Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
STELLA
"Mama, look! The sun!"
Chellie stands on tiptoes at the window, pointing excitedly at the first rays of sunshine we've seen in four days. The blizzard has finally broken, leaving behind a crystalline world of untouched white stretching to the horizon.
"It's beautiful, baby." I kneel beside her, still wearing Ridge's flannel shirt from last night. "The storm is over."
Her little face turns serious. "No more snow monsters?"
"No more snow monsters," I confirm, smoothing her wild bedhead. "They've gone back to their caves."
The creak of floorboards announces Ridge's approach. My body responds instantly to his presence, a now natural reaction after four days of stolen moments and firelit discoveries.
"Power's still out," he announces, joining us at the window. "But proper cell service is back. Called the utility company. They're saying another day, maybe two before they reach the mountain roads."
He rests his hand casually on my shoulder, thumb tracing small circles on my neck. These casual touches have become our new language, a constant physical conversation flowing beneath our spoken words.
"Roads?" Chellie asks, eyes wide. "We can go see fish store?"
Ridge laughs, the sound warming me more than the sunshine streaming through the window. "Not quite yet, princess. There's a lot of snow to clear first."
My phone buzzes from the coffee table, the first notification in days. Three missed calls and a text message from an unknown number. I open it, stomach dropping at the words on screen.
Unknown: I know where you are. We need to talk about MY daughter.
Rick.
Ridge must feel me tense because his hand tightens on my shoulder. "Stella? What is it?"
I pass him the phone wordlessly, heart hammering against my ribs. His expression darkens as he reads the message.
"How would he know where we are?" His voice remains calm, but I see the storm brewing in his eyes.
"Small town," I manage, painfully aware of Chellie still gazing out the window, oblivious to the sudden tension. "Someone must have seen us in town before the storm and mentioned it."
Ridge sets the phone down carefully, too carefully. "He doesn't know exactly where you are. Just that you're in Whisper Vale. That's something."
"For how long?" Fear claws up my throat. "Once the roads clear, he'll come looking."
"And he won't find you." The certainty in Ridge's voice steadies me. "Not unless you want to be found."
I glance at Chellie, who has wandered to check on Sparkle swimming lazily in his bowl. "We can't keep hiding forever."
"No, we can't." Ridge turns me gently to face him. "So we don't hide. We fight."
"How?"
"We get ahead of this. File for full custody before he can make any claims." His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks. "My brother Colt is engaged to the sheriff's daughter. I'm sure they can connect us to a family lawyer in Carson City. I'll call him once the roads clear."
The concrete plan settles my racing thoughts. "You make it sound so simple."
"It won't be simple." His honesty is both terrifying and comforting. "But nothing worth fighting for ever is."
Those words echo through my mind as the day progresses. Nothing worth fighting for is simple. And this fragile happiness we've built during the storm is absolutely worth fighting for.
By mid-afternoon, the generator finally runs out of fuel. Ridge pulls on his heavy boots and his thickest coat to retrieve more from the shed, wading through snow nearly to his waist. I watch from the window, heart in my throat as he disappears from view.
"Is Widge coming back?" Chellie asks, climbing onto my lap with Mr. Bunny clutched to her chest.
"Of course he is, baby." I press a kiss to her curls. "He's just getting more fuel for the generator."
"What's genmoratator?"
"It's a machine that makes electricity when the power is out. So we can have lights and heat."
She considers this with the serious concentration only toddlers can muster. "I like Widge's house. Even with no power."
"Me too." The admission comes easily, truth I've been feeling since the moment we arrived.
"Can we stay forever?" Her simple question strikes directly at my heart.
Before I can formulate an answer, Ridge reappears, hauling a container of fuel through the deep snow. His return provides a welcome distraction from a question I'm not ready to answer definitively.
Not because I don't know what I want. But because wanting to stay and being able to are two very different things.
