Page 22 of Haunting the Mountain Man
I stroke his fur, but my hands shake.
Cole’s voice keeps replaying in my head, flat and final.
You don’t have to marry me.
Like it was mercy. Like I was doing him a favor he couldn’t stomach accepting.
I should be furious. A true witch would storm into the woods, set fire to his cabin, and leave him howling in the ashes. Instead, all I can do is sit here in the dark with my cats, aching like someone carved out my chest like a jack-o-lantern.
Noel’s pep talk replays in pieces.
He’s scared. He’s in over his head. Make him eat those words.
She’s right. But tonight, it doesn’t feel like fear. It feels like rejection. Like he saw me in that dress, saw all of me, and decided I wasn’t worth the gamble.
The worst part? For a flicker of a second, I agree with him.
I curl onto the couch, dress still hanging on the back of the bathroom door across the room. I should be dyeing it right now, coaxing it into the black silk-and-lace dream I pictured. Instead, I can’t even look at it.
The hours crawl by. I try reading, tea, and eventually I muster the courage to dye the dress to keep my hands busy, but nothing sticks. When I close my eyes, I see Cole’s face. The reverence when I stepped out in my gown, the hunger when I showed him the lingerie, the hollow finality when he told me I didn’t have to marry him.
I’m up with the sun, no more than an hour or two of sleep under my belt. My eyes are raw, my chest is tight, and the only thing I know for certain is if Cole doesn’t want me, I won’t beg him to marry me. Even if I can’t imagine marrying anyone else.
Cole
I don’t sleep. Not a damn minute.
Her words echo through my mind, and I nearly drive over to her apartment around midnight. Only the late hour, and the possibility of disturbing her sleep keep me rooted in my cabin.
She’s right to be angry. Hell, it would serve me right if she didn’t show up today. I thought I was doing the right thing, but good intentions don’t matter when you hurt the one you love.
By dawn I’m pacing the cabin like a caged bear, coffee gone cold in my hand. Anxiety and nerves keep me more alert than any amount of caffeine ever could. My home feels cold and lifeless after seeing her apartment. The cats are curled around her by now, keeping her company while I’m here tearing myself apart. She deserves better than this. Better than me.
Catching sight of myself in the mirror over the sink makes me wince at the pathetic man staring back at me. Gray at the temples, lines carved deep at the corners of my eyes, hands rough and scarred. The old fool the town whispers about. Butbeneath all that, my heart pounds steady, hard, strong. Every beat says her name.
I can’t undo what I said last night. But I can damn well show her what I meant when I bought that dress. She’s mine. I’ll stand beside her and dare all of Crescent Ridge to question my love for her.
Noel texted me after midnight. Only a handful of people have my number and I’m not sure how she got it, but I’m grateful she did.
Don’t you dare flake. She’ll be there.
I tried to call her, but she sent me straight to voicemail. If Sabrina forgives me, I doubt her friend will be half as kind. The Christmas Tree Farm girl seems like one to hold a grudge.
Not that it matters. I’ll be there.
Not because I think I’m enough for Sabrina, I’m not, but because she deserves a man who shows up.
So, I pull on a brand-new black button-down shirt, knot the red tie with clumsy hands that shake more than they should, and stare at my reflection one last time.
“Don’t fuck this up,” I mutter.
Then I grab my keys, and the small black box I bought the day after I saw Sabrina for the first time and head out the door.
Sabrina
The courthouse smells like old wood polish and leather. My dress swishes around my ankles as I pace the narrow hall, palms sweating even though it’s a cool fall day outside. Noel’s already slipped inside to speak with the clerk, which leaves me alone, until heavy footsteps sound behind me.
I don’t have to turn to know it’s him.
