Chapter 11 - Autumn #2
The rhythm is meditative, steady. I could set a clock by it. I save my work and close the laptop, stretching my arms overhead. My body aches in the best way, a combination of yesterday's hike to the waterfall and last night's activities that had me screaming Rhett's name until my voice went hoarse.
A month. It's been a month since the storm, since I nearly died, since everything changed.
And somehow, I haven't left.
Well, that's not entirely true. I've gone back to town several times, to reassure my mom I'm alive, to pick up supplies, to maintain some connection to my old life.
But I always come back here. To him. To this cabin that's starting to feel more like home than the apartment I'm still technically renting.
My channel hasn't suffered. If anything, my content has gotten better. More authentic. I'm filming different things now: the reality of mountain living, foraging for food, learning traditional skills. My followers love it. Comments pour in about how grounded I seem, how happy I am.
They have no idea how literal that grounding is. How I'm literally bound to a man who can turn into a bear. How I've discovered a whole hidden world of shifters that exists right alongside humanity.
Rhett emerges from around the side of the cabin, shirtless and gleaming with sweat despite the cooling autumn air. He's carrying another load of split wood, muscles flexing with the weight.
I will never get tired of looking at him.
"You're staring," he says without looking at me, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Can you blame me? You're basically a walking advertisement for lumberjack porn."
He snorts, stacking the wood. "Lumberjack porn?"
"It's a thing. A very popular thing. You'd make a fortune if you let me film you chopping wood shirtless."
"Absolutely not."
"I wasn't serious. Mostly." I stand and stretch, wincing slightly. "Though my subscribers do keep asking about the 'mysterious mountain man' I keep mentioning."
That makes him pause. We've talked about this: how much of our life together I can share, how to maintain his privacy while still being authentic in my content.
"What do you tell them?" he asks.
"That you're shy. That you value your privacy. That some things are meant to be kept sacred." I cross to him and wrap my arms around his waist from behind, pressing my cheek against his sweat-slicked back. "I'd never expose you, Rhett. You know that, right?"
His hand comes up to cover mine. "I know."
"Good." I kiss his shoulder blade, tasting salt. "Because you're mine, and I don't share."
He turns in my arms, and there's heat in his eyes. "Possessive."
"You made me this way. All that 'mine, mine, mine' stuff during sex. It goes both ways, buddy."
"Good," he rumbles, pulling me closer. "I like you possessive."
The bear likes it too. I can feel it purring through our bond, something that's gotten stronger over the past month. I can sense Rhett's emotions now, feel when the bear is close to the surface, know when he needs space or touch or just my presence.
It should be overwhelming. Should feel like too much, too invasive.
Instead, it feels right. Like this is how it's always supposed to have been.
"My mom wants to meet you," I say, resting my head against his chest.
He goes still. "What?"
"She's been asking. Says any man who makes her daughter this happy deserves a proper introduction."
"Autumn—"
"I know. I know it's complicated. But she's not going to judge you. She's the most open-minded person I know. And I've already told her you're... different. Not the shifter thing," I add quickly, feeling his tension spike. "Just that you're private. Reclusive. That you've been through things."
"What did you tell her about us?"
"That we're together. That I'm happier than I've ever been. That I might be spending more time up here than in town from now on." I pause. "She asked if you're good to me."
"What did you say?"
"That you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
His arms tighten around me. The bond floods with emotion: gratitude, disbelief, fierce protectiveness, and something deeper. Something he hasn't said out loud yet but that I feel every time he looks at me.
Love.
He's falling in love with me. Maybe already has fallen. And I'm falling right back, tumbling head over heels for this grumpy, broken, beautiful man and his bear.
"I don't know how to meet parents," he admits. "Never did it before. Never had reason to."
"You just show up and be yourself. She'll love you."
"I'm not exactly lovable."
"I beg to differ." I pull back enough to look up at him. "And you don't have to decide right now. Just think about it, okay? She's important to me, and you're important to me, and I'd like my two favorite people to know each other."
He cups my face with one large hand, his thumb stroking my cheekbone. "I'll think about it."
"That's all I ask."
He kisses me then, and I melt into it. A month of this and I'm still not used to how good it feels. How right. When we break apart, he's looking at me with that intense focus that still makes my stomach flutter.
"What?" I ask.
"Move in with me."
I blink. "What?"
"Don't go back to town except for supplies and to see your mother. Stay here. With me. Make this official."
"Rhett, I practically already live here."
"I know. But I want it to be real. Want your things here, want to know you're coming back every night, want—" He stops, jaw working. "Want you to choose this. Choose me. Permanently."
My heart is pounding. This is huge. This is giving up my apartment, my independence, my easy access to civilization.
This is choosing a life on a mountain with a bear shifter who still has nightmares, who still struggles with control, who's still learning how to be in a relationship.
This is choosing us.
"Okay," I say.
"Okay?"
"Okay, I'll move in. Officially. Permanently. All of it."
The joy that floods through the bond is almost overwhelming. He picks me up and spins me around, and I laugh, clinging to his shoulders.
"You're sure?" he asks, setting me down but not letting go.
"I'm sure. I love it here. I love—" I catch myself, but he's looking at me with such hope that I can't stop the words. "I love you."
He goes very, very still.
"You don't have to say it back," I add quickly. "I know it's soon, I know we're still figuring this out, I just—"
"I love you too," he interrupts roughly. "Fuck, Autumn, I've loved you since you showed up with chocolate and refused to be scared of me. I just didn't know how to say it."
"You just did."
"I love you," he says again, like he's testing the words. "I love you. Is that right? Does it sound right?"
"It sounds perfect."
He kisses me again, and I can feel the bear surging forward, wanting to claim, to mark, to celebrate.
"Bed," I murmur against his mouth. "Now."
"Demanding."
"You love it."
"I love you," he corrects, already steering me toward the cabin door. "Everything else is just details."
And as he carries me inside, our bond singing with happiness and desire and the bone-deep certainty of forever, I can't help but think about how wrong I was a month ago.
I thought I was just exploring the mountains around Blackwater Falls.
Turns out I was finding home.
I was finding him. I was finding us. And I wouldn't change a single second of it.
Even the hypothermia.
Well. Maybe I'd skip the hypothermia.
But everything else? Perfect.
Absolutely perfect.