Winter Beginnings (Seasons in Montana: Winter)

Chapter Eight

Cass

I stood at the work table in my workshop, flipping through an old Victorian hardware catalog I’d borrowed from the local historical society. The overhead lamp buzzed faintly, bathing the space in a warm, steady glow. Around me, neat rows of salvaged doorknobs and drawer pulls I’d been collecting for Rory’s B&B project glinted in the light. Even though Rory might decide not to keep me on as her contractor now that I’d screwed things up between us, I couldn’t stop myself from trying to help. At least I could pass this research on to whoever comes next, I reasoned with a heavy heart.

A swirl of guilt tightened my chest for the hundredth time since last night. I should’ve told her from the start, I scolded myself. But back then, the thought of revealing I was Cyrus Barrington’s son felt impossible. Now I feared I’d lost her trust, maybe lost her altogether. If she decided I was no longer welcome at the inn, I’d at least ensure she had the best chance at success. I gathered my notes on tile patterns and possible doorknob replacements, stacking them neatly in a folder labeled Evergreen Inn.

Exhaling, I glanced around the workshop’s familiar chaos—scrap lumber, a half-finished table, coils of wiring. Twilight had settled outside, deep and still. The sign taped to my window read Closed, but the streetlamp’s glow filtered in, giving me enough visibility to organize. My breath fogged slightly in the drafty air, reminding me it was time to lock up and head home to my small bungalow on the outskirts of town.

With a final sigh, I began shutting lights off, double-checking the lock on the side door. Thoughts whirled: Did I sabotage any bond Rory and I had built? Even remembering how I’d touched her last night—in a moment of closeness so profound—made my stomach churn with regret. Then the memory of the expression of her face when I finally confessed. One of pure heartbreak. Could she ever forgive me?

Pushing the main door open, I stepped onto the sidewalk. A crisp winter wind whipped at my collar, and I zipped my coat. My truck sat in a parking lot a couple of blocks over. As I rounded the corner, I spotted two figures near a row of parked cars—Rory and a tall, blond man with the all-American type of good looks that belong on a cologne ad. The man wore an expensive-looking coat, perfectly tailored. They stood close, talking with tight expressions. Who is that? My heart thudded. Surely not just a random friend. The way they gazed at each other told me they had history.

I hovered, uncertain. Rory looked distressed, or maybe just intense. Then, to my shock, she reached out and hugged him. The man bent his head, arms encircling her in a gesture far too intimate for casual acquaintances. So that’s how it is , I thought, a hollow ache blooming in my chest. She’s back with her ex . Bailey had mentioned Julian having “classic American good looks”—this had to be him. Of course , I scolded myself. She’s letting him in again. You messed up your chance, Cass.

As they separated from the hug, Rory glanced up. Our eyes met across the distance, and everything in me tightened. She froze, as if caught in a moment she hadn’t wanted me to witness. Stomach twisting, I turned on my heel and strode toward my truck, not wanting to intrude on her reconciliation. My mind spun: You managed to push her straight back into the arms of the ex who broke her heart . The thought was nauseating.

My boots crunched on the asphalt of a small parking lot behind a row of shops. The overhead security light buzzed, painting everything in a bleak glow. I just wanted to reach my truck, get out of here, and nurse my bruised pride in private. But I heard footsteps behind me—running, hurried.

“Cass, wait!” Her voice, breathless, sliced through the cold air. I stopped, fists clenched, not sure if I could handle hearing her confirm she’d taken Julian back.

“Congratulations,” I muttered, removing my car key from my pocket and beeping the locks of my truck open.

She caught up, stepping in front of me, cheeks flushed from the run or the cold—or both. “What are you talking about…congratulations?” she asked, eyes flashing. “You think I’m back with Julian?”

I swallowed. “Looked like you two were… reconnecting. Who am I to interfere? I saw you hugging him just now.”

