8. Bennett
BENNETT
T he silence in the bedroom is the first thing that hits me.
The last few days, the wind has been howling against the cedar logs, a constant reminder of the isolation I’ve spent years perfecting.
But this morning, the world is eerily still.
I crack an eye open and see a sliver of brilliant, blinding blue sky through the gap in the heavy curtains.
The storm has passed.
I look down at the woman curled against my chest. Acacia is still sleeping deeply, her dark auburn hair splayed across my pillow like silk. I still can’t believe this precious woman trusted me with her body.
I crossed a line I shouldn’t have crossed, a line I’ve been craving to obliterate since I pulled her from that ravine.
Or, more accurately, I saw the line and knew I was going to leap over it when the right time came.
I just didn’t expect it to be so soon. We’ve spent the last two days in bed, where I poured every ounce of my silent, jagged longing into her body, and let her see the man beneath the scars.
But now the sun is up, and the emergency is over. She’s not forced to be inside with me. Will Acacia still want me when she realizes she has her whole life ahead of her? I’m just a battered, bitter old man, while she’s this bright, pure beam of sunshine.
A cold knot of anxiety forms in my gut, a feeling more terrifying than any mission I faced in the service.
Neither of us talked about what "this" was.
Is she still my little bird? Or was this all a fluke because of the storm and my closeness?
I slide out of bed with practiced silence, my old injuries barking at the sudden movement, and head to the kitchen to start the coffee.
Breakfast is the most agonizing twenty minutes of my life.
Acacia joins me, looking soft and flushed in the morning light, but the air between us is thick with a heavy, unsaid tension.
She sits at the table on the only kitchen chair I have, while I squat on the upended log I brought in when I realized I had no other furniture.
She had laughed sweetly when she first saw my solution.
Today, however, we eat in a silence that feels brittle.
I find myself staring at my eggs, unable to meet those piercing green eyes. I’m waiting for her to bring it up. I’m waiting for her to say, “Thanks for the rescue, Bennett, but I should probably find my own place now.”
"The snow is deep," I grunt, finally breaking the quiet. It’s a pathetic observation. "I need to shovel the porch and the drive so we can get the truck out."
"Okay," she says softly, her voice small. "I'll clean up in here."
Is she disappointed that I’m leaving? Or anxious to start her new life now that the storm has passed? I don’t fucking know, and apparently, I’m too much of a chicken shit to ask.
Instead of torturing both of us even more, I escape into the cold. The air is crisp, biting, and exactly what I need to clear the fog in my head. I drive the shovel into the drift with enough force to jar my shoulder, my mind racing.
What the hell am I doing? I’m a thirty-eight-year-old retired soldier with more metal in my body than a junkyard and a personality like a grizzly with a toothache.
She’s young, vibrant, and full of a light that I didn't even know existed anymore. She’s moving down the mountain to the town of Hollow Peak, which is technically only fifteen minutes away, but it feels like a different planet.
Are we a couple? Are we dating? I’ve never dated anyone before.
I’ve hunted, I’ve protected, and I’ve survived.
But sitting across from Acacia at breakfast, I felt like a teenager with a crush, too terrified to ask if she actually likes me.
I’m worried this life - my mountain, my silence - isn't enough for her.
What if she gets bored of the quiet? What if she realizes she made a mistake and goes back to the city, back to the sad, beige life she ran from?
The thought makes me want to punch a hole through the porch railing.
When I finally stomp back inside, shedding my ice-crusted coat in the mudroom, I stop dead.
Acacia is standing by the sink, rocking back and forth on her heels.
She’s wearing another one of my heavy flannel shirts, but she’s turned it into a dress by cinching one of my leather belts around her waist. It highlights the curve of her hips and the soft swell of her breasts in a way that makes my mouth go dry.
She looks up at me, biting her lip, the awkwardness in her eyes mirroring my own.
"I... I cleaned up," she says, her voice fluttering.
"I see that," I rumble. I need to say something.
I need to keep her here, or at least near me, for as long as possible.
My brain scrambles for a plan, a tactical maneuver to delay her departure.