Once the generator is running again, Ridge joins us in the great room where we've created another blanket fort to entertain Chellie. The confined space brings us close together, shoulders touching as we sit cross-legged beneath the canopy of sheets.
"Colt texted back," Ridge says quietly as Chellie arranges her stuffed animals for a tea party. "His fiancée Savannah can connect us with a lawyer as soon as the roads are passable."
"That was fast."
"Small town connections." He takes my hand, interlacing our fingers. "Benefits of coming home."
Home. The word carries weight, meaning shifting like sand beneath my feet. For years, home was wherever I happened to be living. Now it's becoming something else entirely. Not a place, but people. Ridge. Chellie. The three of us creating something neither of us anticipated.
"Can I ask you something?" His voice drops lower, ensuring Chellie won't overhear.
I nod, suddenly nervous.
"What did you tell Chellie about her father? Before coming here?"
The question is surprising but fair. "The truth, mostly. That he wasn't ready to be a daddy. That sometimes grown-ups make choices that hurt other people."
Ridge's expression softens. "And now? Has she asked about him since you've been here?"
"No." I realize with surprise that it's true. "Not once. Actually…” My cheeks warm. "She asks more about staying here. She likes it here. Likes you."
"And her mother?" The question hangs loaded with meaning.
"Her mother is terrified," I admit, voice barely above a whisper. "Of wanting too much. Of risking everything again."
"What are you afraid of, specifically?" His thumb traces circles on my palm, grounding me.
"That this is temporary. That once the real world intrudes, once Rick causes problems, once the novelty wears off..." I swallow hard. "That you'll regret taking us in."
His laugh startles me, not at all the reaction I expected. "Novelty? Stella, I've loved you for eight years. Through college and distance and your marriage to another man. If my feelings were going to change, they would have long before now."
"But you didn't sign up for a ready-made family. For custody battles with my ex. For a two-year-old calling you 'Widge' and asking to stay forever."
"Didn't I?" His expression turns serious. "The moment you called, the moment I opened my door to you both, I was all in. This isn't a trial run for me."
The certainty in his voice makes my throat tight. "And what happens when Rick shows up?"
"Then we handle it." His free hand comes up to cup my cheek. "Together."
"Tea, Widge!" Chellie interrupts, thrusting a tiny plastic cup toward him. "Hot tea!"
He accepts it with appropriate gravity. "Why thank you, princess. Just what I needed."
The domestic scene nearly undoes me. Ridge sitting cross-legged in a blanket fort, pretending to sip tea with my daughter. The ease between them. The natural way he's stepped into our lives, filling spaces I didn't even realize were empty.
Later, after Chellie is tucked into bed with promises of sledding tomorrow if the generator holds out, my phone buzzes again. Another text from Rick.
Unknown: Got your address from Peggie at the pet store. There’s so much you can find out with a charming smile and a good story. Nice guy you're shacking up with by the way. Hear he's good with MY kid. We'll talk tomorrow.
My hands shake as I show Ridge the message. His jaw clenches, muscles working beneath his stubble.
"Peggie," he mutters. "Dammit."
"He's coming here." Panic rises in my chest, constricting my breath. "Tomorrow."
"Let him come." Ridge's voice drops to a dangerous rumble. "I'll be waiting."
"No." The word comes out sharper than I intended. "That's exactly what we're not doing."
His eyes narrow. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I don't want a confrontation." I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the fire. "You don't know Rick. He feeds on conflict. Uses it. If you confront him, it'll just make things worse."
"So what's your plan? Hide? Run again?" There's an edge to his voice I haven't heard before. "Because that's worked so well so far."
The comment stings like a slap. "That's not fair."
"Neither is letting this asshole terrorize you and Chellie." He runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "I won't let him intimidate you in my home."
"It's not about intimidation. It's about strategy." I pace away from him, needing distance. "If we antagonize him, he'll use it against us. He'll claim I'm keeping his child from him out of spite."
