Page 36 of Grumpy on the Mountain
"What can I do?" she asks, no trace of fear in her voice now, just determination.
Part of me wants to tell her to get back in the truck. The smart part. But I've never been too smart. Not when it comes to Molly.
"Hold the flashlight. I need to see what I'm doing when I hook up the winch."
She nods, taking the heavy-duty light and following me back to the stranded vehicle, her borrowed boots crunching in the snow.
What follows is thirty minutes of methodical work. We secure the winch cable to the SUV's rear axle, set up stabilizing jacks, Molly shining the light exactly where I need it the entire time.
To my surprise, she's a quick study, anticipating what I'll need next, handing me tools, thecorrecttools, without being asked.
"Need the winch controller," I say at one point, and she's already extending it toward me.
The family watches from inside the vehicle—parents in the front, two kids in the back, all wide-eyed and tense.
"So this is what mountain men do for fun on a Friday night?" Molly jokes as I adjust the tension on the winch.
"Usually I just chop wood and brood into my whiskey glass silently," I deadpan, surprising myself again.
Her laugh echoes across the ridge, and I notice how the tension in the stranded family's faces eases slightly at the sound.
Finally, after careful maneuvering and a few tense moments, the SUV is back on solid ground, chains attached to the tires for the journey down the mountain.
The family piles out, relief making them effusive in their gratitude. The father pumps my hand, the mother hugs Molly, and the children stare up at me with a mixture of fear and awe.
"You two saved our vacation!" the mother exclaims. "How can we ever thank you?"
"Just drive carefully on the way down," I say. "Follow the main road, no shortcuts."
The father nods vigorously. "Absolutely. Thank you both so much." He glances between Molly and me with a smile. "You two make a good team. Been together long?"
Molly starts to respond, "Oh, we're not—"
"Not long enough."
Molly's neck snaps to look at me and the family piles back into their vehicle, now safely equipped for the descent. With final waves, they're gone, taillights disappearing around the bend.
Leaving Molly and me alone on the ridge.
The full moon hangs above us, making everything silver in light. From this vantage point, the valley below spreads out like a dark blanket scattered with the tiny lights of Stone River Mountain.
"Not long enough, huh?" Molly finally says, turning to face me. "Staking your claim on me, Mr. Grumpy?"
There's teasing in her voice, but something else too. A question she's dancing around.
I take a step toward her, drawn by something I can't explain but don't want to resist anymore.
Then I hesitate, Riley's face flashing in my mind.
Molly reads my hesitation perfectly. Her eyes soften as she moves closer, close enough that I can feel her warmth.
"I know what you're thinking about," she says quietly. "He doesn't own me. Not anymore. He never did, but especially not now."
I swallow as she moves closer, her scent absolutely heavenly. "He's still my brother."
"And I'm still me," she counters, eyes dropping to my lips. "Not a possession to be handed off or fought over. This—" she gestures between us "—has nothing to do with him. It's just us. You and me."
"You and me," I repeat, testing how it feels.
