Page 34 of The Mountain Man's Fake Christmas Bride
"No." Her smile is brief but genuine. "I think you're both terrified. Her because of whatever hurt she's carrying from her past. You because you've been hiding on this mountain since the accident, convincing yourself you're better off alone."
The accuracy of her assessment is uncomfortable. "I'm not hiding."
"Please." She dismisses my protest with a wave. "You run a store in town but have employees handle all customer interactions. You build a life where you need no one. Even your rigid friend, Ridge, only sees you when you allow it."
"I needed space."
"Space, yes. Isolation, no. There's a difference." She fixes me with a penetrating look. "The fire took more than just your career, didn't it? It took your belief that you deserve happiness."
The truth of her words hits hard. After the accident, after Sarah left, I convinced myself I was better off alone. That I preferred solitude. But what if that was just fear? Fear of being vulnerable. Of being hurt. Of being left again.
"I don't know how to do this," I admit quietly. "I don't know how to be what she needs."
"Have you asked her what she needs? Or are you deciding for her?"
I have no answer for that.
"Jared." Her voice gentles. "That girl upstairs loves you. Not some idealized version of you. Not the man you were before the accident. She loves you, scars and all."
"But what if she's right? What if it's too fast? What if it doesn't last?"
"Nothing in life is guaranteed." She sets down her empty mug. "I've outlived two husbands and a son. Buried friends and siblings. Seen more loss than most. And I can tell you with absolute certainty that the only true regrets I have are the chances I didn't take. The love I was too afraid to pursue."
She stands, suddenly looking every one of her ninety-two years. "I'm going back to bed. But think about this, Jared. What's braver? Hiding on this mountain alone for the rest of your life? Or taking a chance on happiness, knowing it might not last forever, but would be beautiful while it did?"
She shuffles toward the guest room, then pauses at the doorway. "And for god's sake, fix things with that girl before Beverly arrives in the morning. She'll never let you hear the end of it if you mess this up."
The door closes behind her, leaving me alone with her words echoing in my mind.
What's braver?
I've never thought of myself as a coward. I ran into burning forests for a living. Faced death multiple times. Rebuilt my life after losing everything that defined me.
But Aunt Mildred is right. I've been hiding. Not just from the world, but from the possibility of love. Of connection. Of a future that includes someone else.
And I've been doing the same thing to Jennifer that Sarah did to me. Deciding what's best for her without giving her achance to choose for herself. Making assumptions about what she wants, what she needs.
It's nearly four in the morning when I climb the stairs to our bedroom. The door is slightly ajar, a strip of moonlight spilling into the darkened hallway. I push it open gently, expecting to find Jennifer asleep.
Instead, she sits by the window, wrapped in a blanket, staring out at the mountains. She turns when I enter, her face pale in the moonlight, eyes red-rimmed from crying.
"I'm sorry," I say immediately.
"Me too." Her voice is rough. "I didn't mean to make you doubt us."
"I know." I move closer, stopping a few feet away, unsure of my welcome. "I overreacted. Shut down when I should have listened."
"I was scared," she admits. "Still am, a little. But not of being with you. Never that."
"Then what?"
"Of losing you." She pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "Of falling so completely only to find out it's not real. That it can't last."
"Why wouldn't it be real?" I take another step closer.
"Because real relationships take time. They're built slowly, with shared experiences and challenges overcome together. Yes, I’ve known you for most my life, but in reality, I've only known you as the man you’ve become for a few weeks." She looks up at me, vulnerable and honest. "At least that's what I've always believed."
I kneel in front of her, finally close enough to touch. "Maybe we're the exception."
