Page 15 of My Forbidden Mountain Man

“You’re amazing,” he repeats, more firmly. Like there’s no room for any other word to describe me, he says it in a way like he means it, not because it’s something I want to hear.

I’m not used to that.

“You should see me when I’m on stage. That’s where I perform best.” Murmuring the words, I’m surprised by the chuckle that radiates out of him.

“I have. Before you stopped sending me tickets, I used to try to attend the shows I could. Sure, I couldn’t go all the way across the country, but I have been to a handful of them. The ones I couldn’t, I watched recordings.” He drops the information with ease.

I’m jerking toward him, my eyes wide. “Wait, seriously?”

I remember clearly how disappointed I felt that neither of them ever came to see me. The lack of my mother didn’t surprise me, but Logan… he’s always been supportive. I assumed it was by words alone.

“All those tickets included the VIP pass. Why didn’t you come see me?” I don’t mean to sound hurt, but if I had seen either of them, then maybe I could’ve seen the signs of the downfall of their relationship. Could’ve been prepared to see what kind of man Logan had become.

Maybe I wouldn’t be struggling as much as I have been lately.

Clicking his tongue, he rocks in his chair. “Didn’t want to get in the way, I guess. Figured you should at least have someone in your corner at minimum.”

Moving to stand, he approaches and offers his hand. Still smelling like sweat from his stroll, the flutters come back once I’m back to breathing him in.

Telling myself that I shouldn’t touch him, I can’t deny how welcoming his hand looks. So, against my better judgment, I take his hand and let him lift me to my feet with ease.

Packing my guitar back up takes no time before he’s insisting on showing me something. Once I’m leaving the case at the front entrance, he’s guiding me up with my hand in his. It turns out that this cabin has an attic.

“Careful where you step. I don’t come up here too often.” Only releasing my hand once he pulls me toward a row of totes, he kneels. “Best place for storage.”

Curious to see what he’s hiding inside each, I watch as he shifts through a few of them before finding what he’s looking for.

“I’ll be honest, I never wore any of them, but I still wanted to show my support the best way I could.” He’s unfolding the shirts in his grip as he explains himself.

They’re band shirts. My shirts. The ones we sold at merch stands during our smaller shows before we hit it big.

“You really did come.” The words leave me in a way air leaves a balloon.

I take in the designs, a poor attempt at designs Jeremy, Trent, and I drew up until we met Noah. At that point, he hired graphic designers. But this piece of his? Shirts I don’t even own anymore, makes the knot in my chest grow tight enough that breathing feels impossible.

“Of course. I cared, Violet. Now look at you. You followed your dream. I want you to do what you want to.” His mouth curves into a small smile, and the view is enough to make my head swim.

My dream was to play the guitar for those who needed music, just as I did. I didn’t care if I was performing for ten people or a thousand. There’ve been nights where every ticket was bought, but that never made a difference.

Logan cares more than I thought he did. But now the question ofwhysettles deep in my gut. Is it because he was trying to support his wife’s kid, or could there be more to it?

I know I shouldn’t want him to want me, but I do.

“I’m not sure what I want, not yet.” Taking one of the shirts from him, I sigh softly. “You know, my manager wants me to come back. To return to all the chaos and probably place this as a small bump in the road.”

Logan doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t need to. Despite his earlier words, his smile is gone. The way his jaw flexes, it’s like he wants to say something, but can’t. Or, rather, refuses to.

He wants me to follow my dream, sure, I get that. But he wants something else, too, doesn’t he?

“I don’t know what I want to do.” I repeat as the truth rolls out of me in a sigh.

I really don’t care about fame and fortune. Sure, the last few years of my life have been more than fun, but it’s also been exhausting in every sense.

Fairland might be this quaint little town, but it’s quiet and peaceful in ways I haven’t known in years. Like a breath of fresh air, I’m addicted. The silence I soaked up earlier can’t be found while travelling from city to city.

“If I don’t go back, what other choice do I have? I wasn’t smart, and I didn’t save up money. Perhaps I can persuade my manager to give me something here to avoid dealing with a bad break, but I feel like I don’t have any options. I can’t just keep leaning on you for support. Not when—”

All this time, Logan’s given me space—too much space. The kind that left me aching, wondering if he’d ever close the distance between us. But now, his hands find my face, rough palms cradling my jaw like I’m something fragile, something precious. And just like that, the knot in my chest unravels.

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