Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
T he mountain air carried the scent of pine and freshly cut wood as Gemma stepped onto the cabin porch, two mugs of coffee in hand. Three days had passed since the confrontation at the school—three days of statements to the police, of concerned calls from her principal and colleagues, of nightmares that left her gasping and trembling in the dark. But three days, too, of Case’s steady presence, of his arms around her when the dreams came, of quiet assurances that it was over, that she was safe.
That she was home.
She paused at the top of the porch steps, watching as Case worked in the clearing. He’d been up since dawn, measuring, sawing, and hammering with the focused intensity he brought to everything he did. The wooden swing was taking shape now, suspended from the sturdy branch of the old oak that stood sentinel at the edge of the clearing.
Case looked up as if sensing her presence, his face softening into that rare, full smile that still made her heart skip. He set down his tools and crossed to the porch, accepting the mug she offered with a grateful nod.
“It’s coming along,” she said, nodding toward the swing.
“Almost done,” he replied, taking a sip of his coffee. “Just need to finish the seat, sand everything down.”
Gemma let her gaze linger on the swing, something tight and hopeful expanding in her chest. When she’d asked him yesterday what he was building, his answer had stolen her breath: “A swing. For your future kids.”
Not “our future kids.” Not yet. But “yours”—acknowledging the future he saw for her, with or without him. It was such a Case thing to do, to build something permanent while giving her the freedom to choose whether to stay.
As if she could ever leave this mountain now. As if anywhere else could ever be home.
“I spoke with the principal this morning,” she said, leaning against the porch railing. “They want me back whenever I’m ready. No pressure. They also offered me a contract for next year.”
Case nodded, his expression carefully neutral though she could see the question in his eyes. Would she go back? Return to her classroom, to the school where Reynolds had cornered her, where she thought she’d taken a life?
“I told her I’d be back next week,” Gemma continued. “Those kids need their teacher. And “I accepted the contract.”
She held her breath, wondering how Case would react. The approval in Case’s eyes warmed her more than the coffee ever could. He understood her need to reclaim that part of her life, to not let fear—or the memory of Reynolds—steal anything more from her.
“Besides,” she added with a small smile, “the commute isn’t so bad with the right company.”
His hand covered hers on the railing, fingers intertwining with natural ease. “I can drive you in the mornings,” he offered. “Pick you up after. Or we could find you your own truck if you want your independence.”
The simple offer held so much more than transportation. Protection, yes, but also partnership—the promise of shared mornings and evenings, of a life intertwined with his. The casual domesticity of it nearly brought tears to her eyes.
“I’d like that,” she said softly. “Both riding with you and maybe my own vehicle in case you have something important to deal with.”
“Nothing is more important than you,” he replied.
They stood in comfortable silence, watching as a hawk circled high above the trees, riding thermals in the clear blue sky. Gemma felt something settle in her chest, a sense of rightness she’d been searching for her entire life.
“I’m meeting with a counselor next week,” she said after a while. “Jake recommended someone he knew from VA.”
Case’s fingers tightened briefly around hers. “Good,” he said simply. “He’s a good guy.”
The nightmares would take time to fade. The counselor had made that clear when they’d spoken on the phone, gently explaining that trauma didn’t disappear overnight, even when the threat was gone. Some nights Gemma still woke gasping, the image of Reynolds falling to the ground burned into her mind. On those nights, Case held her, his solid presence anchoring her to reality, to safety.
“Gene offered to teach me to shoot,” she added, watching Case’s reaction from the corner of her eye. “Properly, I mean.”
A flash of surprise crossed his face before settling into understanding. “Gene’s a good teacher,” he said. “Patient.”
She’d expected resistance, perhaps—a protective instinct to keep her away from anything that might remind her of that day. But Case simply nodded, respecting her need to face her fears, to turn helplessness into competence.
“I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy it,” she admitted. “But I want to know how. Just in case.”
“Just in case,” he echoed, though they both knew the threat that had driven her for so long was gone. This was about something else—about never feeling powerless again.
Case set his mug down on the porch railing and turned to face her fully, his hands coming up to frame her face with gentle reverence. “You know you’re safe here,” he said, his eyes intent on hers. “No one’s getting past me, past Ty, past any of us, ever again.”
“I know,” she replied, leaning into his touch. “But I want to be strong on my own too. For me.”
