Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
BEAU
T he cabin is barely visible from the road, blanketed in thick snow and shrouded by the mist swirling off the pines. We’re nearly on top of it before I make out its outline, squat and dark against the forest. Beside me, our rescuer parks with a decisive motion, his voice cutting through the white noise of the wind.
“We’re here.”
I nod, breathing in the last bit of warm air before he opens his door, allowing a blast of icy wind to knife through the truck. Jessamy shivers beside me, hugging herself, her freckled face pale, strands of red hair brushing her cheeks. She glances over, green eyes meeting mine with an uncertainty I share. We don’t know this man, only that he appeared like a ghost when we needed help the most.
“There’s no getting up the mountain in this storm,” he told us, hitching our car to his truck with smooth, practiced motions. “I’ve got a place nearby. You’ll shelter there until it passes.”
There’d been no room for discussion in his tone. He stated it as fact, not a suggestion. I didn’t like that much, but I wasn’t about to argue. Not with Jessamy’s safety on the line.
“Let’s go,” I say now, steeling myself as she reaches for the door.
Before she touches the handle, the stranger is there, pulling it open. He offers her his hand, and Jessamy doesn’t hesitate, her small, pale fingers dwarfed by his glove. I follow them down, stumbling through the snow as we hustle toward the cabin, huddling together on the porch as the stranger passes us to unlock the door.
“Go on in,” he says over the howl. “Get warmed up.”
Stepping inside, I feel the heat, the dry warmth prickling my cheeks and nose. I flex my fingers, coaxing the feeling back into them. Jessamy does the same beside me, her arms tight around herself as she takes in the space.
It’s a modest cabin. The comforting scent of cedarwood hangs in the air. A stone fireplace crackles from the corner across the room. On the right, a quaint kitchenette with old appliances. The only exception is a slow cooker on the counter, newer but well-used, exuding something savory and spiced. Just off the kitchen is a staircase that leads up to a shadowy loft that overlooks the entire cabin.
I nudge Jessamy toward the fire, helping her shrug out of her coat first. She crouches close to the orange glow and thrusts her hands toward the flames. With her safe, I let my gaze drift over the room. Wood-paneled walls, shelves packed with well-worn books, and a single reclining chair by the hearth. No photos. No color other than the books’ spines and an old blue fleece blanket draped on his chair. There’s no couch, no extra seating. Just one spot for the man who lives here, solitary as the cabin itself.
The front door opens again, and the stranger steps inside, our bags slung over his shoulder. He sets them by the door, shakes the snow off, then shrugs off his coat, revealing thick, muscled arms under a worn brown sweater. With each layer he sheds, I take in more of him. His black hair curls around the collar, a heavy beard framing his face. Sharp, dark eyes look back that seem to take the whole room in at once. He’s taller than me, broader, showing a quiet confidence and strength that makes me feel suddenly aware of my heartbeat. A flicker of something warm and unwelcome tugs at me. I tamp it down.
I give Jessamy’s shoulder a brief squeeze before stepping forward. “Thanks,” I say to him, keeping a few feet between us. “You really saved our asses out there.”
He nods. “It’s no problem,” he says, his voice low and rumbling as he peeks at Jessamy by the fire. “You two all right?”
“A little shaken, but fine.”
His sharp gaze seems to pierce through me, an intensity that makes me blink. “Quite the adventure,” he murmurs.
“Yeah.” I extend a hand. “I’m Beau. And she’s Jessamy, my wife.”
He looks down at my hand for a moment. When he clasps it, his grip is firm. Comforting. Tight. “Malcolm,” he says.
“It’s nice to meet you, Malcolm,” I reply, resisting the urge to shake out my hand as he releases it. “Thank you again for your help. We’re lucky you saw us when you did.”
He nods. “Not the first time I’ve had to pull someone out of a mess up here,” he says with a hint of a smile behind his beard, his brown eyes glinting with something between amusement and curiosity. “You two not from around here?”
“No.”
“Thought not.” Malcolm chuckles. “Only tourists see a forecast like this one and think they’ll just plow on through it.”
I glance at Jessamy. As I do, she averts her attention, pretending to focus on the fire, her hair catching the light in a soft, reddish halo. “Guess we didn’t think it’d be this bad,” I say, letting it go. Just like always.
“Well, make yourselves at home.” He gestures at the slow cooker on the kitchen countertop. “There’s some beef stew if you’re hungry, drinks in the fridge, and plenty of extra pillows and blankets in the chest upstairs. Should keep you warm through the night.”
I force a polite smile. “Oh, no. We won’t intrude that long.”
His voice takes on a gruff insistence. “This storm is here to stay, and so are you, friend.”
