7. Sophie
Maple Peak Diner went suddenly quiet when Sophie Lane walked in wearing a mountain man’s oversized coat, borrowed sweatpants, wool socks, and the expression of a woman whose dignity had recently been dragged behind a tow truck with a bridal veil attached.
Not completely quiet.
The coffee machine hissed.
A spoon clinked against a mug.
Someone near the back whispered, “Is that her?”
Sophie paused just inside the door.
Warmth wrapped around her. So did the smell of coffee, bacon, and fresh pie.
Honestly, if public humiliation had to happen somewhere, a diner with pie seemed like a reasonable venue.
The woman behind the counter looked up.
She had silver-streaked hair, sharp eyes, and the kind of face that suggested she had seen every variety of bad decision and served pancakes through all of them.
“You hungry, honey?”
Sophie blinked.
Not, Are you the runaway bride?
Not, What happened?
Not, Why are you wearing a man’s coat and pants big enough to house a family of four?
Just hungry.
Her throat tightened.
“A little.”
The woman nodded toward a booth by the window.
“Sit. Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
“Pie?”
Sophie hesitated.
“It’s ten in the morning.”
The woman gave her a look.
“So?”
Sophie slid into the booth.
“Pie sounds wonderful.”
A few conversations resumed around her, though she still felt curious glances landing on her. Sophie took off Jace’s coat and folded it beside her. The flannel sleeves slipped over her hands, and she tugged them down like armor.
Her phone sat in her pocket, charged enough to destroy her life.
She placed the villainous thing on the table.
Stared at it.
The diner woman appeared with coffee and a slice of apple pie.
“I’m Mabel.”
“Sophie.”
Mabel’s eyes softened.
“I know.”
Sophie winced.
“Is it very bad?”
“The video?”
Sophie dropped her forehead to the table.
“Oh God.”
Mabel set the pie down.
“Your left side looked fine.”
Sophie lifted her head.
Mabel winked.
Despite everything, Sophie laughed.
It came out shaky, but real.
“Thank you. That was my main concern.”
“Figured.”
Mabel poured coffee into her mug.
“For what it’s worth, running from the wrong man isn’t the worst thing a woman can do.”
Sophie wrapped both hands around the mug.
“What is?”
“Marrying him.”
The words hit so cleanly that Sophie had no answer.
Mabel gave the table a gentle tap.
“Eat your pie. Then call whoever needs calling.”
She left before Sophie could cry in front of her.
Sophie took one bite of pie and nearly moaned.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Maple Peak understands crisis management.”
Her phone buzzed.
Preston.
Sophie’s stomach tightened.
For one second, she imagined Jace sitting across from her, calm and solid.
You don’t have to answer.
But she did.
Not because Preston deserved it.
Because she deserved to say the words out loud.
She picked up the phone and stepped outside the diner into the cold.
Snow crunched under her borrowed socks inside Jace’s boots, which Mabel had apparently loaned her from the lost-and-found box because “no woman should face emotional warfare with cold feet.”
Sophie answered.
“Preston.”
A sharp exhale came through the line.
“Sophie. Finally.”
His voice was controlled.
Too controlled.
The same voice he used when a waiter brought the wrong wine or Sophie laughed too loudly at dinner.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Safe.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“It’s the answer you’re getting.”
Silence.
Then, “You need to come back.”
“No.”
The word surprised her.
Not because she didn’t mean it.
Because it came easily.
Preston’s voice cooled.
“Sophie, I understand you’re embarrassed.”
She almost laughed.
“I’m not embarrassed because I left. I’m embarrassed it took me so long.”
“That’s emotional. You’re not thinking clearly.”
There it was.
The old trap.
Her feelings as evidence against her.
Sophie looked across the snowy street toward the mountains rising beyond town.
For once, she did not shrink.
“I am thinking clearly,” she said. “That’s why I’m not marrying you.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“No. I was about to make one.”
His silence sharpened.
“You humiliated me.”
Sophie closed her eyes briefly.
Not, You scared me.
Not, Are you okay?
Humiliated.
“I’m sorry for the public part,” she said honestly. “I should have ended it sooner. But I’m not sorry I ended it.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“No. Preston, what’s ridiculous is that you have not asked me once if I’m safe.”
Another silence.
She could almost hear him searching for the correct response.
Too late.
Sophie’s voice steadied.
“I’m done being corrected into someone easier to approve of. I’m done confusing your preferences with my personality. I’m done making myself smaller so you can call it compatibility.”
