Chapter 7 Dawson
Chapter seven
Dawson
Christmas morning is quiet except for the fire and the soft creak of the cabin settling under new snow.
Cora is curled against my chest, still asleep, one leg thrown over mine, her hair everywhere.
The lights we strung last night glow gold across her bare shoulder, and I stare at her like the greedy bastard I am, trying to burn this moment into my brain forever.
She stirs, makes a tiny sound, and burrows closer. My heart twists in my chest.
I’ve never had a woman here on Christmas morning. Hell, I’ve never had anyone here on Christmas morning. And now the only person I want in my bed, in my life, is stuck ten miles from town because I live at the top of a mountain that’s currently buried under three fresh feet of powder.
Guilt hits me like a fist.
Dottie, her family, and their traditions. She’s missing them, and they’re missing her.
I ease out from under her, careful not to wake her, and pull on jeans and a thermal. Downstairs, I check the weather report. Roads are still closed, but the plows are working. If I chain up the truck, I can get her down the mountain by late afternoon.
I owe her that choice.
When I climb back into bed, she’s awake, sitting up with the quilt pulled to her chin, hair a wild halo, eyes soft and sleepy and so beautiful it hurts.
“Merry Christmas,” she whispers, smiling like I hung the moon.
My chest cracks wide open.
“Merry Christmas, sunshine.” I sit on the edge of the bed and take her hand.
“Listen… I know you probably want to be with Dottie today. I can get you down the mountain. Whatever it takes. Chains, the back roads, snowshoes if I have to. I don’t want you missing Christmas with your family because of me. ”
The smile dies on her face. For a second, she stares, then her chin trembles and her eyes fill so fast it guts me.
“Oh,” she says, voice small. “Right. Of course. You want me gone.”
“What? No—”
“I get it.” She’s already scrambling out of bed, clutching the quilt like armor. “Storm’s over, fun’s over. I’ll… I’ll get my stuff.”
“Cora—”
“I knew it.” Her laugh is sharp and broken. “I’m such an idiot. You got what you wanted, and now I’m the clingy girl who won’t leave. God, I’m so stupid.”
She’s crying now, fat tears that run down her cheeks, and yanking on my flannel shirt from the floor, buttons shaking in her fingers.
I’m on my feet in half a second. “Stop. Sunshine, stop, you’ve got it wrong.”
She doesn’t. She’s halfway down the stairs, barefoot, tears streaming, muttering about how she knew she wasn’t enough, how maybe she never would be.
The sight of her hurting because of me rips something loose in my chest.
I’m after her in three strides, scooping her up before she reaches the door. She fights for about two seconds, her fists beating against my chest, then goes limp, face buried in my neck, crying so hard her whole body shakes.
I carry her to the couch, sit with her in my lap, and wrap myself around her.
“I’m sorry,” I say into her hair, over and over, rocking her like she’s the most precious thing I’ve ever held. Because she is. “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I swear to God.”
She hiccups against my throat.
“I thought you’d be upset,” I tell her, voice cracking. “That you’d wake up and realize you were missing Christmas with Dottie because some selfish bastard kept you trapped on a mountain. I was trying to give you a way out, not push you through the damn door.”
She stills. Pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes red and swollen and confused.
“I don’t want you gone,” I say, cupping her wet cheeks.
“I’m terrified, Cora. Terrified you’re gonna wake up one day and realize you deserve better than some grumpy guy who lives up a mountain and doesn’t know how to do this.
But I meant it when I said I’m keeping you.
Every single time I said it, I meant it. ”
Her lip trembles. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Dawson Hartman.”
Relief crashes over me so hard I almost drop her.
I kiss her and she kisses me back like she’s drowning and I’m air.
I carry her back to bed, lay her down gently, and strip the flannel off her with shaking hands. When I slide into her, it’s slow, missionary, face-to-face, foreheads touching, eyes locked.
“I’m yours,” I tell her with every deep, deliberate thrust. “You’re not going anywhere. Not today. Not ever.”
She wraps her legs around me, takes me deeper, and I make love to her like I’m trying to rewrite every second she thought I didn’t want her. Slow, endless strokes that drag over every sensitive spot inside her until she’s trembling and whispering my name like a prayer.
When she comes, it’s quiet and devastating, her whole body clenching around me, tears slipping into her hair. I follow her over, burying myself as deep as I can get and staying there, pulsing inside her while I kiss every tear away.
After, I hold her so close there’s no space between us, her head on my chest, my arms locked around her like I can physically keep her from ever doubting again.
Outside, the snow keeps falling, soft and endless.
Inside, I hold the only gift I’ve ever wanted and swear that I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she never cries because of me again.