Page 12 of Her Mountain Man Neighbor
“Your parents sound like shitty people, Grace,” I say gruffly. “They don’t deserve to be in contact with you.”
My bluntness doesn’t seem to offend her. Her olive-green eyes flicker up to mine, and she gives me a small smile. “Thank you. It’s been tough. I’m still kind of adjusting to the ‘real world’. My life in the Hamptons was so sheltered, and now I’m starting from scratch without a dime. But it’s the right thing to do. I can feel it.”
“I know all about starting from scratch,” I say, running a hand over my beard. “You’ll be okay. You’re tougher than you think. I can tell.”
Grace beams at me. “Thanks, Lucian. I’m trying to be.” There’s a pause before she says, “You said you know all about starting from scratch…have you done it, too?”
Something lurches inside me. It was a throwaway remark, but it revealed more than I meant it to. Now Grace’s pretty eyes are on me, waiting for an answer, and it feels like my tongue has turned to cotton wool.
“Yeah,” I grunt uneasily. “I did it once.”
“What happened?”
Her voice is tentative. Cautious. Like she’s expecting me to clam up and close myself off if she says the wrong thing. I feel like an asshole. I’ve made her feel this way. Made her feel like she can’t ask me questions. But what she’s asking about right now…fuck, I don’t know if I can talk about it. For twelve years, I’ve bottled it up. Kept it inside. Grace doesn’t deserve to have all that pent-up misery dumped on her right now.
“Sure you want to know?” I ask. “It’s not a pretty story.”
Grace’s eyes soften with sympathy. “I’m sure, Lucian. You can tell me anything.”
I lean back in my chair, thinking it over, trying to decide where to begin. She doesn’t hurry me. Rain fills the silence, along with the crackle of the fireplace and the last scrape of cutlery as Grace finishes her food. Every few seconds, her gaze flits back to me, and it hits me all over again how fast I’m falling for her. How fast I’ve started to trust her. I promised myself I’d keep my walls up, not wanting to taint her with my misery. But dammit, the warmth in her eyes, the way she waits for me to speak without pressing…all of it is chipping away at my resolve.
Fuck.
I suck in a shaky breath, my jaw clenched tight. Then, before I can change my mind, I begin to talk.
7
GRACE
I’m startingto think Lucian won’t answer me. I’m not surprised. He seems determined to keep his walls up, never telling me anything too personal about himself. Never making himself vulnerable. It stings more than it should, but I don’t push him. Talking about what happened with my parents was hard, and he didn’t rush me or force anything. If he really is about to open up to me, the least I can do is give him time.
“It happened twelve years ago,” he says eventually, meeting my gaze from across the table. “Back when I was still living in Alaska.” He falters, but continues when I give him an encouraging nod. “I owned a building company there with my twin brother, Dominic.”
I try to hide the jolt of surprise in my chest. Lucian seems like such a lone wolf—it’s hard to imagine him having a twin. But I don’t interrupt.
“We had an office in the small town we grew up in: Glacier Point. We were pretty successful. Mainly did contract work, but we also built our own cabins in the forest outside the town. It was kind of like Cherry Mountain, but colder…wilder.”
I listen raptly, a shiver of foreboding running through me. This story doesn’t have a happy ending. I can see the pain inLucian’s eyes all too clearly now, the heaviness that I always assumed was just grumpiness. He looks like a man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“There was a shortcut through the woods to Glacier Point. Would have made walking there from our cabins twice as fast. But the shortcut was cut off by the river—too wide to jump across. The section of river was on Dominic’s land, so we figured we’d just build a log bridge over it. Didn’t have much experience of building bridges—we mostly built cabins—but figured it shouldn’t be too difficult.”
He swallows hard before continuing.
“My brother was the ideas guy. He drew up the plans, did all the math. I did the actual building. Took me a couple of days. It was a pretty simple bridge, but I figured it would do the job.” I see his jaw tighten, something flaring in his eyes. “I was wrong…I fucked up.”
My heart sinks like a stone, but I don’t say a word. I barely even breathe. Lucian is talking fast now, like a dam has burst, his words spilling out in a deep, mumbled rush.
“There was a problem with the ground at one end. Looked solid. Felt solid. But it wasn’t. Underneath the topsoil, it was loose. Water was getting in when it rained, and I couldn’t see it. Meant the whole bridge was unstable—but I didn’t know that. Not at first. When I tested the bridge, it held. It seemed sturdy. But then it rained overnight.” He gestures vaguely upward, where rain is hammering the cabin roof. “Real heavy, just like this. Same time of year.”
I think I know where this is going. I can see it, like an avalanche coming toward me, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. All I can do is listen as Lucian continues his story.
“The next morning was dry and sunny, so Dominic suggested we take the shortcut over the bridge to Glacier Point. We were due to work on a house there. The river was still running fastafter the rainfall the night before, but I didn’t give it a second thought. I thought the bridge was safe. Until Dominic started walking across.” His voice is so low now that I can barely hear it. “It happened fast. So damn fast. He took a few steps and the whole thing tilted. It threw him straight into the river. He was a strong swimmer, but the current was stronger. I couldn’t get to him in time. They found his body the next day, about twenty miles downstream…”
I knew it was coming, but it doesn’t stop the wave of horror, and I instinctively bring my hand to my mouth. I can’t imagine how Lucian must have felt in that moment. The sheer panic. Then the grief. The guilt. In my mind’s eye, I remember how Lucian looked when he pulled me back from the river the day we met. The wild fear in his expression.
I reach across the table and grip his hand firmly. “I’m so sorry.” The words aren’t nearly enough, but they’re all I have.
“Thanks, Grace.” He squeezes my hand, his palm warm and calloused against mine. His shoulders seem to loosen slightly, like he just dropped a heavy backpack he was carrying all day, and he lets out a deep sigh before he continues. “It fucked me up for a long time. I sold the company right after it happened. Left Alaska and moved out here. Didn’t bring anything with me except Dominic’s cat.” He gestures to Midnight, who’s still curled up peacefully by the fire. “I bought this place. Started chopping wood and selling it. But I don’t build anything anymore. Don’t trust myself enough. Not after that.”