“Sophie—”
“I’m not coming back.”
The words landed like a door shutting.
Her hand trembled, but her spine did not.
“I’ll arrange for someone to pick up my things. Please don’t call me again.”
She ended the call before he could answer.
For several seconds, she stood outside the diner breathing cold mountain air.
Then she laughed.
A tiny, stunned laugh.
“Oh my God.”
She had done it.
Not run.
Chosen.
Her phone buzzed again almost immediately.
Mother.
Sophie considered ignoring it.
Then she answered.
“Mom.”
“Sophie Elaine Lane.”
“Starting with the full name seems aggressive.”
“Do not joke right now.”
Sophie leaned against the diner wall and looked up at the sky.
“Okay.”
Her mother inhaled sharply.
“What happened?”
So many things.
A snowbank.
A duck boot.
A mountain man with kind hands.
A kiss that made her feel like herself.
A cabin where no one told her who to be.
But underneath all of that was the simplest truth.
“I didn’t love him.”
Her mother went quiet.
Sophie continued before she could lose courage.
“I wanted to. I tried to. I wanted to be the kind of woman who could walk down that aisle because everyone said it made sense.”
“Oh, Sophie.”
“No, please let me finish.” Her voice shook now, but she kept going. “I know this is embarrassing. I know everyone will talk. I know this is the second time, and Aunt Diane is probably lighting prayer candles for my decision-making skills.”
Despite herself, her mother made a small sound.
Possibly a laugh.
Possibly a sob.
“But I would rather be talked about for running than praised for marrying the wrong man.”
The line went very quiet.
Then her mother sighed.
A long, tired, motherly sigh that carried years of expectations neither of them had ever unpacked.
“I was scared for you,” she said softly.
Sophie closed her eyes.
“I know.”
“And angry.”
“I know.”
“And yes, your Aunt Diane has already called twice.”
Sophie laughed through sudden tears.
“Of course she has.”
“But if you’re safe…” Her mother’s voice broke slightly. “Are you safe?”
Sophie looked toward the mountain road.
Toward the direction of Jace’s cabin.
“Yes.”
The answer meant more than location.
“I’m safe.”
“Then we’ll deal with the rest.”
Something inside Sophie loosened.
Not fixed.
Not simple.
But loosened.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I still want a full explanation.”
“I know.”
“And possibly therapy for the photographer.”
“That seems fair.”
“And Sophie?”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad you didn’t marry a man you had to run from.”
Sophie cried then.
Just a little.
Enough.
By the time she went back inside, the whole diner pretended not to notice.
Mabel slid another napkin toward her anyway.
Sophie sat, ate three more bites of pie, and sent Becca a text.
Sophie: Wedding officially off. I’m okay. Your boot is alive. I may have found a town that prescribes pie for emotional recovery.
Becca replied instantly.
Becca: Stay there. Sounds medically advanced.
Sophie smiled.
Then the diner door opened.
Cold air swept in.
Jace Wilder stepped inside.
Everything in Sophie went still.
He looked exactly as he had when she first saw him in the snow: broad, quiet, rugged, and steady enough to make the whole room feel less tilted.
But his expression was different now.
Not careful.
Not distant.
Determined.
His eyes found hers immediately.
The conversations around them dipped again, because apparently Maple Peak Diner had excellent emotional radar.
Jace crossed to her booth.
Sophie’s heart pounded.
He stopped beside the table.
“Mabel,” he said without looking away from Sophie, “can I borrow the back room?”
Mabel’s voice came from behind the counter.
“For apologizing or proposing?”
Sophie’s eyes widened.
Jace’s jaw tightened.
“Talking.”
Mabel sighed.
“Shame. Back room’s open.”
Sophie stared at him.
Jace held out his hand.
“Please.”
That single word did more damage than any speech could have.
Sophie took his hand.
The diner did a terrible job pretending not to watch as Jace led her through a narrow hallway into a small storage room stacked with extra chairs, paper goods, and a freezer humming in the corner.
The moment the door closed, Sophie folded her arms.
“If you brought me back here to be nobly respectful to me again, I need to warn you I am full of pie and emotionally armed.”
Jace’s mouth almost curved.
Then he sobered.
“I was wrong.”
Sophie blinked.
That was not where she expected him to start.
He stepped closer, then stopped, leaving space between them.
Good.
Infuriating, but good.
“I thought giving you room meant keeping what I wanted out of it.”
Her throat tightened.
“And what did you want?”
His eyes held hers.
“You.”
