Page 23 of Haunting the Mountain Man
“Sabrina.” His voice is low, and rough.
I whirl around, heat rising in my chest.
“You’ve got nerve showing up after last night.”
He flinches but doesn’t back down.
“I deserve that.”
“You deserve worse.” My throat tightens, but the words spill out anyway. “Do you have any idea how much it hurt? You trying to talk me out of our marriage? Like I was some mistake you needed to undo before you came to your senses?”
His jaw works, clenching and relaxing as he tries to talk.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what the helldidyou mean?”
He steps closer, close enough that I can smell the mint from his toothpaste. His eyes stare into mine, unwavering.
“I meant that I’m terrified. I wake up every morning wondering how the hell I got lucky enough. Sometimes I see an old man in the mirror who doesn’t deserve the brightest, fiercest woman in this town.”
The words slam into me harder than last night’s doubts.
“So, you tried to push me away before I figured it out myself,” I whisper.
He nods once, shame written across his face.
“I was a fucking idiot, Sabrina.”
I swallow hard, blinking fast.
“Cole, I don’t need perfect. I don’t need young. I don’t need anyone to save me. I built this life with my own hands. What I want, what Ichoose, is you. Gray hairs, splinters, and all.”
His chest rises like he’s been holding his breath for hours.
“You’d still choose me? After last night?”
I step forward until our bellies touch. My voice shakes, but it’s steady where it matters.
“Every damn time.”
His hand comes up, cupping my cheek like I’m something fragile.
“Then hear me now, Sabrina Blackwell. You’re it for me. My last, my only, my always. There’s not a universe where I walk out of this building without you.”
Tears sting my eyes, but this time they’re warm and soft, not bitter, and sharp. I cover his hand with mine and whisper, “Then let’s make it official. I wore this dress hoping you would come.”
“I’d be here, even if Noel didn’t text me last night.”
“She didn’t!”
Cole’s laugh vibrates from deep within his chest, warming my soul and soothing the raw edges of my bruised heart.
The courthouse room we get married in is small, all wood paneling and dusty sunlight, with a seal of the state hanging crooked behind the judge’s bench. Not exactly the cathedral of romance but standing here with Cole’s hand wrapped tight around mine, it might as well be the grandest room in the world.
Noel slips in behind us, arms crossed, lips pressed in a thin line. She levels Cole with a glare sharp enough to cut lumber. He shifts his weight but doesn’t let go of my hand.
The judge clears his throat, flipping through the papers on his desk.