"The roads are clear enough for my truck.
I should, uh, give you a tour of Hollow Peak. Show you the town you're moving into."
Her face lights up, just a fraction. Those green eyes twinkle with hope. Or, maybe that’s just what I want to see. "I'd like that, Bennett."
The drive down the mountain is quiet. Acacia tries to make small talk, asking about the different types of pine trees and if I see many bears, but my throat is tight.
I’m too nervous to say much, my hands gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles are white.
I’m waiting for the moment she asks me to drop her off at a motel.
Our first stop is Vega’s Auto and Off-Road. I’ve known the owner, June Vega, for years. She knows better than to ask about my past, which I appreciate. If I know June, she’s already cleared all the roads and towed any cars she found along the way.
Sure enough, June confirms she towed Acacia’s SUV, which has a lot of damage.
It makes me physically ill to look at the smashed vehicle I pulled her from.
She could have been hurt so much worse. She could have died.
I have to stop this line of thinking before I haul Acacia over my shoulder and lock her away in our bedroom for safe keeping.
“...And the total, excluding some of the superficial damage done to the paint, comes to twenty-two hundred. Oh, but you’re a newcomer, right? I’ll take five percent off the service fee, bringing the new total to two thousand dollars.”
Acacia gawks at the estimate she hands her. "Two thousand?” The color drains from her face as she stares blankly ahead. “I... I don't know if I can do that right now, Ms. Vega. I haven't even started looking for a job. Do you offer a payment–"
Before she can finish the sentence, I pull my credit card from my wallet and slap it onto the grease-stained counter.
"Do it all," I command, my voice leaving no room for argument.
"New tires, too. The heavy-duty ones. Check the alignment, the brakes, everything.
Make it the safest vehicle in this county. "
"Bennett, no!" Acacia protests, grabbing my arm. "That’s too much. I can't let you–"
I turn to her, catching her gaze. I let the grumpy hermit mask slip for just a second, letting her see the fierce, possessive need to provide for her. "I like taking care of you, Acacia. Just let me."
She goes quiet, her green eyes searching mine. For a heartbeat, the world stops. I hope she can see it. I hope she can see that I don't just want to pay for her car, I want to be the one who ensures she never hits another patch of ice for the rest of her life.
“You know,” June interrupts. I glare at her, but she rolls her eyes back at me.
June Vega is tough as hell, but she takes good care of the residents here in Hollow Peak.
“I run a monthly Ladies’ Garage Night,” she says, addressing Acacia.
“It won’t help with all the complex stuff going on with your SUV, but I can teach you the basics of car repair and maintenance.
Then you won’t have to rely on this growly beast to do it for you. ”
“Really? That would actually be amazing. I’m new in town, so it’d be a good chance to meet new people, too.”
The two ladies make plans and exchange phone numbers, and then Acacia and I move on, walking through the heart of Hollow Peak.
It’s a postcard-perfect mountain town, and as we stroll past the Bluebird Bookstore and the Timberline Tavern, I watch her take it all in.
My little bird looks like she belongs here, a splash of color against the white snow.
We end up at the Switchback Cafe. It’s the local hub, smelling of roasted coffee beans and Mae’s famous cinnamon rolls.
The owner herself, Mae Whitlock, is behind the counter taking orders.
She’s warm and maternal, but I know she’s also the town gossip.
The older woman has a talent for finding out information, though she only uses her powers for good.
Mae has been known to play cupid every now and then, as well as send anonymous checks to families in need.
Even a grumpy loner like me can appreciate how important she is to Hollow Peak.
“Bennett? Is that really you?” Mae asks in over-exaggerated shock.
“What brought you all the way down here?” Before I can answer, Mae hones in on Acacia.
“Or, maybe I should be asking who brought you all the way down here.” The woman gives me a wink, then turns her attention to Acacia. “Is he treating you well?”
“Oh, um, yes,” Acacia answers, a little surprised at the bluntness of Mae’s question. “Bennett saved my life from a bad car accident. I’d say that’s about the best treatment there is.”
