9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Eden
I wake before him the next morning, though Gage's warmth still lingers on my skin.
The cabin's silence is like a tightrope, the smallest sound I make as I slip from the bed feeling enormous in the silence of the mountains.
I creep across the bedroom, pulling his flannel shirt over my naked body and leaving Gage to sleep peacefully.
My bare feet pad across the wooden floors, fingers trailing along the rough-hewn walls. Everything here feels solid, real. I pause at his bookshelf, running my fingers along the spines until I find an old leather-bound book I've never heard of.
A photo slips from between the pages, floating to the floor.
Picking it up, the image catches my breath.
It's Gage, but younger, his face unguarded, caught mid-laugh. No scars, no shadows in his eyes. He's clean-shaved and really handsome, but in a different way to the gruff masculine man he is now.
My heart pounds against my ribs as I trace his smile with my fingertip.
My gaze drifts around the cabin, taking in the life he's built here. The knife stuck in the kitchen counter. The worn leather couch where we made love. The fire he keeps burning day and night.
Everything speaks of isolation, of a man who carved out his own world away from everyone else.
But there's beauty here too. The morning light streams through the windows, with golden shadows starting to move across the rough wooden floors.
I slide the photo back between the pages, careful not to bend the corners. The leather binding feels smooth under my fingers as I return it to its spot on the shelf.
This place isn't just a hideout anymore. Standing here in his flannel, surrounded by pieces of his life, I realize it's become something else.
A sanctuary. A home.
Perhaps not even just for him… but for both of us.
My fingers trail along the spines of other books, wondering how many nights he spent here alone, reading by firelight. How many storms he weathered. How many times he thought about reaching out to someone, but chose solitude instead.
The cabin holds so many pieces of him.
I place my palm flat against the wooden wall, feeling the strength of the logs he fitted together with his own hands. Everything here was built with purpose, with care. Nothing wasteful or frivolous.
Just like the man himself.
In the bathroom, I stare at my reflection in the clouded mirror. My hair is wild, my lips still swollen from his endless kisses these past few days.
But it's my eyes that catch me – they're bright, alive.
Shit… I can barely recognize myself.
Three days. I've only been here three days, yet everything has shifted. The weight I've carried since Dad died feels lighter, as if these mountains have lifted it from my shoulders.
For the first time in eight years, I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
And I truly believe that.
A buzz breaks the silence… Huh? My phone?
I fish it out of my discarded blazer pocket that's been crumpled on the floor since I changed days ago now. Flipping my phone in my grasp, I'm surprised to see a single bar of reception flickering in the corner.
Mom's message lights up the screen: Don't forget – Preston & Associates at 9AM sharp. This is your chance, Eden. Don't throw it away.
The reception bar disappears as quickly as it appeared, but the damage is done. Reality crashes back in, harsh and cold as the mountain wind.
The interview. Denver. The life I was supposed to want.
I slip outside, desperately needing some fresh air.
The morning chill hits me, the mountains rising before me, majestic and indifferent to my turmoil. Fresh snow blankets everything, pristine and untouched except for the deer tracks I photographed yesterday.
My gaze drifts to the patched roof, where Gage and I worked together in the rain. The tarp flutters slightly in the breeze, a reminder of how naturally we fell into sync, how right it felt to build something with him.
The vegetable garden catches my eye, neat rows partially visible under the melting snow. I can almost taste the carrots he sautéed, see his concentrated expression as he cooked for me that first morning.
No one's ever done that before – created something just for me, with such care and attention.
But my phone burns in my pocket, Mom's message echoing in my mind.
My heart pounds so hard I press my palm against my chest. What would people say if I stayed? If I chose this wild, isolated life with a man who's been alone for so long?
God, what if this is just lust for him? A seed he's been desperate to sow for God knows how long?
of course, the heat between us is undeniable, but what happens when it cools? When the novelty wears off and I'm left here, miles from civilization, with a man who might never fully let me in?
I trace my fingers over the rough garden fence he built. Everything here speaks of permanence, of roots sunk deep into unforgiving soil.
It's beautiful, breathtaking even, but it's also terrifying.
Gage will never leave this place.
What if I wake up one morning and realize I've made a terrible mistake? That I've thrown away my future for a fantasy in the mountains?
The crunch of boots in snow alerts me to Gage's presence before his warmth radiates against my back.
"You okay, sunshine?" His voice rumbles low behind me.
I force my lips into a smile, not turning around. "Yeah. Just thinking."
"About?" His hands slide into his pockets as he moves to stand beside me, studying the mountains.
"The storm's gone." I gesture at the brilliant blue sky. "Everything looks different in the sunlight."
"Different good or different bad?"
I shrug, watching a beautiful blue bird land on the garden fence. "Just... different."
His eyes track my face, reading more than I want him to see. "Weather report says the roads will be clear by afternoon."
My stomach clenches. "Back to civilization."
"Eden-"
"Look how bright it is." I cut him off, pointing at the glinting snow. "Hard to believe the storm can make everything so dark."
