Page 26 of Mountain Man Wanted
Tears burned my eyes. I set down my coffee and threw my arms around him. “I can’t believe you did all this.”
“You shouldn’t be surprised. You taught me how to fight for what matters.”
“And this matters?” I whispered.
He nodded, solemn. “You matter.”
We stayed like that until our coffee went cold. Until the snow began to fall again and Bear barked at a rabbit and the sun started to dip low enough to turn the sky pink.
Finally, I stood and looked back at the trailhead.
“Ready to head back?” he asked.
“Not yet. One more thing.” I dug into my own pocket, pulling out a tiny spiral notebook.
He frowned. “What’s that?”
“My next article.” I flipped it open. “I want to call it What the Mountain Man Taught Me.”
He gave a rough laugh, eyes shining. “Sounds like a good one.”
“It’s got a hell of a happy ending.”
“Yeah.” He reached for my hand. “I’m sure it does. Come on, sweetpea. Let’s go home.”
He tucked me into his side, and we started down the trail together. The snow crunched under our boots, and Bear raced ahead, checking out his domain like he owned the whole forest.
The ridge behind us faded from view, the waterfall’s hush becoming background music for the next part of our story. And I knew, with the steady weight of the ring on my finger, the warm squeeze of his hand in mine, and the whole damn town waiting to welcome us back, Thatcher wasn’t a ghost anymore. Just my mountain man, leading me home.