“We’ll call a tow truck or something,” I argue. “You’ve done enough for us already.”
“You’ll be lucky to even get a signal, and no truck’s coming to haul you, either. Now, I can get you back on the road myself, but…”
I nod, sensing the end of that sentence. “Not tonight.”
He pauses, letting his words settle like the snow piling up outside. “You’re safe here.”
There’s no reason to doubt him, no hint of anything to question, and yet, a lingering sense of vulnerability tightens in my chest. “All right,” I murmur, barely audible over the unrelenting winds outside.
Malcolm’s eyes shift behind me, and a moment later, Jessamy appears by my side, brushing against my shoulder.
“Hello,” she says with an amiable smile. “Malcolm, right?”
He dips his head to her. “Yes.”
“I’m Jessamy.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Jessamy.”
Her fingers disappear into his large, calloused hand, his grip far gentler this time. I sense a subtle shift in his gaze as he takes her in—just as aware of her as I am. A prickle of tension slides through me, and I rest my arm protectively around her shoulders.
“I heard there was stew?” she asks.
Malcolm nods, his intense gaze on us both now, as if he’s sizing us up. For what, I’m not sure. But for now, with the fire crackling in the background and the bitter cold kept at bay, we’ll have to make do.
“Come on,” he says. “There’s plenty to go around.”
The fire crackles between us, its warmth sinking into my skin but unable to untangle the knot forming in my chest.
Malcolm, seated in a worn recliner to our side, sips his coffee with calm eyes that contrast with the storm raging beyond the cabin walls.
“I was on my way home,” he explains, dipping a slice of bread into his bowl of stew. “Saw you two struggling up the mountain road and figured I’d follow along. Make sure you got where you were going.”
Jessamy, curled close to the fire with her knees drawn up, murmurs, “Thank god you were there.” Her hands cup her bowl, knuckles white from the lingering cold. She dips her bread in the thick broth. “I thought for sure we were going over.”
Malcolm gives me a slight nod. “Almost happened to me a time or two on these roads. They’re no joke.”
My stomach twists with heavy regret. The steep cliff edges flash in my mind—one wrong move, and we would’ve been over. If I’d thought ahead, if I’d rented a truck better suited for rugged terrain, if I’d checked the damn forecast myself. I’m no mountain man. I’ve been a city boy all my life, and tonight, it showed.
“So, where were you two heading?” Malcolm asks, his spoon halfway to his mouth.
Before I can deflect, Jessamy pipes up. “The Harmony Center,” she says.
Malcolm raises a brow, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Really?”
“For a weekend couple’s retreat,” she adds. “We are?—”
“Jess.” I cut in, forcing my tone to stay calm.
She glances at me. “What?”
I wipe my mouth with a napkin, fighting the urge to tense up. “There’s no need to get into the details.”
She scoffs, shaking her head. “I’m just answering his question, Beau.”
“It’s private. No offense meant, of course,” I nod toward Malcolm.
“None taken,” he says.
“I wasn’t going to say anything personal,” Jessamy says.
“Jess, please,” I say, urging her to let it go.
“What is your problem?”
My grip tightens around my bowl as the snowfall beats against the windows.
In the quiet, Malcolm chuckles under his breath. “I get it now,” he mutters. “Why you’re heading to The Harmony Center.”
A slow heat climbs my neck.
“You know about it?” Jessamy asks.
“Oh, sure,” he says.
She leans forward, eyes bright with curiosity. “Have you been there?”
“I’ve heard of it.”
“What have you heard about it?”
Malcolm shrugs. “For some folks, it’s helpful. A bit woo-woo, maybe, but...”
“Woo-woo?” I ask, arching a brow.
“A few Kumbayas and some trust falls in the mountains ain’t gonna do much to save a marriage,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “Right.”
“This is Kiss County, though,” Jessamy says, clinging to hope. “People fall in love here, don’t they?”
“That’s what they say,” Malcolm mutters.
“But it’s not true,” I add, assuming the tall tales one hears about this place are exactly that. Myths and fairy tales.
Kiss County. A magical land known for love at first sight. For spontaneous elopements and happily ever afters.
For second chances.
For falling in love again.
Malcolm gives a one-shoulder shrug. “Depends on who you ask.”
Jessamy stares at him, then asks, “Do you think it’s true?”
For a beat, he studies her, then nods. “Sure. People fall in love here.”
Empty words. Like he’s just humoring her.
Jessamy looks down, the smallest flicker of disappointment crossing her face.
Malcolm sets his empty bowl aside and leans back, crossing his arms. “So, you two are looking to fall in love again, huh?”
“We are in love,” I reply, sharper than I intend.
Jessamy remains still beside me.
