Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
SEBASTIAN
The truck disappeared around the bend. Then she was gone. Just like that. I stand on the porch long after the dust from the tires has settled. Maybe because part of me expects her to come back. To throw the truck into reverse. To tell me this is all some terrible misunderstanding.
She doesn't. Of course she doesn't. She has every reason to leave. Every reason to hate me. I deserve both.
Behind me, Barbara sighs dramatically. "Well…”
That one word snaps something inside me. I turn toward her. "What are you still doing here?"
She blinks. "I came to find my daughter."
"You found her. She drove away."
"Yes." She folds her arms. "This is your fault."
I laugh. It's a harsh, humorless sound. "My fault?"
"You should've stayed away from her."
My jaw tightens. "You should've stayed away from her."
Her expression hardens. "I was trying to protect her."
I take one slow step toward her. "No." My voice is low. Steady. "You've spent her entire life trying to control her."
Her mouth opens. I don't let her speak. "You paid a man to propose to your own daughter."
"I was helping?—"
"You manipulated her."
"I wanted what was best?—"
"You wanted what was best for yourself."
Silence. She looks away. Because she knows I'm right.
"Get off my mountain."
Her eyes snap back to mine. "You don't own the mountain."
"No." I nod toward the driveway. "But I do own this cabin."
Another long silence. Then she shakes her head. "I always knew you were dramatic."
"And I always knew you never took responsibility."
She scoffs.
"Goodbye, Barbara.”
For the first time in years... I say her name without feeling anything. No anger. No bitterness. Nothing. She's just another stranger. The only person I care about is already gone.
She finally leaves. Her expensive SUV disappears down the same road Caroline took. The mountain falls silent again. I walk back inside. The cabin feels... Wrong.
The coffee mugs are still sitting on the kitchen table.
Her sweater hangs over the back of the chair.
One of her hair ties rests beside the sink.
A novel she'd started reading lies open on the couch.
She is everywhere. And nowhere. I stare at the book for a long moment.
Then I pick it up. A dried pine needle marks her page. I close the cover carefully.
I sulk for hours, that eventually turn into days. I can’t clean. I can’t cook. I don’t want to move anything that might belong to Caroline. I can’t accept that she will no longer be present in a cabin that felt so much like our shared home.
Something catches in my throat. Idiot. Absolute idiot. I sink onto the couch. The same couch where she'd curled beneath one of my blankets. The same couch where we'd laughed until midnight over whether I secretly owned twelve axes. I close my eyes.
Why didn't you tell her? The answer comes immediately.
Because I was afraid. Afraid she'd leave. Afraid she'd look at me differently. Afraid I'd lose the best thing that had ever walked into my life. And because of that fear... I lost her anyway.
I let out a frustrated growl. Then stand so suddenly the coffee table rattles. Without thinking, I drive my fist into the log wall beside the fireplace. The impact explodes through my hand. Pain shoots up my arm. A picture frame falls from the wall and lands crooked on the mantle.
Good. I deserve the pain. I stare at the dent my knuckles left in the wood. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
The question echoes through the empty cabin. I knew. I knew the morning after she arrived. The second I saw Barbara’s face on her phone, I should've marched down that hallway. Knocked on the guest room door. Told her everything.
She would've been hurt. She might've left anyway. But at least... At least she would've known I respected her enough to tell the truth.
Instead... I chose myself. I chose one more day. Then another. Then another. Until every beautiful memory we made carried the weight of a secret. I walk outside and sit on the porch.
I was afraid of losing something I'd barely begun to have. So I tried to postpone the truth. What a spectacular failure. I stand and wander onto the porch. The rocking chair sways beneath my weight. The mountains stretch endlessly before me. For years they were my answer.
Heartbreak? Stay on the mountain.
Loneliness? Stay on the mountain.
Regret? Stay on the mountain.
It had worked. Or so I'd convinced myself. Until Caroline. She'd walked into my life wearing a wedding dress and somehow managed to make this mountain feel even more alive than it already was.
Now she's gone. The mountain is exactly the same. I'm the one who's changed. I stare down the road she'd driven away on. For one terrifying moment I hear myself thinking exactly what the old version of me would have thought.
Stay here. Let her go. She deserves better. She'll be happier without you. You'll only hurt her again. I almost believe it. Almost.
Then another memory pushes through. I'm twenty-eight years old.
Standing in the kitchen of a house that never felt like home.
Barbara is yelling. I'm exhausted. So instead of arguing...
Instead of trying... Instead of demanding better...
I leave. Not forever. Just for the night. One night becomes another.
Then lawyers. Then signatures. Then twenty three years alone. I never fought. Not really. I simply accepted that my marriage was over. With Barbara, there was nothing worth saving. But I never actually tried. I never stood up and said, No. We're going to fix this or fail trying.
The thought hits me with surprising force.
I grip the porch railing. Caroline isn't Barbara.
Not even close. Caroline is kind, funny, honest. She laughs with her whole heart.
She makes strangers feel like old friends.
She makes cabins feel like homes. She isn't someone you let walk away because you're afraid.
She's someone you fight for. The certainty settles into my bones. It's so obvious I almost laugh.
"No." The word comes out loud enough for the trees to hear.
"No." It's not over. Not until she tells me it's over. Not because she's angry. Not because she's hurt. Not because I think I don't deserve her. It's only over if she looks me in the eye after hearing everything I have to say and still chooses to walk away.
Only then. Until that moment... I'm not quitting. I straighten. The fog that's been hanging over my mind begins to clear. A plan starts forming. Simple. No more secrets.
First... I have to find her. That shouldn't be difficult. Shotgun Peak isn't exactly a city. If she didn't go back to her mother—and I know Caroline well enough now to know she'd rather sleep in her car than do that—she's probably found a motel or a small rental somewhere in town.
Second... When I find her, I'm not going to interrupt. I'm not going to defend myself. I'm not going to tell her she misunderstood. Because she didn't. I hurt her. She deserves to say every angry word she's carrying. I'll stand there and listen. Every single one.
Third... When she's finished... I'll tell her everything. Not just the truth about Barbara. Everything. The moment I recognized her mother's face. Every time I tried to speak and failed. Every selfish reason I kept waiting. Every mistake. Every regret. No excuses. Just the truth.
Finally... If she'll let me... I'll tell her the one thing I should have said before any of this happened. The words come easily now.
“Marry me.”
For years I'd convinced myself I'd never say those words again. Now I can't imagine keeping them inside. If I’ve learned anything from that day it’s that I cannot imagine a world where Caroline does not belong to me. I cannot imagine a world where I can’t claim her as mine.
And I don’t care if she wants to wait 50 years to get married, I will wait for her every single day because she’s worth it.
I laugh quietly. She'll probably yell at me. She might slam a door in my face. She might tell me to go to hell. Honestly... I'd deserve every bit of it.
But at least she'll know. At least she'll know that every breakfast, every walk, every laugh, every kiss… it was real.
I head back inside with purpose for the first time since she left.
I grab my truck keys from the hook by the door.
This truck is not as reliable, but since Caroline took my main truck, I don’t really have a choice.
The thought of it makes me laugh to myself.
Then I stop. My gaze lands on the little wooden bear sitting on the bookshelf.
Caroline had picked it up her first night here.
"You carved this? It's beautiful." I smile despite everything.
"I'll bring you home," I murmur to the empty cabin.
But first, I have to head to the jewelry shop. Because next time I see her, I’m going to put a ring on her finger. I’ve learned my lessons. I will make her mine and I will never let her leave me again. I used to think of myself as an eternal bachelor. And now I can’t get down the aisle fast enough.