Chapter 6 Colt
Colt
The rescue vehicles pull into my driveway just as Ivy whispers "Choose," and I realize I already have.
I've chosen her from the moment she showed up at my door with snow in her hair and Christmas cookies from my mother. I've chosen her every second since, even when I was too scared to admit it.
Fire Chief Cal MacAlpin climbs out of the lead vehicle, followed by two paramedics and Lottie from the bakery. Ivy's boss looks frantic, her face pale with worry.
"Ivy!" Lottie calls out, rushing toward the cabin. "Oh thank God, you're safe! The Chief here found your vehicle and we thought the worst!"
"I'm fine," Ivy assures her, but I can see the way she's watching me, waiting for my answer to her ultimatum.
"We need to check you both over," one of the paramedics says. "Make sure there are no injuries from the crash."
"I'm fine," I say roughly. "Check her."
Cal approaches while the paramedic examines Ivy. "Colt. Looks like you've been taking care of Lottie’s new girl here."
Our girl. The possessiveness that surges through me at those words is immediate and fierce.
"She's not hurt," I tell him. "The crash wasn't bad, just got stuck in the snow."
"Lucky thing she found your place." Cal's studying me with those sharp eyes of his. “I found the van on a routine drive and called the bakery. Lottie has been worried sick."
Guilt twists in my gut. While I was falling for Ivy, people in town were worrying about her. Because of me. I should have called someone to let her know she was ok.
"We should get her back to town," I say, stepping away from where Ivy's being examined.
But Ivy's having none of it. She finishes with the paramedic and marches straight over to me, ignoring the audience we have.
"Don't you dare," she says, poking me in the chest. "Don't you dare use their concern as an excuse to push me away."
"Ivy," I warn, aware of all the eyes on us.
"No. I meant what I said in there." Her voice carries across the snowy yard, and I see Lottie and Cal exchange glances.
"I love you, and I'm not going anywhere.
So you can either come down to town with me and let me show you what it's like to be part of something bigger than your own pain, or you can stay up here and spend the rest of your life wondering what if. "
The silence that follows is deafening. Everyone's staring at us—Cal, Lottie, the paramedics. Waiting to see what the hermit will do.
"You don't know what you're asking," I tell her quietly.
"I'm asking you to trust me. I'm asking you to believe that you deserve to be loved." Her eyes are bright with unshed tears, but her voice is steady. "I'm asking you to come home with me."
Home. I haven't had a home in three years. Haven't had a family or friends or anyone who gave a damn whether I lived or died.
But looking at Ivy, at her fierce expression and unwavering faith in me, I realize she's offering me all of that and more.
"What if I disappoint you?" I ask.
"What if you don't?"
Cal clears his throat. "For what it's worth, Colt, we could use you down in town. If you ever feel like trying again. Your SAR experience in Alberta. We've had a few situations where your expertise would've been valuable."
The offer surprises me. I've been avoiding Silver Ridge for three years, assuming they wouldn't want a man with my track record anywhere near their emergencies.
"Think about it," Cal continues. "You don't have to decide today. But the offer's there."
They're offering me a way back. Not just Ivy, but the whole community. A chance to use my skills again, to help people instead of hiding from the guilt of those I couldn't save.
"Ivy," I say, voice rough with emotion.
"Yes?"
"If I come with you... if I try this... I need you to know it won't be easy. I have nightmares. Sometimes I think I don't deserve to be saved."
She steps closer, hand over my heart, and I can feel the warmth of her palm through my shirt. "Lucky for you, I'm very good at saving people. Especially stubborn mountain men who think they're beyond redemption."
Her touch, her words, the absolute certainty in her voice—it all combines to break down the last of my walls.
When she pulls back, I see my future reflected in her warm brown eyes. Not just survival, but living. Not just existing, but being part of something bigger. Being loved.
"Okay," I say, and the word feels like jumping off a cliff. "Let's go home."
Her smile could power the entire mountain.
Before anyone can react, I frame her face in my hands and kiss her—right there in front of God, the rescue team, and half of Silver Ridge. It's a claiming kiss, a promise, a declaration that she's mine and I'm hers.
When we break apart, she's breathless and flushed, and there's no mistaking what we mean to each other.
"Well," Cal says dryly, "I guess that settles that."