"
"Free to breathe without permission. Free to laugh without checking to see if it's too loud. Free to talk to strangers in hotel bars without worrying about the consequences."
Each word hits hard because they're all true. Every single one.
"It's not that easy to just leave."
"I know." His voice gentles. "But tonight, you did leave. You're here, with me, making your own choices. That's a start."
"Is it?"
"Hell yes, it is." He moves to sit beside me on the bed, careful to maintain distance. "And tomorrow, you can choose again. And the day after that."
"What if I make the wrong choice?"
"Then you learn from it and choose differently next time. That's what strong women do."
Strong women. The phrase hits something deep inside me. When did I stop thinking of myself as strong? When did I become someone who needed saving instead of someone who could save herself?
"I used to be strong," I whisper.
"You still are. Being in a bad situation doesn't make you weak, Gia. Surviving it makes you fucking powerful."
The conviction in his voice breaks something loose inside me. Tears I've been holding back for months finally spill over, and I bury my face in my hands.
"Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry."
"You didn't. I just... no one's told me I was strong in a really long time."
"Then they're all blind idiots." The bed dips as he moves closer. "Can I hold you? Just hold you?"
I nod, not trusting my voice. His arms come around me carefully, like he's afraid I might break. But instead of feeling fragile, I feel safe. Protected. Cherished in a way I'd forgotten was possible.
"That's it," he murmurs against my hair. "Let it out. You're safe now."
And I do. I cry for the woman I used to be, for the dreams I gave up, for the life I've been living in quiet desperation. I cry until there's nothing left, and through it all, Rosco holds me like I'm something precious.
When the tears finally stop, I'm curled against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. "I'm sorry. You didn't sign up for this."
"Actually, I'm pretty sure I did." His hand strokes through my hair, soothing and gentle. "The moment I saw you sitting at that bar looking like you needed someone to give a damn about you."
"Why do you care? You don't even know me."
"Maybe not yet. But I know enough." He tilts my chin up so I'm looking at him. "I know you're brave enough to come to a conference alone when you're hurting. I know you're kind enough to worry about ruining a stranger's evening. I know you light up when you talk about your dreams."
"And I know you're beautiful enough to stop my heart."
The last words are whispered against my lips as he leans down to kiss me. It's soft at first, questioning, giving me every opportunity to pull away. Instead, I kiss him back, pouring months of loneliness and need into the connection.
He tastes like whiskey. When his tongue traces my lower lip, I open for him with a soft moan that seems to flip a switch inside him.
