Page 23 of The Mountain Man's Sweet Treat
“I think they would be proud of the man you are,” I say.
He shakes his head and says, “You don’t get it. I was a foster kid.”
“Why would that change anything?” I ask.
He says, “When you’re a foster kid, you’re not loved for who you are. You’re loved for what you do. You have to work extra hard to belong. I did it by being funny and always smiling and never giving anyone a reason to worry about me. I can’t go back to being that person, not anymore.”
My heart aches at his raw confession.
I say, “Well, if I had a son, foster son or not, I’d want you to know that I loved you no matter what. Even if there were days that the darkness stole your smile. I’d want to be there for you on those days, especially on those days.”
He swallows, looks down at his food. “I have stuff to do,” he mutters again.
I nod and accept his answer. I understand that it’s all he can offer me right now. Maybe one day it will get easier for him. Maybe one day he can understand that he is so very loved.
Whiskey is extra quiet during breakfast, probably thinking about everything I’ve said.
When it’s time for him to leave for work, he presses a kiss to my forehead the way he has every day for the last two weeks. “We’ll go on a run together later.”
I nod and smile, liking that idea. He’s spent the last two weeks training with me. He never complains about how far we run. And he doesn’t try to make conversation during our runs.
He’s just there with me, a silent support. Reminding me that not only am I strong, but I’m not strong alone.
I wave to him, then drive into town. I stop in at Mallory’s place to talk about her idea for adding a makeup counter.
“Have you made a decision yet?” she asks me.
I shake my head. “No, I haven’t come to any decisions. But these are the figures you asked for. How much capital you’d need if we were going to do this.”
She takes the list and glances it over. “You let me know if you decide. I know you can hire just anybody.”
“You let me know what you decide. You can hire just anybody,” I point out.
She gives me a smile that’s filled with warmth and kindness. “I could, but I’d much rather it be you.”
After that, we spend a few minutes talking. She shows me her latest inventory. The dresses are adorable, and I even buy one for myself. A little white one with a sweetheart neckline and little smiling pumpkins on it. It’s the perfect cute autumn dress.
After that, I go to Emma May’s grocery store. She spots me while she’s restocking shelves and waves me over.
“You look better and better every time I see you.”
“I kind of met a guy,” I tell her, feeling my cheeks heat.
“Oh?” she asks, arching an eyebrow. There’s another look on her face. Just like a couple of weeks ago when I bought the wedding dress. It’s a look I can’t quite define. Like she might know a secret I don’t.
“He’s my boyfriend. We’re dating,” I tell her.
She brightens instantly. “You should bring him to the fall festival. We’re having one in two days. There’ll be caramel apples, a pumpkin decorating contest, face painting for the kids, hayrides, there’s even a haunted house at the edge of town. Most everybody will be there. You should come and bring your fella.”
“He’s kind of quiet,” I explain. “He prefers solitude, but I’ll ask him.”
The truth is, I want to ask her about Whiskey. I want to know who he is and who his family is. But it’s not my place to tell his secrets. He promised to be gentle with my heart, and I have to be gentle with his. That means being patient and letting him heal at his own pace.
Chapter 12
Whiskey
One brutal blow with my axe and the wood splinters neatly into two pieces. Sophie’s words from earlier are still ringing in my ears. You’re my man.