Something like pride flickered in his eyes. “You’ve always been strong, Gemma. Strongest person I know.”
She shook her head slightly. “Not like you. Not like your friends.”
“Different kind of strength,” he insisted. “The kind that kept you going, kept you teaching kids and finding joy even when you were terrified. The kind that made you drive up my mountain in an impending storm because you refused to give up on your class field trip.”
Gemma smiled at the memory—how annoyed she’d been when she twisted her ankle, how wary of the mountain man who’d appeared out of nowhere to help her. How could she have known then that this taciturn stranger would become her sanctuary, her home?
“You were mine from the moment I found you on my mountain,” Case said, as if reading her thoughts. “Stubborn, beautiful, refusing my help until you literally couldn’t stand on your own.”
A laugh bubbled up from her chest, unexpected but welcome. “I’m less stubborn now,” she offered, though they both knew it wasn’t entirely true.
“No, you’re not,” he replied, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. “And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”
Gemma reached up, covering his hand with her own. “And I’ll never run again,” she promised. Not from him, not from this life they were building together. Not from herself.
The intensity in his gaze softened to tenderness. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers, their breath mingling in the space between them. “Never had any doubts about that,” he murmured.
When he kissed her, it was gentle at first—a reaffirmation rather than the desperate passion that had marked their earlier encounters. But as Gemma pressed closer, her hands sliding up his chest to lock behind his neck, the kiss deepened, carrying echoes of all they’d overcome to reach this moment.
Case broke away first, his breathing slightly uneven. “I should finish the swing,” he said, though he made no move to release her.
“It can wait,” Gemma replied, taking his hand and tugging him toward the cabin door. “I have other plans for those capable hands of yours.”
A slow smile spread across his face as he allowed her to lead him inside, closing the door behind them with a decisive click. In the bedroom, dappled sunlight filtered through the curtains she’d hung yesterday, transforming the once-spartan space into something softer, warmer. Like the colorful throw pillows on the couch and the bookshelf he’d built for her growing collection, the curtains were small touches that marked her presence here, her permanence.
Case’s hands were gentle as they undressed each other, each movement unhurried, deliberate. This wasn’t the frantic coupling born of fear or desperate need that had characterized their first times together. This was something deeper, more profound—a celebration of survival, of homecoming, of a future neither had dared imagine before.
When they came together on the bed, Gemma let herself be fully present in the moment, aware of every sensation: the warm solidity of Case’s body above hers, the tender way his hands mapped her skin as if committing her to memory, the quiet words of devotion he whispered against her neck, her breasts, her thighs.
Afterward, they lay tangled together in the afternoon light, Case’s heartbeat steady beneath her ear, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare shoulder. Outside, the mountain continued its timeless existence—the wind in the trees, birds calling to one another, the distant sound of water over rocks. Sounds that had once seemed alien to her, but now registered as the soundtrack of home.
“We should put in a garden,” she murmured, the thought surfacing from nowhere. “Next to the swing. Tomatoes, maybe. And flowers.”
Case’s chest rumbled with quiet laughter. “Planning on staying awhile, then?”
Gemma propped herself up on one elbow to look at him, taking in the relaxed set of his features, the unguarded happiness in his eyes. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away from this mountain,” she said, completely serious despite her smile. “Or from you.”
His hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture achingly tender. “Good,” he said simply. “Because I’m never letting you go.”
Coming from anyone else, such words might have triggered alarm bells—too close to the possessive declarations that had driven her into hiding for so long. But from Case, they carried only warmth, only promise. Because his brand of protection had never been about control, never about ownership. It had always been about partnership, about choice.
About love.
Gemma settled back against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. Out the window, she could see the half-finished swing moving gently in the mountain breeze, a promise of future laughter, of children yet to be born, of a life yet to be fully realized.
For the first time in longer than she could remember, Gemma didn’t feel the urge to look over her shoulder, to check the shadows for threats. The nightmares would fade eventually. The memories would lose their sharp edges. And through it all, this mountain, this cabin, this man—they would remain constant, unshakeable.
She was home. At last, she was home.
Y ou met Gene Woodruff briefly in this book but did you know he has a book? Check out A Mountain Man Christmas Crush , available now. Read on for an excerpt. And stay tuned for Ty and Jake’s books, coming soon!