Page 19 of Mountain Man's Naughty List
When the others drift into the kitchen for seconds, I find him by the window, staring at the snow.
The tree lights flicker over his face, softening the edges that used to look so hard.
“Big day tomorrow,” I say.
“Yeah.” His breath fogs the glass. Then, quietly, “I don’t know if I should go back.”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
He turns, shoulders tense. “I mean it, t’s been good here. Better than anything I could have expected. I’ve been thinking maybe I could stay awhile. There’s a youth league in Anchorage looking for a coach, and?—”
“Thatcher.” I step closer, heart hammering. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Talk like you’re going to throw away everything you worked for your whole life.”
He frowns. “I’m not throwing it away. I’m just—re-thinking priorities.”
“Your priority has always been hockey.”
He shrugs. “Maybe that’s the problem.”
The words land like a crack across ice. I should be touched—he’s saying I changed something in him—but all I can hear is the panic underneath.
If he stayed because of me, he’d hate me for it later.
And that breaks my heart more than the thought of this interlude of ours ending.
“I just think you’re overreacting,” I say. “You’ve been here a week. It’s Christmas brain talking.”
His eyes narrow. “Christmas brain?”
“You know—snow, cocoa, temporary insanity. It makes people say ridiculous things.”
“That’s what you think this is? Ridiculous?”
“I think it’s unrealistic,” I bite out. “Next week you’ll remember who you are and what you’ve spent your life building. You’ll regret saying any of this.”
He stares at me for a long moment, jaw tight. “Glad you have so much faith in me.”
“That’s not what I?—”
“Sure it is.” He snatches his coat from the peg. “Forget it, Liz.”
“Thatcher—”
But he’s already out the door, boots crunching in the snow. Grady shoots me a look, mutters, “I’ll go,” and follows him into the cold.
The silence that follows is deafening. Stevie slips back into the room, confusion creasing her brow. “What happened?”
I sink onto the couch, fingers twisting the edge of a blanket. “I think I messed up.”
“Tell me.”
“He said maybe he didn’t want to go back. That he could stay, find something here. And I—” I swallow hard. “I panicked. I told him it was crazy.”
Stevie’s smile spreads slowly. “You panicked because you care about him.”
