Page 33 of Daddy of the Mountain

When it hit, it was earth-shattering. I clung to him as wave after wave crashed over me, his name falling from my lips like a prayer. He followed soon after, burying his face in my neck as he pulsed inside me.

Afterward, we lay entwined, our breaths mingling in the cold air. Silas brushed a lock of hair from my face, his eyes soft yet guarded. I could see the pride in his gaze, the satisfaction at how far I'd come, how I'd learned to trust and let go.

The sky was pure blue. My heart was raw.

Was I really going to leave all this?

Chapter 8

Ihad nothing to pack.

Silas had let me with a suitcase while he did some jobs outside, but there was nothing to put in it. My clothes were back in Snowview. All I had now was this empty bag and the sweater on my back—his sweater, really. It still smelled like pine and smoke, faint and comforting, like his arms around me last night.

I sat on the edge of the bed, twisting the edge of the sleeve between my fingers. My chest felt tight, not from fear, but something deeper. Something heavier. The kind of ache that didn’t go away with a bandage or time.

Last night kept playing in my head. Every glance, every touch, every whispered word. Silas had held me like I was something precious, guiding me through the storm in my mind with those strong hands and steady eyes. He’d been firm when I needed it, soft when I didn’t know I did. And then there was the way we’d come together under that endless sky—raw, unguarded, honest. It wasn’t just about passion. It was about trust. About letting go and finding myself again, piece by broken piece.

I swallowed hard, staring at the empty suitcase. The line between who I was when I came up here and who I was now felt so sharp it almost hurt. That anxious, overworked woman who couldn’t sit still long enough to breathe? She seemed like someone else entirely. Someone I didn’t want to be again.

Today was going to test that.

"Back to the real world," I muttered, voice hollow. But was it? Was the city really my world anymore? I thought about the emails waiting in my inbox, the deadlines, the noise of it all. Everything that used to feel so important seemed . . . distant. Faded. Like a bad photograph.

"Dammit," I breathed out, dragging both hands down my face. The air in the cabin felt heavy, thick with everything unsaid. My feet stayed planted on the floorboards even as my heartbeat picked up, begging me to move, to do something, anything. But what? What the hell was I supposed to do with this feeling? With him?

I stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the wood. The sound jarred me, grounding me for a second. “You’re going back,” I told myself, the words coming out flat. “That’s the plan.”

But plans didn’t seem to matter much anymore. Not after him.

My chest tightened as I thought about Silas. His arms around me last night, strong and steady, his voice low and firm when he asked me to trust him. The way he carried me, not just physically but emotionally, wrapping me in a safety I didn’t know I craved. That’s what I’d be walking away from if I went back. Not just him, but the version of myself I’d found up here.

"Ally," I whispered to myself, my reflection faint in the glass. "What are you doing?"

The question hung in the air, unanswered, until soft footsteps creaked on the porch outside.

I turned, heart thudding hard against my ribs. Silas filled the doorway like he always did, broad shoulders brushing the frame,his dark eyes locking onto mine. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there looking at me, the kind of look that made me feel stripped bare and seen all at once.

"So. Got everything you need?" His voice was calm, same as always. No pleading, no cracks in his tone.

"Yeah," I lied, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.

"Good." He tilted his head slightly toward the trail, his expression unreadable. "You ready to head down the mountain?"

Just an offer. A simple question. Like he wasn’t asking me to leave more than just this cabin behind.

My throat tightened, but I nodded anyway. "Yeah. I guess so." For a moment, I thought he might say something else—something that would make this easier or harder, I didn’t know which. But he just stepped aside, waiting for me to follow.

And damn it, I wanted so badly to close the distance between us, to press myself against him and beg him to tell me I didn’t have to go. But that wasn’t who he was. Silas wasn’t going to ask me to stay.

That choice was mine.

The air hit sharp and cold as we stepped outside. I pulled my sweater tighter around myself, silencing the urge to ask if we could linger just a little longer. Silas was already moving, his boots crunching over the packed snow with that effortless confidence of his. I followed, my own steps lighter now than they’d been the first time I’d walked this path.

"That there," he said after a while, pointing toward a faint scattering of marks in the snow off the side of the trail, "rabbit tracks. Probably from last night."

"How can you tell?" I asked, not because I particularly cared about rabbit tracks, but because hearing his voice made the knot in my chest loosen, just a little.

"Snow’s still clean around ‘em," he said, glancing back at me. His expression softened, like he’d caught something in my voice. "Fresh enough to follow, if you wanted."

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