Chapter 18 #3
It was a mountain house pretending to be rustic while clearly costing more than some small athletic facilities. Big windows. Stone chimney. Snow on the roof. Warm light spilling across the driveway. Voices inside. Laughter. Family.
My stomach dropped.
I turned to Hannah. “Is everyone here?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Great.”
She grinned. “Nervous?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Means it matters.”
I got out before I could change my mind.
The front door opened before I reached it.
Jace stood there in sweatpants and a puffer vest, holding a mug that said ‘WORLD’S OKAYEST SON.’
His eyes widened when he saw me.
Then his mouth curved.
“Well, damn,” he said. “Texas came to the snow.”
“Where is he?”
Jace nodded toward the back of the house.
“Deck. He’s pretending to chop wood.”
“Pretending?”
“Mostly staring at a log like it owes him an apology.”
I hugged my coat tighter.
“Does he know I’m here?”
“Nope.”
“Is he going to hate you?”
“Probably.” Jace stepped aside. “Worth it.”
Inside, the house went suspiciously quiet.
Too quiet.
A woman’s voice whispered, “Is that her?”
Another voice, male, whispered, “Oh, this is about to get good.”
Jace turned his head. “No one be weird.”
A chorus of extremely unconvincing denials answered him.
I looked at him.
He winced. “My family has boundary issues.”
“Apparently that’s a theme this holiday season.”
He laughed. Then sobered. “You sure?”
No.
Absolutely not.
“Yes.”
He pointed down a hallway. “Through the kitchen. Back door. And Texas?”
I looked back.
“Don’t let him act too cool. He’s been checking his phone every six minutes.”
That nearly undid me.
I nodded once and walked through the house.
The kitchen smelled like cinnamon, coffee, and something baking.
People pretended not to watch me from the living room.
I saw a gray-haired woman with kind eyes, two teenage boys in ski socks, a man holding a plate of cookies midair, and Hannah already whispering something to another woman near the island.
Subtle, this family was not.
The back door creaked when I opened it.
Cold rushed in.
Drew stood on the deck with his back to me.
Black hoodie. Gray beanie. Broad shoulders hunched slightly against the cold. Axe in one hand. A log on the block in front of him, untouched.
Jace had not exaggerated.
He was staring at it like it had personally disappointed him.
Snow fell lightly around him, catching in the dark fabric of his hoodie. Beyond the deck, the mountains stretched huge and silent, everything white and blue and pine-dark.
For one second, I couldn’t move.
Because I had missed him so much it hurt physically.
“Drew,” I said.
His whole body went still.
Slowly, he turned.
His face changed.
Shock first.
Then pain.
Then nothing.
He set the axe down carefully against the railing.
Carefully.
Like if he moved too fast, the whole world might crack.
“What are you doing here?”
Not angry.
That would have been easier.
He sounded tired.
Guarded.
Like he had spent every hour since he left convincing himself I wouldn’t come, and my standing there in the snow was an inconvenience to all his hard work.
I stepped onto the deck.
Cold bit straight through my boots.
“I came to talk to you.”
“You could’ve called.”
“You wouldn’t have answered.”
His jaw flexed.
No denial there.
Snow drifted between us, tiny white pieces melting against his shoulders, my hair, the railing. Behind me, through the big kitchen windows, I could feel Jace’s family pretending they were not watching.
They were absolutely watching.
Drew’s eyes flicked over my shoulder.
Then back to me.
“Jace gave you the address?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
“He said you might.”
“I’m serious.”
“So was he.”
Drew looked away, laughing once without humor.
“Great. You flew to Colorado.”
“Yes.”
“In the snow.”
“Yes.”
“You hate cold.”
“I’m developing character.”
His mouth twitched.
Barely.
Then he smothered it.
“No,” I said, stepping closer. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Hide from me behind almost smiling.”
His face closed again.
“Funny.”
“It’s not.”
“No, it’s funny because hiding is kind of your thing.”
“You’re right.”
His eyes came back to mine.
I forced myself not to look away.
“You were right,” I said. “About my mother. About the way I froze. About the way I was trained. About the way silence can still choose a side.”
Drew swallowed.
Barely.
But I saw it.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
His jaw tightened.
“You said that.”
“I know. I’m saying it again because I mean it more now.”
He stared at me, snow melting on his lashes, looking like the most beautiful, stubborn, impossible man I had ever seen.
God, I loved him.
The truth rose in my chest, huge and terrifying.
Not elegant.
Not polished.
Not something I could control with a pretty smile.
Just truth.
“I confronted her,” I said.
His brows pulled together.
“My mother. After you left.” My voice shook once. I steadied it. “I told her you weren’t a prize. You weren’t a Montgomery upgrade. You weren’t a better trophy than Tristan Vale. I told her you were Drew. And that I loved you.”
Drew went still.
