Page 19 of Grumped By the Mountain Man

“Because I’ve seen this exact love story play out before, butterfly. We’re too different. The lives we want are different.”

“I don’t think they are. I think you just assumed that they are.”

To my surprise, he nods slowly in agreement.

“Look, I did want to leave Covet County to explore. I did want to photograph tons of different landscapes, cities, and events and I did. For three years. I accomplished a lot, and it was spectacular and I’d never regret the experience because it’s what improved my craft. It was invaluable. But you know what I quickly realized in the process?”

“What?”

“It’s not me, either. When it’s just me and the muse, sure, I feel like myself. But at all those award shows and parties and city events, it’s not me at all. I was always desperate to get home. I never got used to the sounds, the smells, heck even the people. It’s a different world I got to witness through a lens and I was less than impressed. That’s not to say I never want to travel again on short trips, but nature photography and family events are where my heart is because it means something to me, and Covet County has a lot of both.”

He hesitates. “What if you get restless? What if this is what you think you want but then adventure calls again? I want you to be happy and if that means two years from now you need to move to Alaska, or Prague or wherever your muse takes you then that’s where I want you to be.”

I sigh in frustration. “Why don’t you ask me where I want to be?”

“Because wishful thinking never did anyone any good. My mom, she wanted to party and dance and go to galas and events. It made her blossom. Being here, with her family made her wilt. I’ll never forgive her for cutting us off cold turkey and I’ll never forgive her for blaming us for her own poor decisions, but I do understand that she needed those things to feel alive. I just wished she confessed or understood that herself before she pretended the small-town life was enough for her.”

So that’s what this is. He’s comparing me to Sherry. His mother he refused to speak about. But he’s speaking now, and finally, I understand his reservations.

“I won’t deprive you of what you need to flourish. This is what I need. Silence, the forest, my cabin, some tools. It’s my haven.”

“A haven or a prison?” He looks at me in surprise. “Jaxon, you constantly create wooden toys for non-existent children. You built a porch swing perfect for a family of seven. You have a pantry that can hold food all winter for a family of twelve.”

“I just like building things,” he says defensively.

“I think your subconscious is being heard through your building. I don’t think it’s because you need something to do. It’s what your heart wants.”

“You sound exactly like Cali, telling me what my heart wants.”

“Then I’ll tell you what my heart wants. Mine wants to take photos of family moments that matter. Weddings, birthdays, baby showers, pet parties. All of it. Including ones of my own family. My family that I want to raise here in the mountains. This isn’t some whim or temporary fancy. I know what it takes to survive here, and I’m tough.”

“I know that you are.”

“Do you also know that I’m not your mother? I’m not going to speak on her because I don’t know her and based on the trauma she’s caused you, I don’t want to know her. But I can speak for myself. Yes, things happen. People grow, and people change. But one thing I won’t change is my commitment to my husband and my children. You do right by me and I’m always going to do right by you. The only way I’m leaving my babies is if I’ve left this earth entirely and I pray that’s not until I’m old, watching my great-grands run circles around me. Hopefully on that porch right there.”

He follows my pointed finger through the window where the porch is half covered in hail.

“Jax. Don’t throw me away before you’ve ever even given me a chance. If you don’t take chances, you won’t get rewards. Living here all alone because you’re terrified of letting someone in seems like an equally horrible punishment as someone walking out. And I’m never walking out. So please, let me in.”

I can see from his expression that he’s still on the fence.

“If I let you in, I won’t want to let you go.”

“So don’t let me go.”

He rubs his eyes and sighs. “You’re young. I can’t ask for that sort of commitment from you.”

The age gap thing. I know it secretly bothers him that I’m the same age as his little sister.

“You think I don’t know what commitment is? How serious it is and what it takes? I’m twenty-three and still a virgin. I saved myself for you not even knowing if you’d want me after all this time. After all the coldness. But I was determined to try. You don’t think saving that in college of all places is a massive commitment?”

“Ayla...”

“I know you never asked that of me but it was important to me. I wanted you. I still want you, just you. I want this, all of it.” I say, grabbing onto the front of his shirt and tugging it so that he’ll look at me. “But if you don’t want me. If this is your final word, tell me now. I’m not leaving the mountains but I will leave you alone.”

Silence drifts between us and I reluctantly let go of him.

“Someone else will take what you won’t,” I whisper but I barely get the words out.

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