"He abandoned her before she was born!" Ridge's voice rises before he catches himself, glancing toward the hallway where Chellie sleeps. "He doesn't have a leg to stand on legally."
"Legal doesn't matter if he can manipulate the situation." My voice shakes with the effort to stay calm. "You don't understand how he operates."
"Then explain it to me." He steps closer, reaching for my hands, but I move away.
"He's a narcissist. He twists everything to make himself the victim.
If you threaten him, he'll spin it into a story about the aggressive new boyfriend keeping him from his child.
" The words pour out, old fears bubbling to the surface.
"He'll charm everyone who listens. Make them question my stability as a mother. "
"You can't actually believe—"
"I lived it, Ridge!" My control slips, voice rising despite my best efforts. "I watched him manipulate every situation until I doubted my own sanity. Until my friends believed I was the unreasonable one."
He stares at me, conflict clear in his eyes. "So what's your solution? Let him waltz in here like he owns the place? Like he owns you and Chellie?"
"My solution is to meet him in public. With witnesses. To stay calm and reasonable no matter what he says or does." I swallow hard. "To make sure there's nothing he can use against me."
"That's not a solution. That's a surrender."
The accusation hits home, reopening old wounds. "You think I haven't fought? That I've just been weak? You have no idea what I've been through."
"I'm not saying—"
"Yes, you are." I step back further, walls rising instinctively. "You think this is simple. Black and white. That your brute force approach will solve everything."
His eyes flash. "I'm trying to protect you."
"I don't need your protection." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. "I need your support. There's a difference."
"Stella—"
"No." I hold up a hand, stopping him. "I've spent two years walking on eggshells, making myself smaller, trying not to trigger Rick's temper. I won't do the same with you."
Hurt flashes across his face. "Is that what you think I'm doing? Controlling you like he did?"
The question hits too close to home, exposing fears I haven't fully acknowledged. "I think you're charging ahead without considering the consequences. Without listening to me."
"I'm listening now." His voice softens, but the tension remains in his shoulders. "Tell me what you want to do."
"I want to meet him tomorrow at Darlene's Diner. Public place. Witnesses." I take a steadying breath. "Alone."
"Absolutely not."
"This is exactly what I mean." Frustration bubbles over. "You don't get to decide this for me."
"I'm not letting you face him alone." His tone brooks no argument. "That's non-negotiable."
"Non-negotiable." I laugh, the sound hollow and bitter. "Just like that. My choice doesn't matter."
"Your safety matters." He steps closer, eyes pleading now. "Let me be there. Even if I just sit at another table. Please."
The genuine concern in his voice almost breaks through my defenses. Almost. But the text from Rick has awakened old fears, old patterns that whisper I can't trust anyone completely. Not even Ridge.
"I need to handle this my way." I move toward the guest room where Chellie sleeps. "And I need some space tonight. To think."
He doesn't try to stop me, though the pain in his eyes nearly changes my mind. "Stella, please. Don't shut me out."
"I'm not shutting you out. I'm setting a boundary." The words feel rehearsed, therapy language that doesn't capture the turmoil inside me. "Goodnight, Ridge."
I close the door softly behind me, sliding down against it until I'm sitting on the floor. On the other side, I hear Ridge moving around the great room, footsteps heavy with frustration. Eventually, his bedroom door closes too.
Beside me, Chellie sleeps peacefully, unaware of the fracture forming in our fragile new world. I crawl into bed beside her, gathering her warm little body against mine. She sighs in her sleep, snuggling closer.
"We'll figure this out," I whisper against her curls. "I promise."
But as I stare at the ceiling, sleep elusive despite my exhaustion, I wonder if I've just made a terrible mistake. If pushing away the one person who's truly on my side is the right move. Or if old patterns are sabotaging my chance at happiness.
The sunshine that seemed so promising this morning now feels like a cruel joke. The storm may have broken outside, but inside, clouds are gathering once more.