The word hit straight through her.
No hesitation.
No softness around the edges.
Just truth.
“I wanted you in my cabin,” he said. “In my clothes. At my table. In my bed. I wanted you laughing at my rules and arguing with your bouquet and making my quiet life impossible.”
Sophie’s breath caught.
Jace dragged a hand over his jaw.
“But you had just run from a man who wanted to decide your life. I wasn’t going to be another one.”
“You weren’t.”
“I know that now.” His voice roughened. “But I let my fear dress itself up as respect.”
Sophie’s eyes stung.
“That seems to be going around with mountain men.”
His brow lifted slightly.
“Yeah?”
“It’s probably something in the pine trees.”
That almost-smile came.
Brief.
Beautiful.
Then Jace took one step closer.
“I should have told you the truth before you walked into the diner.”
“What truth?”
“That I love you.”
Sophie forgot how to breathe.
Jace looked as stunned by the words as she felt.
But he did not take them back.
“I know it’s fast,” he said. “I know your life is a mess right now. I know there are a hundred reasons this sounds insane.”
“Two runaway weddings,” she whispered.
“One snowbank.”
“One duck boot.”
“Haunted dress.”
“Very haunted.”
His mouth softened.
“But I love you, Sophie Lane. Not because you’re easy. Not because you arrived at the right time. You arrived at the worst possible time.”
A laugh broke through her tears.
Jace stepped close enough now to touch her cheek.
“But you walked into my cabin and made it feel like home before your dress even dried.”
Her tears spilled over.
“You love me?”
“Yeah.”
“Even though I’m apparently very good at running from weddings?”
His thumb brushed beneath her eye.
“Good.”
She let out a wet laugh.
“Good?”
“Means when you walk toward one, I’ll know you mean it.”
That ruined her completely.
Sophie stepped into him, and Jace caught her like he had been waiting to breathe until she did.
“I love you too,” she whispered into his chest.
His arms tightened.
“You sure?”
She lifted her head and gave him a tearful smile.
“Jace Wilder, I have been unsure about many things. Seating charts. Fondant. Men named Preston. But not you.”
A rough sound left him.
Then he kissed her.
The kiss was deep and desperate and full of everything they had failed to say in the truck. Sophie wrapped her arms around his neck, rising onto her toes, and Jace held her so close her feet nearly left the floor.
A knock sounded on the door.
Mabel called, “Everything decent in there?”
Sophie broke the kiss with a laugh against Jace’s mouth.
Jace rested his forehead against hers.
“No.”
“Jace,” Sophie hissed.
Mabel cackled from the other side of the door.
“Good for her.”
Sophie buried her face in his chest, laughing so hard she cried again.
Jace’s chest moved beneath her, and she realized he was laughing too.
Really laughing.
For a few seconds, all the broken pieces of the last twenty-four hours rearranged themselves into something bright and ridiculous and whole.
When they finally stepped back into the diner, everyone looked away badly.
Sophie lifted her chin.
“Good pie,” she announced.
Someone near the back applauded once before being shushed.
Jace took her hand and did not let go.
They walked out of the diner together into the snowy afternoon.
This time, Sophie did not feel like she was running.
She felt like she was going back.
Back to the cabin.
Back to the flowers in the mason jar.
Back to the man who had not made her feel trapped.
He had made her feel free.
At his truck, Jace opened the passenger door but did not help her in right away.
Instead, he turned toward her.
“What do you want now?”
The question settled softly between them.
Not what should happen.
Not what will people think.
Not what do I want you to choose.
What do you want?
Sophie smiled.
“I want my car fixed eventually.”
“Done.”
“I want my friend’s duck boot returned with honors.”
“Reasonable.”
“I want to retrieve my wedding dress from your closet before it forms an alliance with the phone.”
“Smart.”
“And then…” She stepped closer, sliding her hands up his chest. “I want to go home.”
Jace went still.
His voice dropped.
“Where’s that?”
Sophie looked toward the mountain road, then back at him.
“With you.”
His eyes darkened with emotion.
“Sophie.”
“I ran from the wrong life,” she whispered. “I’m staying for the right one.”
Jace pulled her into his arms right there on the sidewalk.
Snow drifted around them.
Somewhere inside the diner, Mabel probably watched through the window.
Sophie did not care.
For once in her life, she did not care who saw her choose.
She had run from two weddings.
But she was done running from forever.
And when Jace kissed her beneath the snowy Maple Peak sky, Sophie knew she had finally found the man worth staying for.
***