Page 61 of Wild Heart

“I want this child to know joy,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “Not just from being loved. But from watching people who love each other. Who show up. No matter what.”

Mason shifted closer, his hand reaching for hers. “We’ll give them that,” he said. “Together.”

Natalie pressed a hand to her belly, where life had begun again. And for the first time in what felt like years, she didn’t just believe in tomorrow. She welcomed it. The fire had burneddown to embers again by the time Olivia and Davey left the cabin. Outside, the wind had calmed, and a hush had settled over the sanctuary grounds like a woolen blanket. The kind of silence only found in mountain places, thick, reverent, and full of old things, ancient, spiritual, wild and watching.

Natalie stood by the window, her arms wrapped around herself as porch lanterns swayed in the breeze. The reflection of her own face, pale and drawn in the glass, stared back at her. Behind her, Mason moved quietly, tidying up their mugs, stoking the fire one last time with a metal poker.

He didn’t speak right away. He knew enough about Natalie by now to recognize when her mind was louder than her words. The seasons had come and passed since she’d come to the sanctuary. It felt like a lifetime and yet also like yesterday. Now here they were.

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you,” he said, softly.

Natalie turned from the window, blinking as though pulled from a dream. Her lips parted, but no words came. She didn’t expect that. Not so simply.

He stood a few feet from her, firelight tracing the contours of his face, the lines at his eyes, the weather-worn skin of his hands. Hands that had carried birds, stitched wounds, built shelters from splintered wood and willpower. Hands that had, more than once, held her together without ever squeezing too tight.

“I need you to hear that,” he continued, stepping closer. “Because I know I haven’t always said the right things. I’ve made mistakes. I should’ve told you things sooner. I should’ve fought harder when things got quiet between us. I let my fear speak when I should’ve listened.”

Natalie lowered her gaze, her throat thick with emotion.

“But,” Mason added, “I’m here. And I’m staying. For you. For this baby. For us.”

She looked up at him then, tears shining unshed in her eyes. “I don’t need a rescue, Mason.”

“I know.” He smiled. “That’s one of the things I love most about you.”

She let out a soft, choked laugh and shook her head. “How did we even get here?”

Mason stepped close enough to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “Because we didn’t run away from the hard things. At least… not forever.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the fire casting long shadows behind them.

“You remember that first night?” she asked. “When I arrived here, angry and hollow and pretending I was fine?”

He nodded. “You wore that green coat and gave me a lecture on ethical sedation techniques.”

“You were using a tranquilizer dart on a fox that didn’t need one.”

“I was improvising.”

“You were showing off.”

“Maybe.”

They both smiled.

“I didn’t expect you to last two weeks,” he admitted.

“I didn’t expect to stay.”

“And yet…” He reached for her hands and held them between his. “Here we are.”

She looked at their joined fingers, at the quiet strength in the man before her. “I’m scared, Mason. Not just about the baby, about everything. Loving you. Letting myself believe in this.”

He nodded, his voice low and sure. “Me too. But I promise you this, whatever comes, I won’t let you do it alone. I won’t let you down.”

She swallowed hard. “I want to believe that.”

“Then let me show you.”

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