She let out a frustrated breath, crossing her arms. “He is my ex, yes. But I wasn’t hugging him because we’re back together.” She paused, scanning my face. “I need to talk to you, Cass. Can we go somewhere to get out of this freezing wind?”

My pulse hammered with a mix of hope and dread. “We could go into the shop,” I offered, nodding behind me, “but it’s not exactly comfortable. Or…if you’d rather be at the inn?”

She hesitated. “I haven’t fed Bramble yet, so the inn’s better. Julian’s definitely not going to be there. He’s gone.” She gave me a firm look, as if to emphasize the point. “I need you to hear me out.”

Still uncertain, I dipped my head. “Okay.” I followed her to her car sitting at the curb a short distance away. “Meet you there?”

She squared her shoulders. “Yes. Let’s…let’s just hurry.”

Inside, anxiety churned. Part of me felt relief she wasn’t patching things up with Julian, but I also knew she might be telling me to hand over all my renovation notes and leave. That was my own fault. At least I can say goodbye properly, I told myself. I walked back to my truck and started the engine, then followed her car’s taillights as we made our way through Wintervale’s quiet streets.

We pulled up at the property and I looked up at it with a jumble of emotion warring in my chest. What a mess, I thought as I stepped out into the cold. Rory led the way inside, flicking on a couple of lamps. Bramble raced over, tail wagging. I crouched to pet him, feeling a pang at the thought of missing this cheerful pup if I was no longer welcome.

We ended up in the parlor, the same place we’d first shared a lingering kiss, and settled on the couch. The tension between us zinged with electricity. Rory exhaled slowly, hands clasped on her lap. Her eyes flicked over me, and I detected sadness etched in her features.

“I should explain,” she began. “That was Julian, yes. He showed up wanting another chance. He claimed that he’d just gotten a case of cold feet, if you can believe that. But now he regrets it, wants me back, said all the right things.” Her lips twisted bitterly. “But I told him no. He’s only here in the first place because the fling he left me for ended. He says he wants to fix things , between us, but it’s over. For good.”

Relief whooshed through me, but I tried not to show it. “I see. So you’re… you’re not with him?”

She shook her head. “No. Far from it.”

My heart pounded. So there's hope ? Then I remembered my own guilt. “Rory, I’m still sorry for what I did,” I blurted, voice thick. “I hate myself for not telling you from the start. I should’ve trusted you.”

Her expression softened, though her eyes shone with conflicted emotions. “I forgave you already,” she admitted quietly, placing a hand over mine. Warmth flooded me at the contact. “When I thought it through, I realized it wasn’t about me—it was about your past, your pain. You were coming to terms with your own identity.”

I stared at our joined hands. “Yeah, I knew it was a can of worms. I’m still trying to make sense of it all.”

She nodded, face resolute. “I get it now. But there’s something else.” She reached into a satchel at her side, withdrawing a packet of letters and a leather-bound journal. “Earlier today, I found these. They’re from your father’s days—letters from a woman named Gabriela, plus Cyrus’s own journal. It…may change things.”

My breath caught as she passed me the first set of letters. Reading the signature—Gabriela—and references to pregnancy, heartbreak, and her request that Cyrus not follow—my mind reeled. “My biological mother,” I muttered, voice unsteady. Each line revealed how deeply she’d loved Cyrus but refused to bring him shame. My eyes blurred as I flipped to the final letter. It ended with a vow to vanish, a quiet heartbreak in every word.

I swallowed hard, setting them aside. Rory slid over the journal with the name Cyrus Barrington embossed in faded gold lettering. My pulse thudded as I skimmed entries: “ My beautiful Gabriela is gone…our child is gone…there’s nothing left .” The lines grew frantic over weeks, culminating in a despair that verged on madness. Tears welled in my eyes. “He thought we both died,” I croaked, voice strangled. “He never abandoned me…never gave me up. He just…he didn’t know the doctors saved me.”

