Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 32998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
"She does look different," Dalton agrees softly, stepping deeper into the room.
My cheeks heat as they both stare at me. I tried to hide the love bites on my throat with concealer in the car. I think I did a pretty good job, so I know they can't see those. But maybe I do look different to them. I feel different. Except I'm not sure how to explain that to them. Where do I even start? My whole life changed in the mountains. It's only been a few days, but to me, it feels like I've been up there for a lifetime.
"Maybe I look different because I found myself in the mountains," I finally say. It's the truest answer I have for them. I did find myself. In Carver's arms, I realized exactly who I am and what I want, what I need, and what I crave. I'll never tell them the details—those are for me and Carver alone—but I'm not ashamed of who and what Carver and I are together. I could never, ever be ashamed of him and what we have.
"Found yourself, huh?" Gramps chuckles weakly, a glint in his eyes. "I didn't know you were lost, little bird."
"I've always been lost," I mutter—another poignant truth. And then I huff out a breath, reaching deep for a little courage. "You've always had your own ideas about my future, but they aren't mine, Gramps. My dreams have always been simple."
"Son of a bitch," Dalton growls suddenly. "You aren't staying in that fucking cabin alone, are you?"
I whip my head in his direction. "How do you…?"
"I know you," he mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face wearily. "You're talking like you found your goddamn purpose in life."
"Maybe I did," I whisper, feeling defiant. "And maybe he's exactly what I've always wanted out of life. And maybe, just maybe, I'm happier than I've ever been."
"With a mountain man?" Dalton crosses his arms, his gaze locked on my face. He doesn't seem averse to the idea though. Just…curious.
"He isn't a mountain man." I grimace. "Well, not exactly. He's a former Army Ranger. He just retired to the mountains."
"When do we get to meet him?" Gramps demands, cutting right to what he sees as the heart of the matter. "No man is taking my granddaughter unless he's worth a damn, little bird."
"You'll meet him when I'm ready. And just so we're clear, I won't let either of you run him off." My voice doesn't waver, even as their expressions shift between surprise and indignation.
"Why would you think we'd do that?" Dalton asks, his brows furrowed.
"Um, because you're overprotective and you hate love?" I retort, looking at him like he's lost his mind. "Grandfather sees marriage as a business deal. You act like it's a curse. I'm sure you'd both be thrilled if I married some boring old billionaire of your choosing or never married at all." I pause, taking a breath. "But I'm not like either of you. I want love and family and happily ever after. That's all I've ever wanted."
Dalton and my grandfather share a look I don't understand. It's almost…troubled, as if they've both just come to the same realization. And then Dalton sighs.
"You don't know us nearly as well as you think you do, baby cousin."
My brows furrow in confusion. "What does that mean?"
"Maybe there's a part of us that loves too much," Dalton says after a moment, a vulnerability in his eyes that I've never seen. "And maybe that love scares us."
"Dalton, I…" For the first time, I realize that there are hidden depths to my family that I've never noticed before, secrets that I don't know. All this time, I've thought he and Gramps were fighting because Gramps was forcing him into a marriage he didn't want…but is there more to the story? Something they've kept from me?
The way they both avoid my gaze hints that maybe there is. But as much as I want to know what it is and fix it for Dalton, I can't do that. If I learned anything in the mountains with Carver, it's that there's freedom in letting go. Perhaps Dalton needs to learn surrender, too.
God, Carver.
His image—those piercing gray eyes, that rugged, muscular body—burns bright in my mind, and I physically ache to get back to him. He's my Daddy, and I'm his little girl. I need him in every way that counts.
"Whatever secrets you're keeping, it doesn't change how I feel," I tell my grandfather and Dalton, my voice firm. "I love you both beyond reason, but I know what I want, and I won't let either of you stand in my way. Please don't make me fight you."
Gramps snorts, rolling his eyes in Dalton's direction. "You could take a page from her book, you know," he mutters, his voice rumbling with displeasure. "And actually fight for what you want when its standing right in front of you."