Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
TOM
The lake trail curves through pine forest, each tree branch heavy with fresh snow. Beside me, Kelsie walks with her face tilted toward patches of blue sky, cheeks flushed from cold and exertion. Her hand rests comfortably in mine, our fingers interlaced as if they've always belonged together.
"This is incredible," she says, stopping to take in the view as we reach a clearing. The frozen lake stretches before us, a perfect mirror of white surrounded by mountains that seem close enough to touch. "I can't believe you have this practically in your backyard."
"One of the perks of small town living." I squeeze her hand, enjoying her wonder. "Not many tourists find this trail. Locals mostly keep it to themselves."
"So I'm getting the insider tour?" She smiles up at me, eyes bright behind her fogged glasses.
"Special access." I tuck a wayward curl beneath her hat. "Reserved for guests of the sheriff."
"Is that what I am?" Her tone is teasing but with an underlying question. "A guest?"
The word feels wholly inadequate for what she's become to me in such a short time. Guest. Tenant. Lover. None capture the seismic shift her presence has triggered in my carefully ordered existence.
"You're more than that," I admit, the confession easier here among ancient trees that have witnessed far greater revelations. "Much more."
Her smile softens into something that makes my chest tight. "Good. Because you're more than just my landlord too."
I bend to kiss her, her lips cold at first contact but quickly warming. She tastes like the hot chocolate we brought in thermoses, sweet and rich. When we part, her glasses are completely fogged, and she laughs, removing them to wipe them clean on her scarf.
"Worth it," she says, replacing them. "Even if I'm temporarily blind."
We continue along the trail, our conversation flowing easily. She tells me about her writing progress, how the words are coming faster than she can type them. I’m fascinated by the way her mind works, the stories she creates from observation and imagination.
Eventually we reach a wooden bench overlooking the lake and settle there, shoulders touching, sharing the remaining hot chocolate.
"Can I ask you something personal?" Kelsie says after a comfortable silence.
"You've seen me naked. I think we're past the point of personal boundaries," I reply, drawing a laugh from her.
"After Caroline left..." She hesitates, clearly testing if the topic is allowed. "Did you ever think you'd be open to someone else? To feeling something again?"
The question pierces deeper than she probably intended. I take a moment, watching my breath cloud in the cold air.
"No," I answer honestly. "For years, I wasn't interested. Then eventually, I just didn't think about it anymore. Being alone became normal."
"Until?" She nudges gently.
"Until recently." I meet her eyes, letting her see the truth there. "Until you."
She bites her lower lip, that small gesture of vulnerability undoing something in my chest. "After my divorce, I convinced myself I was done with relationships. That I'd focus on my career, my writing. That it was safer that way."
"What changed?" I ask, though I think I know the answer.
"I came to Whisper Vale." Her smile is genuine. "And met this grumpy sheriff who saw me more clearly in a week than my ex-husband did in three years."
I take her gloved hand in mine, squeezing gently. "I wasn't looking for this," I admit. "Whatever this is between us."
"Neither was I." She leans against my shoulder. "Maybe that's why it found us."
We sit in comfortable silence, watching the winter light play across ice and snow.
"Mason texted earlier," she says casually. "While you were at the station."
The name of her brother brings an immediate shift in my awareness. Mason. My therapist. The man who knows more about my demons than anyone except perhaps Savannah.
"Oh?" I keep my tone neutral. "What about?"
"Nothing specific. Just checking in on me." She shifts to look at me. "He seems pleased about us spending time together."
A sliver of unease works its way under my skin. "What exactly did he say?"
She must hear something in my voice because her expression turns questioning. "Just that he thinks you're good for me. That I seem happier."
"Did he mention anything else?" I try to sound casual but feel tension creeping into my shoulders.
"He did say something about you having been through a lot." She rests a hand on my knee. "That I should be careful with your heart."
The unease crystallizes into something sharper. Mason has been talking to Kelsie about me. About what I've been through. About my heart.
"What else did he tell you about me?" My voice comes out cooler than intended.
Kelsie frowns slightly, clearly confused by my reaction. "Nothing specific. Just that there's more to you than your gruff sheriff exterior."
