Page 26 of Pretending with the Mountain Man
I consider this. "Military training helps with that. You learn to work with changing conditions rather than fighting against them."
"Tell me about your time in the service," she requests, settling more comfortably in her chair. "You never talk about it."
I hesitate, then decide to share a part of myself I rarely discuss. "Well, you know I was in the Special Forces. Did twelve years. Three deployments. Not all of it is classified, but enough that I don't discuss details often."
"Is that where the scars come from?" she asks softly, her fingers ghosting over a particularly vivid one on my forearm.
"Most of them." I don't pull away from her touch. "IED on my second tour. Lost two men from my unit that day."
Her hand covers mine. "I'm sorry."
"Long time ago." I turn my hand to lace our fingers together. "What about you? Any scars I should know about?"
"Nothing so dramatic." She smiles wryly. "Though I do have a scar on my knee from falling out of a tree when I was ten. I was trying to rescue a cat."
"Did you save it?"
"The cat was fine. Just didn't want to be rescued." She laughs. "I had to get twelve stitches and still have a scar shaped like Florida."
"I'd like to see that sometime," I say, enjoying the way her eyes crinkle when she laughs.
"Play your cards right, and you can see all of me." She winks, then grows more serious. "Thank you for sharing about your military service. I know that's not easy."
I shrug, uncomfortable with gratitude for simple honesty. "It's part of who I am. If we're doing this, you should know all of me. Even the difficult parts."
"I want to." She squeezes my hand. "All of you, difficult parts included."
The sincerity in her voice warms my heart. How long has it been since someone wanted to know me, not just the carefully constructed persona I present to the world?
"Come here," I say, tugging her onto my lap. She comes willingly, settling against my chest. I breathe in the scent of her hair, allowing myself this moment of contentment.
"What now?" she asks, her head resting on my shoulder.
"Now we have the rest of the day to ourselves." I press a kiss to her temple. "What would you like to do?"
She considers this. "I'd like to just be with you. Nothing fancy. Maybe take a walk in the woods if the rain stops? Read books by the fire? Cook dinner together?"
"Sounds perfect." I tighten my arms around her, marveling at how simple her desires are. No games, no complications, just genuine connection.
The rain has indeed stopped, sunlight now filtering through the thinning clouds. We spend the afternoon exactly as she suggested, walking the forest trails around the cabin, hand in hand, talking about everything and nothing. Our footsteps crunch through fallen leaves in shades of amber and rust. I show her the wild raspberry bushes where I gather fruit each summer, the creek that runs ice-cold even in August, the rocky outcropping with a view of the valley below.
Back at the cabin, we build a fire and settle on the couch with books, her legs draped across my lap as we read in comfortable silence. Later, we cook dinner together, moving around the kitchen with an ease that belies how new this relationship is.
It's the most peaceful day I've had in years. Maybe decades.
As evening falls, we sit on the porch watching the sunset paint the mountains in shades of gold and pink. Melody leans against me, my arm around her shoulders.
"I could get used to this," she says softly.
"Me too." The admission comes easier than I expected.
"But school starts next week," she continues. "And people will talk. I’ll need to..."
I press a finger to her lips. "One day at a time, remember? We'll figure it all out."
She kisses my finger before gently moving it away. "Promise?"
"Promise." I turn her face to mine, kissing her slowly, savoring the sweetness of her mouth and the warmth of her body against mine.
