Chapter 13
Lilah
Snowlight is different—soft, like the world’s been sanded down to the essentials. I wake to that hush. For a minute I just breathe, listening for him, checking the truth against the dream.
The truth is in everything. Another one of his flannel shirts he’s placed beside me, ready to put around my shoulders. The scent of Wade on the pillow.
Wade’s at the counter with coffee, head bent, steam climbing past his jaw. He looks like morning was invented for him.
“Hey,” he says when he notices me.
“How bad is it out there?”
“Highway’s still closed. Plows hit the main stretch, but they won’t make the grade until afternoon, maybe tomorrow.”
Wade pours me a cup of coffee and sets the mug in my hand. “Your dad texted. He’s stuck at the station, running calls and checking hydrants.”
“My hero dad.” I swallow a smile with the coffee. “He’s okay?”
“Yeah. Said to tell you he loves you.”
Wade leans against the counter, eyes on the window where wind throws glitter at the glass. He’s quiet, but I can feel the thoughts in him gathering.
“What happens when the road opens?” he asks at last. “To us.”
“I don’t want this to be a fling,” I say, the words surprisingly steady. “I’ve wanted you for years … before I knew what to do with wanting. Yesterday and last night didn’t change my mind. It just took away the excuse.”
His throat works. “Lilah…”
“I know what it means,” I go on, because he needs to hear all of it. “You and my dad. This town. Caleb. I know how it looks. But I’m not a kid, and this wasn’t an accident.”
He sets his mug down like it’s heavier than ceramic. “Your dad’s trusted me with a lot. If I risk that, it has to be for something we’re choosing with both eyes open.”
“Then let’s choose it,” I say simply.
He searches my face like he’s looking for fog he can’t find. “You were supposed to be here two weeks, maybe three. You’ve got a career to build. The road opening doesn’t just mean leaving my driveway.”
“I’m not running.” I take a breath. “I can work from here. I’ve been thinking about it since I got back …
about staying through winter, maybe longer.
There’s an empty storefront on Main that used to be a quilting shop.
If I don’t take it, someone will. I could show in Denver when I need to, but Cady Springs …
it feels like the right ground to plant in. ”
He goes absolutely still. I don’t think I’ve seen him freeze like that since the elk lifted their heads at the flats.
“You’d stay,” he says, like it’s a cliff he’s testing for solid rock.
“I would stay.” I tip my chin. “Not just for you. For me.”
That unlocks something in him. He steps closer.
“Then we tell Dave,” he says. “Not a secret. Not a surprise. We go to the station when the roads are clear and we tell him together.”
“Together,” I echo. The word lands like a stake in good soil.
“Caleb?” I ask. “He’s going to give me trouble, isn’t he?”
“He’ll give me trouble,” Wade says, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “He’ll make a joke. Then he’ll ask what’s for dinner.”
“Sounds like acceptance with extra steps.”
“Something like that.”
We eat our cinnamon rolls at the counter, and it feels like the most grown-up thing I’ve ever done -- choosing a life. I touch his wrist and look at him. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For asking the hard question before we get swept away. For making this real.”
He swallows, and I feel the motion under my fingers. “It’s already real. So, let’s act like it.”
“Yeah,” I say, and mean it. “I’ll begin by always telling you the truth.”