Chapter 7 Grace
GRACE
I’m starting to think Lucian won’t answer me.
I’m not surprised. He seems determined to keep his walls up, never telling me anything too personal about himself.
Never making himself vulnerable. It stings more than it should, but I don’t push him.
Talking about what happened with my parents was hard, and he didn’t rush me or force anything.
If he really is about to open up to me, the least I can do is give him time.
“It happened twelve years ago,” he says eventually, meeting my gaze from across the table. “Back when I was still living in Alaska.” He falters, but continues when I give him an encouraging nod. “I owned a building company there with my twin brother, Dominic.”
I try to hide the jolt of surprise in my chest. Lucian seems like such a lone wolf—it’s hard to imagine him having a twin. But I don’t interrupt.
“We had an office in the small town we grew up in: Glacier Point. We were pretty successful. Mainly did contract work, but we also built our own cabins in the forest outside the town. It was kind of like Cherry Mountain, but colder…wilder.”
I listen raptly, a shiver of foreboding running through me. This story doesn’t have a happy ending. I can see the pain in Lucian’s eyes all too clearly now, the heaviness that I always assumed was just grumpiness. He looks like a man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“There was a shortcut through the woods to Glacier Point. Would have made walking there from our cabins twice as fast. But the shortcut was cut off by the river—too wide to jump across. The section of river was on Dominic’s land, so we figured we’d just build a log bridge over it.
Didn’t have much experience of building bridges—we mostly built cabins—but figured it shouldn’t be too difficult. ”
He swallows hard before continuing.
“My brother was the ideas guy. He drew up the plans, did all the math. I did the actual building. Took me a couple of days. It was a pretty simple bridge, but I figured it would do the job.” I see his jaw tighten, something flaring in his eyes. “I was wrong…I fucked up.”
My heart sinks like a stone, but I don’t say a word. I barely even breathe. Lucian is talking fast now, like a dam has burst, his words spilling out in a deep, mumbled rush.
“There was a problem with the ground at one end. Looked solid. Felt solid. But it wasn’t.
Underneath the topsoil, it was loose. Water was getting in when it rained, and I couldn’t see it.
Meant the whole bridge was unstable—but I didn’t know that.
Not at first. When I tested the bridge, it held.
It seemed sturdy. But then it rained overnight.
” He gestures vaguely upward, where rain is hammering the cabin roof.
“Real heavy, just like this. Same time of year.”
I think I know where this is going. I can see it, like an avalanche coming toward me, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. All I can do is listen as Lucian continues his story.
“The next morning was dry and sunny, so Dominic suggested we take the shortcut over the bridge to Glacier Point. We were due to work on a house there. The river was still running fast after the rainfall the night before, but I didn’t give it a second thought.
I thought the bridge was safe. Until Dominic started walking across.
” His voice is so low now that I can barely hear it.
“It happened fast. So damn fast. He took a few steps and the whole thing tilted. It threw him straight into the river. He was a strong swimmer, but the current was stronger. I couldn’t get to him in time.
They found his body the next day, about twenty miles downstream… ”
I knew it was coming, but it doesn’t stop the wave of horror, and I instinctively bring my hand to my mouth.
I can’t imagine how Lucian must have felt in that moment.
The sheer panic. Then the grief. The guilt.
In my mind’s eye, I remember how Lucian looked when he pulled me back from the river the day we met. The wild fear in his expression.
I reach across the table and grip his hand firmly. “I’m so sorry.” The words aren’t nearly enough, but they’re all I have.
“Thanks, Grace.” He squeezes my hand, his palm warm and calloused against mine.
His shoulders seem to loosen slightly, like he just dropped a heavy backpack he was carrying all day, and he lets out a deep sigh before he continues.
“It fucked me up for a long time. I sold the company right after it happened. Left Alaska and moved out here. Didn’t bring anything with me except Dominic’s cat.
” He gestures to Midnight, who’s still curled up peacefully by the fire.
“I bought this place. Started chopping wood and selling it. But I don’t build anything anymore.
Don’t trust myself enough. Not after that. ”
Lucian tapers off and slumps back in his chair, like he’s been zapped of all his energy.
I feel like I’m seeing beneath his mask for the first time.
Behind the grumpiness and the gruff words.
I can’t help myself. I get up from my chair, round the table, and throw my arms around him tight.
He smells of pine and wood smoke, and I bury my face against his shoulder, breathing him in.
