Page 40 of Christmas With The Broken Mountain Man
I want to say yes immediately, to throw myself into this future he's offering. But Greg's voice still echoes in my head—you're nothing without me, you'll never make it on your own, no one will ever want you like I do.
"I need time," I say finally. "Not to decide if I love you—I do, more than I thought possible. But to find myself again, to be sure I'm making choices from strength, not fear."
Instead of disappointment, understanding fills Mason's eyes. "Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere."
"Neither am I," I promise, leaning forward to kiss him softly. "I just need to be whole again before I give myself to someone else, even someone as wonderful as you."
"I can respect that." He pulls me into his arms. "As long as you're whole here, with me, in Whisper Vale."
"I'd like that." I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling truly safe for the first time in months. "Maybe I'll even talk to Principal Garcia about that substitute teaching position."
Mason's arms tighten around me. "Really?"
"Really. It's time I stopped running and started building." I look up at him, heart full. "And I'd like to build here, with you, if that's okay."
His answer is a kiss that feels steals my breath.
Later, in bed, wrapped in each other's arms, I ask the question that's been nagging at me. "Did you mean it? When you said you love me?"
"With every fiber of my being," Mason answers without hesitation. "I know it's fast. I know it defies logic. But I've never been more certain of anything in my life."
"Me neither." I trace the lines of his face in the moonlight. "It terrifies me how much I feel for you."
"Good things often do." He captures my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. "We have time, Destiny. Time to figure this out, time to heal, time to build the life we want."
"Together," I whisper.
"Together," he agrees, pulling me closer.
As I drift toward sleep in Mason's arms, I realize that for the first time in months, I'm not afraid of what tomorrow might bring. Instead, I'm excited. Hopeful. Ready to discover what comes next in this unexpected love story that began with a black eye, a snowstorm, and a pretend engagement.
Whatever it is, we'll face it together. And that makes all the difference.
CHAPTER NINE
MASON
Christmas Eve morning dawns clear and cold, sunlight glittering across fresh snow that fell overnight. I lie awake, watching Destiny sleep beside me, her blonde curls spread across my pillow, her face peaceful in repose. My chest tightens with a feeling I'm still getting used to, this overwhelming mix of tenderness, protectiveness, and desire that I've come to recognize as love.
Two weeks have passed since the confrontation with Greg. Two weeks of cautious optimism as Destiny slowly accepts that she's truly free, that the threat has been neutralized. Tom's kept us updated, Greg returned to California, is facing an investigation into his conduct, and hasn't been seen anywhere near Nevada since that night.
The change in Destiny has been remarkable to witness. Day by day, she's shedding the constant vigilance, the ingrained fear responses, the habit of checking exits and flinching at sudden movements. She laughs more freely now, takes walks alone in the woods behind the cabin, makes plans for the future.
Plans that include me.
Yesterday, she had her interview with Principal Garcia for the substitute teaching position. She came home, and yes, it feels like our home now, practically glowing with excitement. The job is hers if she wants it, starting after the holiday break.
"I told him yes," she'd said, eyes sparkling. "I'm staying, Mason. I'm making a life here."
Now, watching her sleep in the soft morning light, I feel a sense of rightness so profound it almost scares me. I've never been a believer in fate or destiny, ironic, given her name, but how else can I explain finding everything I never knew I wanted in a woman who literally showed up on my doorstep?
She stirs, eyelids fluttering. "You're staring," she murmurs without opening her eyes.
"Can you blame me?" I trace a finger along the curve of her cheek. "You're beautiful in the morning."
"Flatterer." She stretches like a cat, the movement pushing her breasts against the thin fabric of her sleep shirt. My body responds instantly, predictably.
Her eyes open, hazel flecked with gold in the morning light. "Merry Christmas Eve."