"And you two discuss me often?" I stand, needing space suddenly. "Compare notes?"
"What? No." She looks genuinely perplexed. "It wasn't like that. He was just being supportive about whatever might be developing between us."
"Supportive." I taste the word, finding it bitter. "Because he knows so much about what I need."
Understanding dawns in her eyes. "Tom, Mason wasn't revealing anything from your sessions. He was just speaking as my brother who cares about us both."
But doubt has taken root, spreading through my thoughts like frost. Eight months of painful conversations. Eight months of revealing parts of myself I've kept buried for sixteen years. All potentially shared with the woman now looking up at me with growing concern, or worse pity.
"What exactly has he told you about our sessions?" I ask, unable to stop myself.
"Nothing!" Her voice rises with her frustration. "I know you see him professionally, but he's never discussed your therapy with me."
"But you've asked." It's not a question but an accusation.
"No." She stands now too, facing me with growing indignation. "I would never violate your privacy that way."
"Then why did you say he told you to be careful with my heart?" The words come out harsher than intended, but I can't seem to modulate my tone. "That sounds like information gained from our sessions."
"He was just being protective of both of us." She wraps her arms around herself, whether from cold or my sudden distance, I can't tell. "Like any brother would."
"Mason isn't just any brother though, is he? He's my therapist." I pace a few steps away, then back. "There are boundaries he's supposed to maintain."
"Which he has maintained." She speaks slowly, as if to a child. "He never once told me anything about your sessions or why you see him."
But suspicion continues to color every interaction in my mind. Had she known about my issues with abandonment when she climbed into my bed? Did she understand exactly which buttons to push based on her brother's insights?
"Then why did you tell him about us?" The question emerges accusatory and sharp. "About what's happening between us?"
"I didn't tell him anything explicit." Her cheeks flush with anger now, not just cold. "He guessed something was going on from how I talked about you."
"And what exactly did you say about me, Kelsie?" I step closer, voice dropping. "That the broken sheriff is good in bed? That his abandonment issues make him easy to manipulate?"
She recoils as if I've slapped her. "That's not fair. I would never discuss you that way with anyone."
"But you did discuss me." The betrayal feels fresh and raw. "With the one person who knows exactly how damaged I am."
"Stop putting words in my mouth." Her eyes flash with anger. "I mentioned we were getting along well. That's it. Mason was the one who brought up being careful with your heart."
"Which he only would have said if you'd indicated something intimate was happening between us." Logic feels like my only defense against the hurt building in my chest.
"Or because he's my brother and he knows me well enough to read between the lines!" She throws her hands up in frustration. "Why are you so determined to believe the worst right now?"
A valid question I'm not prepared to answer honestly. Because letting you in was terrifying, I want to scream. Because waking up with you in my arms felt too good to be true. Because happiness has always been temporary in my experience.
Instead, I deflect. "Why are you so defensive if you have nothing to hide?"
"I'm defensive because you're accusing me of something I would never do." Her voice cracks slightly. "I respect your privacy, Tom. I respect you."
But the damage is done. Doubt has poisoned the afternoon, turning something sweet into something suspicious. I can see her withdrawing, building walls to protect herself from my accusations.
"Let's head back," I say finally, unable to continue this circular argument. "It's getting colder."
The walk back is silent and tense, our earlier closeness replaced by careful distance. The trail that seemed magical on the way out now feels endless, each step taking us further from the connection we shared just an hour ago.
By the time we reach the house, the sun is setting, casting long shadows across pristine snow. Inside, the warmth that welcomed us this morning now feels stifling, the space too small for our unresolved conflict.
"I think I need some space," Kelsie says, removing her coat with deliberate movements. "I'm going to write for a while."
"Fine." I hang my jacket with more force than necessary. "I have reports to review anyway."
We separate to opposite ends of the house, the distance between us measured in more than just feet. I retreat to my office, staring unseeing at paperwork while replaying our conversation.
Had I overreacted? Possibly. But the thought of Mason discussing me with Kelsie, however obliquely, feels like a violation of trust I wasn't prepared for.