He's quiet for a long moment, then straightens. "Come on. Let's eat."
"Now?"
"Got some potatoes that need using. Maybe those mushrooms we found from yesterday too." He heads toward the garden, boots leaving deep prints in the snow.
I watch him dig through the snow, unearthing vegetables from beneath the thick layer of powder. He moves like he's done this a thousand times, like this is just another normal morning.
But it's not normal. Nothing about this is normal.
Is he just assuming I'll stay? That I'll slot perfectly into his isolated world without any discussion?
He emerges from the garden, arms full of vegetables. "Coming?"
My feet stay rooted in place as questions swirl through my mind. Do I even get a say in this? Have we actually talked about what happens next?
"Eden?" He pauses at the door, concern creasing his brow.
The words burst from my lips before I can stop them. "I don't know if I can just stay here forever, Gage."
His entire body goes rigid. The vegetables tumble from his arms, potatoes rolling across the snow-dusted porch.
"I see." His voice turns to ice.
"That's not—I didn't mean—" I wrap my arms around myself. "I just... we haven't even talked about what happens next. About what this means."
"What's there to talk about?" He bends to collect the fallen vegetables, movements sharp. "Thought you made it clear enough."
"No, I haven't made anything clear because we haven't discussed it at all!" My voice cracks. "You're up here in your perfect little isolated world, and I'm supposed to what? Just move in? Give up everything else without even a conversation?"
His jaw clenches. "Nobody's forcing you to stay."
"That's not fair. You know that's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean, Eden?" He straightens, eyes cold. "Because from where I'm standing, it seems like you've got what you wanted. Had your little mountain adventure. Now it's time to go back to your real life, right?"
"Stop it." Tears burn behind my eyes. "Don't do that. Don't act like what happened between us was nothing."
"Well," he puffs, shaking his head. "Clearly what happened between us was a mistake." Each word falls like a hammer blow. "One I won't make again."
"Gage—"
"Go inside." He turns away, shoulders rigid. "I need to check the generator before the roads clear."
The tenderness from earlier vanishes, replaced by the distant, closed-off soldier I first met at his door. In the space of thirty seconds, he's erected every wall I spent days breaking down.
The next few hours are torture.
The cabin feels like a minefield as I tiptoe around its familiar spaces that now feel foreign. The vegetables Gage retrieved simmer in a pot neither of us will touch. He stomps through rooms, slamming cabinet doors, while I curl deeper into the couch that just hours ago held so much promise.
When he drops a bowl of soup in front of me, the spoon clatters against ceramic. No "sunshine." No teasing. Just a grunt before he retreats to the kitchen.
I force down a few spoonfuls, the rich broth now tasteless. Across the room, Gage attacks his own bowl, each scrape of his spoon like an accusation of everything I said this morning.
God…
Why did I have to say anything? Why did I open my mouth?
With tears in my eyes, I decide enough is enough. The roads are clear, and so are Gage's wishes.
My few belongings don't take long to gather. The damp silk blouse clings uncomfortably as I change in his bathroom one last time. I fold his borrowed flannel with trembling fingers, smoothing the wrinkles before placing it on his bed.
The suit pants I carefully selected for the interview are stiff with dried mud when I pull them on. My blazer smells like wet wool and memories I can't keep. I stuff my phone and wallet into my pockets, each item a weight dragging me back to reality.
I sink onto the edge of Gage's bed, my fingers still clutching his folded flannel. The mattress dips beneath me, and I breathe in the lingering scent of him one last time.
My car's probably still buried in that snowdrift. The image of spinning tires, the screech of metal, the airbag's chemical smell—it all floods back.
I could have died out there.
But I didn't. Because somehow, the universe guided me straight to him.
"I tried, Dad." The words slip out before I can stop them. "I really did."
Dad always said opportunities don't knock twice. He'd drill it into me during our camping trips, pointing at the stars like they held all life's answers. " When life opens a door, Eden-girl, you walk through it. No hesitation. "
But which door is the right one? The accounting interview that makes Mom proud? Or the rough-hewn cabin doorway I stumbled through, half-frozen and desperate?
Now I'm walking away. From the garden Gage tends so carefully. From the kitchen where he cooks like it's an act of service. From the man who held me like I was precious while showing me exactly how rough he could be.
The tears finally spill over. Because Dad never told me what to do when seizing an opportunity means breaking someone's heart—including my own.
When I appear in the doorway, Gage's eyes lock onto me. His jaw tightens at the sight of my dirty clothes, at the final proof that our bubble has burst.
The muscle in his cheek jumps as he grips his coffee mug harder.
"Can you take me to the closest town so I can organize a tow?" My voice sounds small in the heavy silence. "I need to go home now."
I watch him rise, his movements stiff.
A set of keys jangle in his hand - a harsh, final sound that will haunt me forever.
My eyes sweep across the cabin one last time, taking in every detail I want to remember.
Then, my heart splinters as I turn away.
Some opportunities only knock once.
I just didn't expect leaving to hurt quite this much.