Page 31 of Wild Heart

Natalie stood beside the fire, a wool blanket draped over her shoulders. The glow lit her face, warming the angles of her jaw, the curve of her cheek. Around her, laughter and soft conversation rose and fell in waves. A few of the volunteers toasted marshmallows, the younger ones huddled in thick jackets. Despite the threat of opposition, there was a pulse of togetherness that throbbed gently under the night. It was the kind of moment you didn’t realize you were yearning for until you were wrapped in the middle of it.

Mason arrived carrying two steaming mugs, offering one to Natalie. "Apple cider. Hot and spiced. James has hidden talents."

Natalie accepted it with a small smile. "It smells amazing. I didn’t even know we had cloves."

"Apparently Luanne’s been hoarding them. For emergencies only."

They both chuckled, the tension of the week momentarily eased by the simple joy of shared warmth and firelight.

"This," Natalie said softly, gesturing to the group huddled around the fire, "this feels like home."

Mason looked at her, really looked at her, the firelight dancing in his eyes. "That’s because it is. For all of us."

Near the center of the circle, Olivia sat in a low chair, her brace still visible but her posture stronger than it had been in weeks. A cane rested beside her, though she hadn’t used it all evening. She wore a heavy knit shawl wrapped around her shoulders, her hair braided down her back. There was a contentment in her face that Natalie hadn’t seen in weeks. Davey sat cross-legged at her feet, a guitar resting on his lap that someone had coaxed him into playing earlier. Now, he simply strummed quietly, plucking out a melody Natalie didn’t recognize but found deeply comforting.

Davey’s fingers weren’t as relaxed as they looked. His eyes, though trained on the guitar, flicked occasionally toward his mother, as if measuring the timing of a conversation he wasn’t sure he was ready to have.

Earlier that day, he’d stood alone behind the barn, staring at the edge of the woods, where the shadows met the treetops. He had questions. Questions he’d buried for years. About the man whose absence had shaped most of his life. About the silences that filled his mother’s expression when he asked about the past. He didn’t want to upset her. Not now, not after everything she’d been through. But tonight, as Olivia sat laughing quietly with the others, her smile relaxed, her voice light, Davey couldn’t shake the ache under his ribs.

He wanted to know more about his father. Not just the simple truths she’d told him when he was younger, that he’d left when things got hard, but who he really was. Why he hadn’t stayed. Why he hadn’t written. Why Davey still felt like a shadow half-shaped by someone who’d walked away.

He watched Olivia now, her face lit by firelight, and his jaw tightened slightly. He loved her, fiercely. But part of him resented the silence. He didn’t need a fairy tale. He just wanted the truth. And yet, tonight didn’t feel like the moment. It felt too full of joy, of warmth, of something sacred. So instead, he kept playing.

Laughter echoed again. Someone telling a story, others nodding in time with the rhythm of shared history and trust. For a moment, Natalie allowed herself to exhale completely. She closed her eyes and soaked it in. The crackle of wood, the warmth of Mason’s presence beside her, the soft hum of Davey’s music, the murmur of belonging. Her heart beat in sync with the sanctuary’s rhythm.

Olivia suddenly tapped her mug, attracting everyone’s attention. "Thank you all for being here tonight," she said, her voice rising above the gentle conversation. The group quieted as she spoke. "After the last few days, I needed this. We all did. And it reminded me of something I think we forget too easily, just how much we’ve already built together."

She paused, glancing around the circle. Faces turned toward her, flickering with firelight. Some eyes were tired, others wary. But all were attentive.

"We’ve been tested," she continued. "More than once. We’ve had injuries, threats, accusations. We’ve had moments where it felt like everything might fall apart. But here we are, stronger,more united than ever. Because we chose to stay. We chose each other."

She paused, her gaze settling on Natalie and Mason.

"And I’ve watched two people in particular remind us why we started this in the first place. Natalie, your passion, your honesty, and your endless heart have breathed something new into this sanctuary. You didn’t just show up. You rooted yourself here. You cared, deeply, and loudly, even when it was hard."

Natalie looked down, humbled, her throat tightening.

"And Mason..."

Olivia turned slightly. Mason was still, visibly surprised, his mug halfway to his lips.

"You’re the roots beneath us. You’re quiet, yes, but never absent. You’ve steadied us when we’ve been shaking. You’ve taken on more than anyone has asked without complaint. We see you. And more importantly, we’re stronger because of you."

Mason lowered his mug slowly, his eyes flicking to Natalie, then back to Olivia. The fire caught the edges of his expression, stoic but moved. He cleared his throat. "I’m not much for speeches. But... thank you."

A few chuckles followed, but the warmth in his voice softened the moment.

He stepped forward then, just enough that the fire illuminated the raw edges of his face creased from sun and time and something deeper.

"I came here years ago," he said. "And it helped me bury some things, I wasn’t proud of. To do something useful without needing to be seen. But lately... I’ve been reminded of something I didn’t think I’d feel again. Purpose. Belonging."

He glanced again at Natalie, the firelight dancing in his eyes.

"And love."

She didn’t move, didn’t blink. But her heart thundered in her chest.

"I believe in this sanctuary," Mason continued. "But more than that, I believe in the people who keep it alive. I believe in Natalie. And if you’ll have me, for however long this fight lasts, I want us to stay. Not just as a caretaker, surgeon, friend, but as partners."

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