Page 14 of Mountain Man Rescue
“What’s wrong with you, buddy?”
The silence answers me. It’s heavy and all wrong.
I step into the living room. Her blanket’s folded neatly on the sofa. Her mug’s rinsed and turned upside down on a mat next to the sink. My stomach drops.
“Gina?”
Nothing.
I run down the hall, yank open the spare room door—empty. The ridiculous little ballet flats that made me laugh the first day I saw them are gone.
Panic slams through me. I charge back to the front door, fling it open, and see the prints in the snow—small, neat steps leading down the drive.
“She’s gone,” I whisper.
My knees nearly buckle. I know what she did. She saw the plow and hitched a ride down the mountain.
And I let her.
For the first time in years, the quiet feels unbearable.
“Not this time,” I growl, grabbing my coat from the peg and storming into the barn. I grab a shovel, clearing snow like a man possessed. My breath burns in the cold air, my muscles screaming, but I keep going.
If Gus is still making his rounds, I can catch him before he reaches the bottom. Maybe—just maybe—there’s still time.
I throw the shovel aside, start the truck, and gun the engine. The tires spin in the slush, spitting ice, but I grip the wheel hard and aim for the main road.
Hold on, Red.
I’m coming for you.
Chapter Ten
Gina
The plow rattles down the mountain, chains clinking over ice, and I sit in the passenger’s seat beside Gus, with my hands folded tightly in my lap. The heater hums, but I can’t stop shivering. Maybe it’s the cold—or maybe it’s the hollow ache that started the minute I walked out of Wyatt’s cabin.
He’s probably in the shower right now, humming under his breath, oblivious to the fact that I’m gone. Or maybe he noticed. Maybe he didn’t. Either way, leaving was the only thing I could do before I made a complete fool of myself begging him to let me stay.
I have to take the gift I’ve been given and cherish it. Wyatt showed me something I’d stopped believing in—that it’s possible to be accepted just as I am and someone could love me.
My pulse races at the wordlove.
What I wouldn’t give to be loved by a man like Wyatt.
The truck slows, snow spraying up from the blade. Gus pulls on a pair of gloves and turns to me, “Would you mind if I get out here for a few. I’ve got a couple of friends up here who can’t shovel for themselves.”
“Of course not,” I say, forcing a smile. “You go right ahead. You’re the one doing a favor for me.”
He nods and hops out, leaving me alone with the hum of the engine. I stare out at the trees dusted white, blinking back the tears that keep threatening to fall. Lucky’s probably curled by the fire right now. Wyatt’s probably drinking coffee, glad to have his place all to himself.
When Gus climbs back in, I swipe a stray tear off my cheek.
“You alright, hon?”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly. “I think I got something in my eye.”
“Mmm.” He starts the plow again, the sound of the dropped plow rumbling in my chest.
