Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Holt
Idon’t pack much. There isn’t much to take, and I’ve already wasted more time than I should have.
I throw a few things into an old backpack. My eyes land on her flannel, still draped on the back of my chair. For a second, I consider taking it with me.
But no.
The shirt belongs here. With my girl wearing it. Sitting on the counter. Curled on the couch. It’ll be waiting for her when she gets back.
And she will come back, because I can’t imagine a life where she doesn’t.
I pause at the cabin door, my hand on the frame. Do I lock it?
I’ve never locked it.
Then again, I’ve never left. Not for longer than a day in the city for supplies.
Years ago, once I chose Iron Peak to be my refuge, I’d never left. I’d already seen as much of the world as I ever needed to.
Until now.
I leave the door unlocked, partly because I’m not even sure I have a key for it. But mostly, because this mountain is the safest place I’ve ever known.
But as I now know, safety isn’t the same as living.
I don’t look back or glance in the mirror as I drive away. My future is in front of me.
And I’m going to get her.
Tessa
Tofino is busy today.
The crowds are already starting to gather in the little town tucked along the edge of Canada’s wild west coast. Still, I’ve managed to find myself a little table at my cafe where I can watch the ocean roll in.
It’s the type of beauty that makes people believe they’re always about to see something new, and most times, that’s true. I’ve spent many afternoons sitting right here, watching orcas and dolphins play in the bay.
Carefree and wild. I envy them.
My journal sits in front of me. Over the last few weeks, it’s become more of an anchor than an escape. The creative tap that had been opened wide while I was on the mountain has been twisted tightly shut since I left.
No matter what I do or what I try, the words won’t come. I’ve written three lines in the last hour. Every single one of them now scratched out.
This town isn’t wrong for me.
It’s just not right.
A woman walks past with a baby on her hip, her partner reaching over to adjust the tiny knit hat on the little boy’s head. It’s such a small, automatic gesture. But it’s full of love and affection. He looks at her with so much adoration in his eyes, I can feel their love from where I am.
I never wanted that kind of life before. The kind where I settled down with one man. It always felt limiting and suffocating.
But that was before.
Before Holt.
The mountains rise in my memory without any effort. The cabin and the glow of the fire in the hearth. The underlying smell of fresh-cut pine in the air. The way I felt there. Warm. Safe. Calm. Whole.
But none of that changes the fact that no matter how I felt, Holt obviously didn’t feel the same way.
He’d all but pushed me out the door, into a life without him.
He’d been confident of my need to go.
And maybe I did need to leave.
Maybe I needed the distance to understand what it was I truly wanted from my life. And that maybe it—
“Hey.”
My head shoots up. It’s the same guy who’d chatted me up a few days before. He holds his hands up in an “I come in peace” gesture, and I laugh.
“You’re still here.”
I nod. “For now.”
He considers me for a moment and then says, “Maybe what you’re looking for isn’t here.”
“You know what?” I almost laugh. “I was just thinking that.”
His smile is friendly. “A lot of people find themselves here,” he says. “But those people are still looking when they get here. It seems to me like you might have already found what you’re looking for.”
The words from this stranger shouldn’t mean so much to me, yet they hit something deep inside me that resonates loud and clear.
“I think you might be right.” I offer him a smile of my own.
His gaze lingers a moment longer before he says, “Then I’d say that makes you a very lucky woman indeed.” He gives me a small wave and moves on.
I watch him leave before turning back to the water.
No matter how many times I let myself take in the view, I can’t help but think that the mountains would look better instead of the endless expanse of ocean.
With a sigh, I drop my eyes to my notebook and flip to a clean page.
With the pen hovering just above the page, I feel it.
Not the ocean breeze, but something else.
The unmistakable sensation of being watched.
I tell myself not to look. It’s ridiculous how many times I’ve imagined him in crowded places over the last few weeks, where I’d been so sure I’d caught a glimpse of his broad shoulders in a doorway or the flash of his thick, dark hair in the corner of my vision. Every time I’d been disappointed.
Still, I can’t stop myself from lifting my head.
I see the boots first.
Worn. Heavy and wildly out of place by the ocean.
My breath leaves me before I can stop it.
I follow the line of denim up his body to a familiar T-shirt over his strong chest. His shoulders, his arms. His face.
Holt.
He just stands there like he has no idea how out of place he looks against the backdrop of the ocean, throngs of tourists, and surfers.
For a second, I wonder if I’m imagining him again. But then he clears his throat.
Real.
Very real.
My heart doesn’t race. Instead, it settles. A sense of peace I haven’t felt in weeks washes through me.
I don’t move. I just look at him.
He looks right back.
And this time, I don’t look away.