“What a dramatic meet-cute!” Mae coos. “Oh, I’m so happy to have a new face around here, especially if it means seeing more of Bennett. I always knew he’d warm up to this town eventually.” Mae turns her attention back to me, narrowing her eyes. “Took you long enough,” she teases.
I order my coffee and Acacia does the same. She looks over at the bakery case, taking note of the large cinnamon rolls. “Would you like one?” I ask. Acacia shakes her head.
“Do you serve any other baked goods here?” she asks Mae.
“The cinnamon rolls are famous around town, so I mainly stick to that. I used to do more baking, but then we started roasting our own coffee, things got busy and over the years the bakery side of things just kind of dwindled to our most popular items.”
Acacia nods while Mae passes our order along to the barista. We step aside so the next person in line can place their order.
Acacia’s eyes spark as they linger on the half-empty bakery case.
She leans against the counter, her cheeks flushing a soft, dusty pink.
"I’ve always dreamed of owning a real bakery," she confesses, her voice suddenly animated. She starts using her hands to describe her dream shop, imagining where the ovens would go, the smell of fresh sourdough, the way she’d make specialized tarts with local berries.
"But I know it’ll be a long time before that happens. If ever."
Something clicks inside me as I watch her. Her passion is a physical thing, a warmth that rivals the sun outside. She isn't just a girl who fell off a mountain, she’s a woman with a vision. And I want to be the foundation that vision is built on.
I can already taste her sweets. I can see her behind a counter, flour on her nose, looking at me with that same spark.
I don't care about the isolation anymore. I don't care about my quiet mountain. If she wants a bakery, she’ll have the best one in Colorado. I’m already mentally calculating the value of my timber land and the acreage I don't use. I’ll sell it.
I’ll sell every square inch if it means I can buy her the top-of-the-line equipment she deserves.
No matter where she lives, I’m following. She isn't just moving to Hollow Peak, she’s moving into my future. My anxiety from the morning is gone, replaced by a cold, hard determination.
She thinks she’s starting over on her own. She’s wrong. I’m going to make her my wife, and I’m going to build her a kingdom of sugar and flour right here in the shadow of my peak.
"It'll happen, Acacia," I say, my voice a low, possessive rumble as I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll make sure of it."
“One dark roast coffee and one raspberry white mocha!” the barista shouts from the other end of the counter. “I assume this one is yours?” she asks, handing me the sugary-sweet beverage with a mountain of whipped cream.
I blink at her while Acacia giggles. The sound courses through me, unwinding the tension from my muscles. It’s a pure, enchanting melody that will always sound like home to me.
“That would be mine,” Acacia says, taking the drink.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” the barista says. She’s probably around Acacia’s age, in her early twenties. “And I’d definitely remember. I know all the regulars. I’m Mia, by the way.”
Mia wipes her hand on her apron and then holds it out for Acacia to shake.
“I’m Acacia. I just moved here,” she offers.
“I got off to a dramatic start, but I’m hoping things will settle down soon enough.
” She glances at me over her shoulder, but I can’t quite place the look in her eyes.
Is she saying things will be calmer when I leave?
“A newcomer!” Mia exclaims with a bright smile. Acacia returns it.
“I’m hoping to become a regular here. I haven’t quite figured out my next steps, but coffee will always be involved.” The women grin at each other.
“Could not agree more,” Mia says in all seriousness. The next second, she beams a big smile at Acacia. “We should hang out. I can already tell we’re going to be friends.”
“Maybe Acacia here can give you some relationship advice,” Mae interrupts. She gives Mia a pointed look. “She tamed ol’ growly grizzly over here,” she says, pointing in my direction. “So she must have a secret. She can help you with your growly mountain man.”
Mia turns five shades of red, and Acacia looks at the ground, neither of them prepared for Mae’s meddling.
I stand back and sip my coffee, watching the three women tease each other in good fun.
Something settles deep in my soul. I love seeing my little bird socialize and make friends.
Her spirit is far too bright to be locked away inside my cabin.
I know what I need to do now. Our future is clearer than ever.