Rory’s hand squeezed mine. “Exactly. He loved her, and you deeply. The accident stole that from all of you.”

A sob jolted my chest, and I wiped my cheeks, fighting for composure. I’d believed Cyrus was the hard-hearted father who never wanted me. Now, I realized it was a tragic misunderstanding. The anguish he expressed in his journal was raw, haunting. He never got to know I lived. My chest tightened, tears seeping out despite my attempts to blink them back.

Rory’s other arm slid around me, drawing me close. The comfort felt too good to refuse. “I know it doesn’t undo all the years of pain,” she murmured softly. “But he wasn’t the villain you imagined, Cass.”

I nodded, tears burning my eyes. “Part of me wishes I could go back and show him I survived, let him see I was okay. But at least now I know he didn’t reject me. He wanted us.”

She pressed her forehead to mine, voice trembling with empathy. “I’m so sorry. I just…I had to tell you. I couldn’t let you keep believing he threw you away.”

I inhaled shakily, my heart both shattered and buoyed by relief. He loved me. Something inside me eased, a tension I’d carried all my life, wondering how I’d come to be an orphan. Gently, I set the letters on the table. “Thank you,” I whispered, wiping at my cheeks. “This means everything. I feel…lighter.”

Rory offered a small, hopeful smile. “There’s one more thing. Edna Twinkleberry truly is Cyrus’s niece—she’s your cousin.” A fragile laugh escaped her lips. “Thomas Barrington fathered a child before Cyrus with another woman. That child was Edna’s mother. The family Bible spelled it out.”

I blinked, absorbing the idea of extended family. “So I have an actual living relative here in Wintervale?”

Rory grinned slightly. “Edna doesn’t know about you yet. I wanted to let you decide if or when you want to tell her. She’s the sweetest lady—she’s engaged to Theodore Snowcroft now, focusing on turning Mistletoe & Mochas into a cat café. She’s very excited about their plans.” She paused, looking around the parlor’s battered elegance. “That means, this place still yours to renovate, if you want.”

I surveyed the high walls, the grand windows, the original wooden floors and ornate crown molding. A strange peace settled in my chest. “I feel…like I understand now why I was drawn here. This place is full of history. But maybe it can have a future too, if we believe in it, you know?”

Rory’s eyes glistened. She brushed a tear away. “Yes. A new future for the Evergreen Inn. And…maybe for us?”

My throat tightened at her words. After the pain of last night, hearing her mention a future together made my pulse soar with hope. “You mean…?” I breathed, tangling my fingers with hers.

She nodded, tears brimming. “You asked me to trust you, but I needed time. Now, seeing what you carried… I believe we can move forward, if we do it together. I—I’m falling for you, Cass. I don’t want to lose what we started.”

A rush of emotion nearly overwhelmed me. “God, Rory, I’m falling for you too. I was so sure I’d messed it up beyond repair.” I cupped her cheek, needing to feel her warmth. “Can we build something real? Work on the inn, on… us?”

Her lips curved into a trembling smile. “I’d like that. Yes.”

We might have said more, but words felt secondary compared to the unspoken relief flooding us both. Leaning in, I pressed my forehead to hers, then angled for a kiss. This time, there was no hesitation, no tension. She kissed me back, arms coiling around my neck, bodies melding as if we’d found our missing piece. When we finally broke apart, Bramble let out a small bark, trotting over. I chuckled, reaching down to ruffle his ears. “We can’t forget about our little mascot, right?”

Rory laughed softly, still teary-eyed. “He’s the inn’s official greeter.” She peered up at me, expression gentler and more beautiful than I’d ever seen. “Guess we better keep renovating, so Bramble has a place to greet future guests.”

I slipped an arm around her waist, heart buoyed by the swirl of hope that overshadowed every sorrow we’d endured. “We will. Together. To new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings,” she echoed, a wide smile spreading across her face as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to mine again.