Page 57 of Mountain Grump Protector

“It’s what we do,” Luke adds.

I nod. It is what we do.

Willow and I don’t speak as we stand side by side watching my friends get in their trucks and drive away. The silence settles around us.

For once, the mountain is truly quiet. Even Murph has retreated to the porch steps.

It’s not until we’re alone in the yard that she finally turns to me.

The truth is, I already know what she's going to say. I also know we can't leave it hanging between us. Not anymore.

Not if this is going to go any further.

And lord help me, even after everything, I do. More than anything.

"We need to talk."

We both speak the words at the exact same time, and I almost smile.

Almost.

But then I look at her and remember exactly why this conversation is going to be a lot harder than either of us wants it to be. “Let’s go inside.”

Chapter Seventeen

Willow

The last thing I want to do is talk. What I really want to do is snuggle into Cal's arms and forget that today ever happened, but one look at him and I know that's not going to happen. Besides, I owe him more than silence.

A lot more.

The walk back to the cabin feels longer than it should.

Every step gives me a fresh opportunity to think about how I’ve screwed things up.

Instead of appreciating and respecting everything he’s done for me, what did I do?

I betrayed him at the first opportunity.

The screen door creaks as Cal pulls it open and waits for me to step inside.

The familiar scent of pine and wood smoke, with a touch of motor oil, wraps around me, and for one ridiculous second, I wish we could go back a week.

It’s hard to believe now that I could ever think Cal was like other men.

I walk straight to the kitchen window, place my hands on the counter, and stare outside for a moment before taking a deep breath and turning around to face him. “I should have told you.”

He doesn’t speak right away, his handsome face completely unreadable.

For a man who spends most of his time pretending not to care about anything, Cal is annoyingly good at silence.

The longer it stretches between us, the worse I feel. Finally, he crosses his arms over his chest and blows out a breath. "Yeah, you should have."

I expect him to raise his voice. To yell. To be angry at the danger I put him in. That I put all of us in. But he just stands there, calm and controlled. And then he says, “I’m sorry you didn’t think you could trust me, Willow.”

I take a staggering step backwards, knocking into the counter. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he says. He drops his gaze and looks down at his feet for a moment. “I never want you to think it’s not safe to tell me the truth, and I hate that you felt you had to hide that from me. I never⁠—”