Page 14 of My Protective Mountain Man

The door creaks open, and she steps out into the sun, her silhouette framed by the blinding light. And just like that, she’s out of reach.

The silence she leaves behind is deafening.

The pain stretches on after she leaves, echoing in every corner of the cabin. She left yesterday but it feels like it’s been a year. It’s not just quiet—it’s hollow. Empty in a way I didn’t know a place could feel. I pace the floorboards like a caged animal. I sit. I stand. I run a hand through my hair for what feels like the hundredth time. My chest aches in this deep, unfamiliar way, like there’s a pressure there I can’t get rid of. Like part of me walked out the door with her.

I replay everything she said. And everything I said back.

God, I was insensitive. I didn’t mean to be, but I was. I let the fear and betrayal hit first and didn’t stop to listen—to really listen. I told myself I was protecting what’s mine, but all I did was push away something… someone… I was starting to need more than I’m ready to admit.

Then, something catches my eye.

A small white rectangle on the floor, just under the edge of the couch.

I bend down, my fingers brushing it as I pick it up.

Her business card.

Sierra Mitchell. Her beautiful face just above. That sleek little logo of the development company printed in the corner like a brand. But all I see isher.The way her lips quirk when she’s trying not to smile. The fire in her eyes when she argues. The warmth in her laugh when she lets herself relax.

I stare at the card. My thumb runs over the raised lettering again and again. It feels too light to carry the weight it suddenly has.

And just like that, the anger fades. All that’s left is regret. I’m an idiot.

She told me the truth. It wasn’t perfect—hell, it hurt like hell—but it was honest. She could’ve kept lying. She could’ve spun some sweet little story and tried to charm me into signing over everything I’ve built here. But she didn’t. Shechoseto tell me the truth. To risk everything she’d built with me in just a few days—for honesty.

Shechoseme. And I threw it in her face. God. I told her she used me. I made her feel cheap. Like none of this—none ofus—was real.

I drop the card on the table and grip the edge like it might anchor me.

The air in the cabin is suffocating. Every piece of furniture reminds me of her. Her hands on the mug of coffee I made her. Her laughter echoing through the room. Her body curled up beside mine under a blanket on the bed.

I see her everywhere. And I hate myself for being the reason she’s gone.

I need to see her again.

Ineedto fix this.

I grab my keys from the hook by the door with a renewed urgency. I don’t think, I just move. The need to find her—to make this right—burns hotter than anything I’ve felt in years.

The engine rumbles to life, low and familiar, but even that comforting sound feels distant under the pounding in my chest. I back out of the gravel drive, tires spitting dust, and hit the road harder than I probably should.

I don’t know exactly where she is, but I know where to start.

That office. That boss of hers. The one who sent her here. If she went anywhere, it’s back there. Back to the job that sent her into my life.

But maybe I can pull her back out of it.

I grip the wheel tighter as the miles blur past. Trees rush by in green streaks. The sun is high now, burning through the windshield. My jaw is tight. My pulse is racing.

Because I’ve made up my mind. I’m not letting her go.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

SIERRA

The fluorescent lightsbuzz overhead as I step into the office, the air stale and cold in a way that seeps into my bones. The warmth of the cabin, the heat of Everest’s arms around me, the way the morning light lit up his face—it all feels like a dream I woke up from too soon.

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