Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Natalie
M y duffel bag lands in the trunk with a hollow thud. Fitting, since that's exactly how my chest feels—hollow, empty, like the space between heartbeats. The cool air carries the scent of pine and spring flowers, making everything worse. Even the preserve seems to be saying goodbye.
"You're really leaving?" Maggie leans against the coffee shop's back door, concern written across her features. She'd insisted on helping me pack up my temporary office space at Novel Sips, though I suspect she's hoping I'll change my mind.
"The ankle's almost healed." I manage a weak smile. "Time to stop imposing on everyone's hospitality."
"Right. Because that's definitely why you’re heading out today."
Before I can argue that I'm not running, a familiar green ranger truck pulls into the lot. My heart does a complicated gymnastics routine as Ben steps out, something clutched in his hand.
Wildflowers. Mountain daisies and Indian paintbrush, wrapped in what looks suspiciously like a page from an incident report.
Maggie straightens, backing toward the door. "I’ll give you two a minute."
Ben approaches slowly, like I'm one of his wild creatures that might startle. The sun catches gold in his hair, and it's unfair how good he looks, all rumpled and earnest and holding flowers that would make any conservationist wince.
"These are illegal to pick," I say, because it's easier than addressing the way my pulse races.
"I know." His voice is rough. "Write me up."
"Ben—"
"I was wrong." He steps closer, close enough that I catch the scent of coffee and pine that I've come to associate with safety. With home. "About the article, about your intentions. About everything."
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold in the hope that wants to bloom. "You weren't entirely wrong. I do want to share this place with the world."
"I know." He offers the flowers like a peace offering, like a promise. "That's what makes you perfect for it. You see the preserve's soul, its wildness, and you want to protect that, not change it."
"Then why?—"
His free hand comes up to cup my cheek, and I can't help leaning into the touch. "I've spent so long guarding this place, I forgot that sometimes the best protection comes from letting people in. Letting them fall in love with it like I have."
Like I have. The words hang between us, heavy with meaning.
"The town council meets this afternoon," he continues. "I'd like to speak. To support your proposal."
My breath catches. "Ben?—"
"With conditions." His thumb traces my jaw. "We work together on the design. Keep it small, sustainable. Focus on education and preservation rather than tourism."
"That's what I wanted all along."
"I know. I should have listened." His eyes search mine. "I should have trusted that someone could love this place differently than I do, but just as deeply."
"And now?"
"Now I'm hoping it's not too late to prove I can learn. That I can trust." He glances at my half-packed car. "That I can give you a reason to stay."
"I don't need a reason." I reach up, touching his face, feeling the morning stubble under my fingers. "I just need you to let me in. To believe that not everyone leaves."
"Even if they have National Geographic on speed dial?"
The teasing note in his voice makes me laugh, even as tears threaten. "Especially then. Because some stories are worth staying for."
He pulls me closer, the wildflowers crushed between us. "I'm sorry," he whispers against my hair. "For not trusting you. For letting my fears?—"
I silence him with a kiss, rising on tiptoes to reach. He tastes like coffee and hope and possibility, his free hand tangling in my hair as the other still clutches those illegal wildflowers.
When we part, I rest my forehead against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "So," I murmur. "The town council?"
"Mmm." He drops a kiss on my crown. "Ready to show them how to love something wild without taming it?"
I think of the eagle, healing but still fierce, still true to her nature. Think of Ben, learning to trust without losing his protective spirit. Think of myself, finally finding home in a place wild enough to let me be exactly who I am.
"Yeah," I whisper, reaching for his hand. "I think we are."
"Wait." Ben tugs me back as I start to turn toward the coffee shop. The intensity in his eyes makes my breath catch. "That's not the only reason I want you to stay."
"No?"
"No." He sets the flowers aside, taking both my hands in his. "I love that you fight for what you believe in. Love how you see beauty in everything, how you tell stories that matter. Love watching you win over this whole town, one person at a time." His voice roughens. "But mostly, Natalie, I just love you."
The words settle in my chest like sunrise breaking over the ridge. "Even though I challenge everything you thought you knew about protecting this place?"
"Because you challenge everything. Because you make me see things differently." His hands tighten on mine. "Stay. Not for the preserve, or the visitor center, or even this town. Stay for us."
"Ben..." I reach up to touch his face, feeling the smile I can't contain. "I already found my next story. It's here, with you, with this place. I love you too."
This time when he kisses me, it feels like coming home. Like finding the perfect shot after waiting hours in the dawn light. Like everything wild and wonderful finally falling into place.
Behind us, someone whistles from the coffee shop door. But Ben just pulls me closer, both of us laughing against each other's lips, neither of us caring who sees.