Chapter 40
CHAPTER 40
I slow to a stop at the mouth of his cabin’s driveway. My knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. I’m nervous about seeing him for the first time in six months, but I’m also very excited. I force myself to take a breath, shift into Drive, and nudge the truck onto that narrow stretch of road covered in snow drifts and ice.
The cabin comes into view at the end of the drive—the simple wooden structure nestled among the trees covered in a layer of snow. I ease the truck into Park, the engine rumbling to a stop. The chilly air bites at my cheeks the moment I step out, but I’m too preoccupied drinking in the sight of the place to care. Old moss-covered logs are stacked against the side of the cabin, the faint trail of smoke curling from the chimney—it’s surreal, every little detail bringing me right back to our intimate getaway we shared this summer.
Thwack, thwack.
The sound of an axe biting into wood. He’s here but he doesn’t know I moved my flight up to come see him a few days after our phone call. I round the corner just in time to see Gabe mid-swing with an axe, wearing the same worn denim jacket he had on when he picked me up at the airport all those months ago.
For a second, I just stand there, taking it all in—his broad shoulders, the way he moves—so effortlessly familiar it makes my chest ache. His blond hair is a shade darker now, like it’s been hiding from the summer sun. In the crisp air, his breath mists in front of him.
He finishes splitting the log and tosses it toward the small pile to his left.
“Careful, Gabe. Last time you cut wood, you ended up with stitches,” I call, my voice catching in my throat.
He spins around so fast the axe almost slips from his grip. The second he sees me, it drops with a dull thud to the ground. His eyes widen with disbelief, like he’s seeing a ghost in broad daylight. For a few seconds, he just stares, lips parted, as if the words have lodged in his throat.
I hold out his familiar, well-worn hoodie, forcing a shaky smile. “I, um—had to bring this back. It no longer smells like?—”
In three quick strides, he’s right there, pulling me into a hug so tight I can barely breathe.
“You’re here,” he whispers.
I turn my head to his chest as he just holds me for a moment, and I melt into that comforting warmth, his heartbeat thrumming against my cheek. I exhale a shaky breath, so relieved I’m finally in his arms again.
“I am,” I say, finally pulling back enough to see his face.
“Sunshine, when you were gone, everything felt dark,” he says, letting out a tight, sad laugh. I catch the glint of raw honesty in his eyes as his hand moves in front of my eyes, holding his thumb and index finger close together. “You know, I was this close to dropping everything—Silvertip, the cabin, this whole plan—just to come looking for you. I was terrified I was going to lose you.”
I draw in a shaky breath, heart pounding with the weight of his confession. He would have thrown it all away for me.
“You’re not losing me,” I whisper.
He cups my face gently, his eyes flicking between mine like he’s searching for the right words, working up the courage to speak. “I love you, Soleil,” he finally says, his voice trembling like he’s taking a leap off a cliff. “I don’t think there was ever a moment I didn’t love you. You came into my life and grabbed onto my heart and haven’t let go since.”
“Gabe, I love you too.”
He pauses for a second, eyes flicking to my lips before he dips his head. Our lips meet in a soft, almost hesitant press at first—warm and smooth. I catch the faint taste of his mint toothpaste lingering on my tongue, and there’s a slight tremor in the way he breathes. I slip my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer while his arm winds around my waist, keeping me anchored to him. His mouth moulds to mine with unhurried devotion, like he’s memorizing every angle, every subtle shift of my lips. When his hand slides up my back, I melt into him, letting the months of distance and heartbreak dissolve in the warmth we share now.
Eventually, we slow, pulling apart just enough to rest our foreheads together. My eyes stay closed, savouring the lingering tingle that sparks through my lips.
He lets out a shaky laugh. “This is not how I thought my day was gonna go.” He leans down and gives me a quick peck on the forehead before threading his fingers through mine, letting his thumb graze gently over my knuckles. “Come on,” he says, lips curving into a teasing grin. “Let’s go inside. I’ll make you some coffee.”
“ Just coffee?”
He just winks, gently tugging on my hand. “Do you have some gear to grab?” he asks as we head toward my truck.
“Yeah, I have a few things…”
I follow, popping open the tailgate, only for Gabe’s eyebrows to shoot up comically when he sees my overstuffed suitcases. “Holy— Did you pack for an entire year?” he teases, a smile tugging at his lips.
“I, uh, didn’t know how long I’d be staying.”
He just chuckles, heaving one suitcase onto the ground with an exaggerated grunt. “Well, good,” he says, shooting me a lopsided grin. “Because I’m not letting you leave anytime soon.”
When I first signed up for tree planting, it was born out of desperation more than anything else. My home was gone, my options limited, and my future felt like one big question mark. I didn’t have a career lined up, no clear path to follow—just a gut feeling that I needed to do something new.
In the beginning, I thought it would be a Band-Aid solution: plant some trees, make a little money, figure out my next steps. But those early mornings and long days of planting did more than fill my bank account. They gave me the space to breathe, to prove my own strength, and to realize how much more I’m capable of.
But tree planting also gave me Gabe—my gorgeous, selfless bushman who’s strong and confident in every sense. He’s the kind of person who challenges me at every turn and allows me to challenge him right back. He’s my equal, and over the course of that season, he became someone I respect and admire more than I ever thought possible. Tree planting might’ve uprooted me from what I knew, but it also planted me right where I was meant to be.