“Thank you for telling me all that,” I say, my voice muffled against him. “I know it wasn’t easy, and I’m so sorry you had to go through it.”
He’s still sitting down, seemingly too shocked to move for a moment, but then I feel a strong arm around my shoulders, a hand rubbing my back.
“Thank you.” His voice is a deep rumble in my ear, sad but strong. “This is the first time I’ve talked about it. Feels better than I thought it would.”
We stay locked in our embrace for a long time.
Silence falls between us, each of us lost in thought.
I’m still processing everything Lucian told me.
I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I lost Mila, but I know it would be like my whole world had suddenly ended.
It hurts my heart to think that Lucian has been carrying around that much pain for twelve years.
He must be so lonely without his twin—his missing piece.
The thought makes me hug him even tighter.
When we finally break apart, Lucian looks calmer than before, like a clenched fist that’s been unfurled. I sit back down opposite him, and he takes my hand across the table, the warmth of his touch making my skin tingle.
“I’d love to hear more about your brother,” I tell him softly. “If it’s not too painful.”
Somehow, it doesn’t feel right to hear about Dominic’s death without also hearing about his life—who he was.
“He was nothing like me,” Lucian says. “I’ve always been an antisocial grump. But Dominic was the opposite. Hell, I guess he was kind of like you.”
I blink at him. “Like me?”
“Yeah. He was an optimist. Always looked on the bright side, saw the best in people. But most of all, he was kind. Had a good heart. Like you.”
Lucian says it so matter-of-factly that I feel my cheeks warm.
But I can’t help challenging him. “You’re kind, too.
I’m only sitting here right now because of your kindness.
You saved my life, remember?” Lucian looks unconvinced, but I persevere.
“Without your kindness, I’d be freezing my butt off in Holden’s cabin right now, or walking through the rain to get here.
Being kind isn’t just sunshine and rainbows and smiles all the time. Real kindness runs deeper than that.”
“You trying to say I’m not sunshine and rainbows and smiles?” Lucian asks, his brow furrowing into a comically deep scowl. I can’t help giggling.
“I’m just saying that there are lots of different ways to be kind…and honestly, I think you’re the kindest person I’ve ever met.”
Lucian looks at me for a long time, piercing me with his stormy gray eyes.
“I don’t know about that,” he says eventually. “But I’m glad you think so.”
“I really do.”
He’s still holding my hand across the table, his thumb moving in circles against my skin.
Something has shifted between us. I can feel it.
We’ve opened up to each other, laid ourselves bare, and now everything feels different.
But there’s still something holding Lucian back.
Something that forces his gaze away every time he looks at me.
Whatever it is seems to hit him all at once, and he suddenly pulls his hand from mine.
“I’d better show you to the guest room,” he says, already standing up.
The clock on the wall says it’s barely ten, but I don’t argue.
I pet Midnight to say goodnight while Lucian grabs my bag, then I follow him through a wooden corridor and into the guest bedroom.
It’s spacious but sparse, with only a bed and a closet.
But it’s still rustically charming, made from the same dark wood as the rest of the cabin.
“Sorry it’s so empty,” Lucian says. “It’s never used.”
“I don’t mind; it’s still cozy.”
He sets my bag down, and I thank him for carrying it. Then silence falls between us, stretching on for a beat too long as we stand together by the bed. The air is thick with tension. It pulses around us like a living thing, making it hard to breathe.
Me. Lucian. A double bed.
I look up at him, his huge frame dwarfing mine, a smattering of chest hair visible beneath the open buttons of his flannel shirt.
He looks more handsome than ever. Every inch of me is desperate to be in his arms. To be close to him, touch him, feel him.
It felt so natural to hug him earlier. He was completely unguarded for the first time since I met him, but now his walls have risen up again.
They might not be as high as before—there’s no taking back the way he opened up to me—but they still feel as solid and unmovable as mountains.
“I’ll let you get some sleep,” Lucian says, finally breaking the silence.
He heads out the door, then pauses on the threshold, turning back to me.
Our eyes meet, gray and green, and for a moment, it looks like Lucian is about to say something.
His lips part beneath his beard, then close again.
I see his fingers tighten against the door, like he’s preparing to tear it off its hinges.
It feels like something is raging inside him, some internal battle that I don’t understand.
But eventually, he breaks our gaze, scowling at the ground.
“Goodnight, Grace,” he says gruffly.
“Goodnight, Lucian.”
Then he leaves, shutting the door and taking a piece of my heart with him.