Page 11 of Cracking with the Mountain Man

"I had a husband who wanted me in private." My voice comes out steady. Surprised by that. "Four years of being someone's secret ingredient. The thing that made his life taste better without anyone knowing I was there."

His face changes. "That's not what this is."

"Then come to the market."

Silence. The mountain is quiet around us. Wind through the aspens. Boone's nails clicking on the porch as he shifts between our feet, sensing the temperature change.

"I can't."

Two words. And they're honest. I can see that. He's not Vikram. He's not keeping me hidden because he's ashamed. He's hiding himself because he's terrified. Of being responsible. Of being needed. Of showing up and having something go wrong again.

But understanding why someone hurts you doesn't make it hurt less.

"Okay." Setting the mug down on the railing. My voice is calm but my hands are shaking. "I'm not going to beg someone to be seen with me. I did that once and I promised myself I'd never do it again."

"Priya, wait."

"You know where to find me, Owen. Same place I've been this whole time." Opening the door. "But I won't be someone's secret. I'm worth more than that."

The door closes behind me. Through the window, I watch him stand on the porch for a long time. Hands at his sides. Boone pressed against his leg, looking up at him with those brown eyes.

Then he turns and walks up the trail toward his cabin. Boone follows, but he looks back twice.

The kitchen is quiet. The coffee goes cold in my mug. Nani's recipe cards sit on the counter in their careful rows, and the chimney cake batter I prepped this morning waits in the fridge for a demo that I'll do alone.

My phone buzzes.

Meera:

So? Is mountain man coming to the market?

Me:

No.

Meera:

Oh honey.

Me:

I’m fine.

Except I'm not fine. I'm standing in my kitchen pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes because I let myself believe that a man who bought good coffee beans for me was the same as a man who'd choose me out loud.

Boone's water bowl sits by the door. His paw prints are still damp on the floor from this morning.

Saturday I'll do the demo. Smile for the crowd. Nail the chimney cake. Come home to this cabin and try not to notice that it already feels too quiet without the sound of a hatchet on the porch and a dog's nails on the floorboards.

Seven months I spent learning to be alone after Vikram.

One week with Owen and I've forgotten how.

CHAPTER FIVE

OWEN

Thursday passes. Friday passes. Boone stops eating his dinner on Friday night.