So still the whole mountain seemed to hold its breath with him.
Inside the house, someone gasped.
Drew’s eyes cut toward the window.
Mine did too.
Three faces vanished badly from behind the kitchen glass.
Jace’s voice came faintly through the door.
“Subtle, Mom. Real subtle.”
I turned back to Drew, cheeks burning.
“Are they watching?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful.”
Drew’s mouth almost moved again.
I pressed on before I lost my nerve.
“I love you,” I said.
His face changed.
Not softening.
Breaking.
Just a little.
“No,” he said quietly.
My heart stuttered.
“No?”
“No.” His voice roughened. “You don’t get to fly into the snow and say it now because I left.”
“I’m not saying it because you left.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
He stepped closer. “Because you had a lot of time, Isa.”
“I know.”
“I handed you the word in the airport. Twice.”
“I know.”
“I whispered it into your hair in Miami.”
“I heard you.”
His face twisted.
“Yeah. You told me that part.”
“I was scared.”
“I know.”
“No, Drew.” I stepped closer too, because if he was going to break me, he could do it looking at my whole face. “You know I was scared. You don’t know why.”
His eyes stayed on mine.
I drew a breath so cold it hurt.
“Tristan was safe.”
Drew flinched like I’d slapped him.
I shook my head fast.
“No. Listen to me. Please. Tristan was safe because he was never really mine. He was a fantasy. A crown. A stupid, shiny proof that I was the kind of girl who could be chosen by the boy everyone wanted. Losing him hurt my pride. It humiliated me. It made me feel second place.” My voice cracked.
“But he did not have my heart. Not the real one.”
Drew’s throat moved.
I kept going.
“You did.”
The words came out smaller than I wanted.
Truer than I could survive.
“You had it before I knew what to call it. When you brought me coffee. When you carried my bag and pretended it was because I was incompetent. When you fed me noodles and took care of my leg and made me laugh when I was so tired of being looked at like damage.” I pressed a hand to my chest. “You found the part of me I didn’t perform with. And that terrified me.”
His eyes shone now.
But he didn’t move.
“You could break my heart, Drew.”
The words shook.
So did I.
Snow fell around us, quiet and relentless.
“No one has ever had the power to do that before. Not really. Not Vale. Not my mother. Not the gossip pages—you.” I swallowed hard.
“And I know that sounds backwards. I know I should have been brave with the man who deserved it and careful with the one who didn’t.
But I got it wrong. I was willing to hand almost everything to Tristan because there wasn’t much to lose. With you, there was everything.”
Drew looked down.
His hands flexed at his sides.
“I don’t know how to trust that,” he said.
“I know.”
His eyes lifted again, sharper now. “Do you? Because my whole life, people have wanted pieces of what I came with. Richard’s name. Richard’s money. Football. My body. The way I look beside them in a room.” His voice cracked once, and he hated it. I saw him hate it. “I thought you were different.”
“I am.”
“I thought you saw me.”
“I do.”
“Then why did you let her say it?”
Pain cut through me.
Clean.
Fair.
“Because I froze,” I said. “Because I was a coward. Because some part of me still hears my mother’s voice and turns into a little girl trying not to get corrected.” I wiped one tear fast, angry at it. “But I’m done being trained.”
Drew stared at me.
“I’m done,” I said again. “I’m done letting her call ambition love. I’m done letting her call status safety. I’m done pretending I don’t want you because wanting you gives you the power to hurt me.”
The back door creaked.
I turned.
Jace stood there, half-hidden by the doorframe.
Behind him, at least five relatives hovered in a badly arranged stack.
“Damn,” Jace said. “We’re recording all of this.”
My eyes went wide. “What?”
Drew’s head snapped toward him. “Jace.”
Jace lifted both hands, one of which held a phone.
“Have you no dignity?” I demanded.
“Trust me,” Jace said. “You’re gonna want to show this to your kids someday.”
“Our kids?” I squeaked.
Someone behind him whispered, “Get me some popcorn. This shit’s getting good.”
My mouth fell open.
“My love life is not a reality TV show.”
A teenage boy in a ski hoodie leaned into view. “No, dude, this is much better.”
Another one said, “Bro, I can’t wait to tell the boys about Texas and the snow.”
Drew pointed at the door. “Inside.”
Jace looked at him. “You sure? Because she’s kind of crushing this.”
“Inside.”
Jace sighed dramatically and started backing up. “Fine. But for the record, this family supports grand gestures.”
A woman’s voice called, “We support love!”
“Mom,” Jace groaned.
The door shut.
For three whole seconds, Drew and I just stared at it.
Then, despite everything, I laughed.
A broken, wet, ridiculous laugh that burst out of me in the freezing air.
Drew tried not to.
Failed.
The laugh changed his whole face.
I reached into my coat pocket with shaking fingers.
His smile faded when he saw the small box.
“Isa.”