Page 12 of Mountain Man's Winter Wonder
His question landed like a hand on my shoulder. The weight of it stole breath from my lungs.
No one had ever asked me that. Not really.
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Exhaled. The answer arrived with the clarity of sunshine through a clean window.
“I need to stay. With you. I need to wake up excited about my day instead of dreading it. I need to make things that bring me happiness, not just manage someone else’s dream.”
Buck smiled. “Then why don’t you?”
“Because it’s insane. We’ve known each other two days. People don’t uproot their lives for strangers.”
“Don’t they?”
He leaned forward, taking my free hand in his palms. His thumb found my skin and moved in little lazy circles—the same motion he’d used in the diner—and I forgot how to form coherent sentences.
“My grandfather told me once that when you know, you know,” he said. “From the moment I saw you with those snow globes, I knew you were going to change everything for me.”
My heart ramped up. “Buck…”
“I’m not asking you to marry me tomorrow,” he said, getting ahead of whatever fantasy I was sprinting toward. “I’m asking you not to walk away from something that could be incredible because you’re scared.”
“What if I’m not enough? What if I come back, and you realize I’m just a sheltered small-town girl who’s done nothing but work most of her life?”
His thumb kept circling. “What if you’re everything I’ve been looking for?”
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. “My parents will lose their minds. They’ll think I’ve been replaced by a mountain elf.”
“Have you?”
I let myself actually consider it. Had I lost my mind or found it? For the first time, the choice felt like mine instead of a script written by parental duty and habit.
“No,” I said. The word surprised me with its steadiness. “This feels…sane.”
“Then what are you afraid of?” His voice was a soft drill, gently unearthing the truth.
“Everything.” It was honest, ugly, and right. “Disappointing them. Failing. Not being brave enough.”
He stood up and framed my face in his hands. “You know what I see when I look at you? A woman who spent her whole life putting everyone else first and is finally ready to put herself first. I see someone who makes things people love. I see courage. So much courage.”
A laugh escaped me—the surprised kind that comes with admitting how ridiculous you’ve been. A tear slid from one eye.
“What if they disown me?”
“Then they don’t deserve you.” His voice sharpened. “Any parent who would disown a child for choosing happiness doesn’t get a seat in your future.”
“It’s not that simple,” I said, because of course life hated a neat answer.
“It is.” He kissed my forehead like a promise. “But I’m not asking you to cut them off. I’m asking you to go home, tell them the truth, and then come back to me. Whether it takes a week, a month, or six months, I’ll be here.”
Something steady and warm settled in my chest. Not an answer, but a foothold. This feeling of being seen and wanted and somehow safe was what I’d been chasing through every glittering little globe.
“I want to come back,” I said, softer.
“Then come back.”
“I want to open a little hot dog stand.”
He grinned like the sun snuck up behind him. “I’ll build it with you.”