Holt
For a few very long minutes, she looks at me like she’s not sure I’m real. But I see the second she realizes I am, in fact, very real. And I’m standing there in front of her.
It’s a softening as the tension leaves her body like an exhale.
I step closer, stopping at the edge of the table. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “You left the mountain.”
“Couldn’t look for you if I didn’t.”
I try for a joke, but she doesn’t smile. Instead, she tilts her head, examining me more closely. “But you hate leaving the mountain.”
“I hate the idea of losing you more.” The words feel steadier than I expected.
I spent the last thirteen hours in the truck, driving through mountains, forests, and even taking a goddamn ferry to the island to get to her, and the entire time I couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility that I was too late. That I’d already lost her.
The idea killed me.
She sits back in her chair and blows out a breath. “Losing me?”
I nod once. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” I say. “By telling you to leave. I thought I was giving you space to figure things out. And I don’t regret that part, not really.”
She studies me more closely. “You don’t?”
I shake my head. “I’ll never stand in the way of what you want, Tessa. I promise you that. And I’d convinced myself that what you wanted was to travel and move on.” She nods a little. “But what I do regret is not telling you exactly how I felt before you left.”
Her gaze doesn’t waver.
“And how’s that?”
I don’t hesitate. “I love you, Tessa.”
Her breath catches, just barely. If I didn’t know her the way I do, I might have missed it.
“You love me?”
“I do.” I don’t look away. “I tried not to.” I run a hand through my hair. “Lord knows I tried. I told myself it wasn’t fair to you to be loved by an old grump like me. That you deserved more than the mountain. More than me. But that was me deciding for you.”
“You were pretty clear that I should go.” She swallows. “You all but pushed me out the door.”
“I was wrong.”
The words come easier now.
“I don’t get to decide what’s best for you or what kind of life makes you happy.
That’s for you to figure out. If it’s the ocean or some city full of people, I’ll find a way to deal with it.
I’ll support it,” I say. “I’ll support you.
” I let that settle. “But I’m not going to pretend anymore that I don’t love you and that letting you walk away from me again will kill me.
Because it will, Tessa. Not having you will be the end of me. ”
The breeze lifts a strand of her hair and blows it over her cheek. I reach up without thinking and tuck it behind her ear. She doesn’t pull away.
“How did you find me?”
“I asked your dad.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “What?”
“I told him the truth.” My jaw tightens at the memory. “All of it.”
“All of it?” She raises her brows.
“I left out a few details,” I say. “But he knows the important part—that I love you.”
She closes her eyes for a moment and drops her chin to her chest.
“I didn’t come here to interrupt your trip.
” I step closer. “I know it’s important to you to travel and find yourself, and I meant what I said.
I’m not going to be the person who stands in your way.
I didn’t come here to drag you back to the mountain like some caveman.
I’m here because I should have told you all of this before you left.
If you want to spend the rest of your life moving from place to—”
“I love you, too.”
The words stop me mid-sentence.
For a second, all I can do is stare at her.
“You—”
“I love you, Holt,” she repeats, stronger this time. “I have since before I left.”
My chest tightens in a way that has nothing to do with fear.
“I didn’t leave to see if you’d chase me,” she continues, holding my gaze. “I left because I needed to know what was out here and…”
“You didn’t think I chose you.” It hurts me to say the words, but they’re true.
She nods. “I thought you didn’t want me. I’ve spent my whole life being the afterthought, the one nobody really chose and… well, I wasn’t going to stay where I wasn’t wanted.”
“You’re so wanted,” I say without hesitation. “You always have been.”
“I know that now.” A small smile touches her mouth.
The breeze moves between us, carrying the sound of people laughing and the tide rolling in behind us.
“I thought I needed to find something that was missing,” she says. “But every place I visit, every person I meet, all they do is make things clearer for me.” Tessa shakes her head lightly. “The only place I’ve ever felt truly myself was in that cabin. With you.”
I exhale the breath I feel like I’ve been holding for six weeks.
“I want the mountain,” she says. “I want the quiet of the forest. The safety of the cabin in a storm. The life we had for a few short days.” The smile spreads across her face. “I want you.”
“You’re sure?” I almost don’t want to ask, but I need to be. I won’t let her shrink her life for me.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
That does it.
She stands, and I reach for her, sliding a hand around her waist and tugging her to me, closing the space between us.
“You make me a better man, Tessa,” I say roughly. “A complete man.”
“With you, I’ve already found myself,” she says in response. “I like who I am with you.”
I kiss her the way I should have the morning she left. There’s nothing desperate or frantic about it. Just a steady certainty in the way my mouth claims hers, a way that leaves no room for doubt.
When I pull back, I rest my forehead against hers.
“Are you ready to go home, doll?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”