“How long you been married?” he asks, unbothered by my tone.
“Five years,” Jessamy says when I don’t. “Been together for eight.”
“Jess,” I murmur, my voice tight.
She huffs, a defensive set to her shoulders. “We’re going to spend three days talking about this with strangers anyway, Beau. Might as well get used to it now.”
“He doesn’t want to hear about our issues.”
“He asked!”
“He’s just being polite.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t mind.”
“Yes, he does.”
She turns to Malcolm. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Malcolm watches the exchange with a quiet curiosity. “Nope,” he says, a trace of humor in his eyes. “I don’t mind.”
Jessamy turns up her hand. “See?”
I sigh, sinking deeper into frustration.
Malcolm’s voice cuts in again, calm and unassuming. “Five years ain’t that long,” he says. “Still fresh and new.”
Jessamy’s mouth quirks. “They say the first years are the hardest part. Don’t they?”
Malcolm shrugs. “Could be. Got kids?”
“No,” she answers. “Not yet.”
“Pets?”
“No.”
“Crippling debt?”
I clench my jaw as she says, “Beau’s family is wealthy, so... no.”
A silence settles over us.
Malcolm’s voice is steady as he continues. “Guess it should be smooth sailing for you two, then. Unless...”
“Unless?” Jessamy leans forward.
Malcolm looks at me directly. “Unless the family wealth comes with some strings.”
“Stop,” I say quietly, the warning unmistakable.
“Beau,” Jessamy says beside me.
“Enough.” I take a breath, forcing myself to keep calm. “I appreciate your help tonight, Malcolm, truly, but we’re not discussing this further. It’s private.”
“I’m sorry, Malcolm.” Jessamy’s words cut through the moment, edged and cool. “My husband isn’t normally this rude.”
“It’s all right,” Malcolm replies, giving me a small nod. “He’s right. It’s none of my business.”
After dinner, Jessamy and I clean up while Malcolm heads upstairs, promptly returning with blankets and pillows.
“No guest room here, unfortunately,” he says. “I’m willing to give up the bed if you’d prefer, but it can get chilly up in the loft overnight. You’ll be far more comfortable down here by the fire, I think.”
“That’s fine,” I say, taking the blankets as Jessamy keeps her back to us, drying the sink with single-minded focus.
Malcolm peeks at her before stepping back. “All right, then,” he says, the faintest shadow of a smile on his lips. “Help yourselves to whatever you want. Holler at me if you need help finding something.”
“Thank you, Malcolm,” Jessamy says over her shoulder. “You’re very kind.”
He smiles. “You’re welcome.”
Bowing his head in goodbye, he steps back, heading up the stairs and out of sight.
I sigh, trying to release the tension that has wound itself tight in my gut. “Not much privacy here,” I mutter as the faint sounds of his movements echo from the loft. “But we’re safe for the night, at least.”
Jessamy finishes at the sink, silent and distant.
“Jess?” I reach out to touch her shoulder, but she pulls away, moving toward her bag by the door. “Jess.”
“I’m fine,” she says.
My voice drops to a whisper. “I’m sorry about before. You know I’m not comfortable talking about our business with strangers.”
She ignores me as she picks up her bag.
“Are you listening to me?” I ask.
“I heard you.”
“There’s a time and a place for these conversations,” I say. “That’s all.”
Jessamy stays quiet, her hands shaking as she rummages through her things.
“Jessamy?” I move toward her. “Are you okay?”
“You didn’t say it back.”
“What?”
“I said I love you...” She hesitates. “You didn’t say it back.”
The words land heavy, unexpected.
“Who doesn’t say that back?” she asks, her voice trembling.
“I was panicking, Jess. The car—” I stop myself, my words and explanation sounding hollow already.
Tears line her eyes, her mouth a taut line. “Beau, do you love me?”
“You know I do,” I say.
“Then why can’t you say it?”
“I do.”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “You don’t. Not anymore. You haven’t said it in months.”
“Neither have you.”
She flinches, the truth written across her face. “You didn’t say it tonight,” she whispers. “And you still haven’t.”
“I love you, Jess,” I say, meaning it. “I wouldn’t be here with you on this fucking mountain if I didn’t.”
Her gaze lingers, uncertain, before she turns around.
“Jess,” I say, reaching for her. “Wait.”
She ignores me, heading into the bathroom and closing the door behind her.
“Dammit,” I mutter to myself.
Alone, I stare at the fire, the moment a horrible weight on my shoulders. I rub my face, my tired eyes blurring as I run my fingers through my hair.
Above me, a shadow shifts near the loft railing. Malcolm stands there, silent and still, watching.
He turns, disappearing back into the shadows.