Page 44 of Challenged By the Mountain Man

But maybe there's a compromise. Maybe there's a way for both of us to have what we need without either of us giving up everything. Maybe I don't have to ask her to abandon her entire life, and maybe I don't have to abandon mine either.

Maybe that's just wishful thinking from a man who hasn't had anything to wish for in eight years.

"You're brooding again," Hannah murmurs against my chest, and I realize I've been tense, my muscles locked up with the weight of thoughts I don't know how to process.

I force myself to relax, my hand moving to stroke her hair. "How can you tell?"

"I can feel it. You're all rigid and thinky."

"Thinky isn't a word."

"It is now." She props herself up on one elbow to look at me, and even in the dim firelight I can see the satisfied flush still on her cheeks, the marks I left on her neck. "What were you thinking about?"

I should lie. Should tell her I was just listening to the fire or thinking about what needs to be done tomorrow. But she just gave me something precious, something she'd never given anyone else. How could I ever lie to her?

"I was thinking about what happens after your two weeks here," I say.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

She's quiet for a moment, her finger tracing idle patterns on my chest. "What about it?"

"You're going to leave," I say, and the words taste bitter. "You're going to go back to your life, your job, your town. And I'm going to stay here."

"Is that what you want?"

The question catches me off guard. "What I want?"

"Yeah." She sits up fully now. "Do you want me to leave after two weeks?"

"No." The word comes out before I can stop it. "But I don't know what the alternative is. I don't know how to ask for what I want when I don't even know if it's possible."

"Try me," she says.

I sit up too, running a hand through my hair. "I want you to stay. In some capacity. Any capacity. But I know that's insane. We've known each other two days, and I can't ask you to upend your entire life for someone you just met. That's not fair to you."

"What if I want to?"

"You don't know that yet," I say. "You don't know me well enough to make that decision. And I don't know you well enough to ask it of you, no matter how much I want to."

She's quiet for a long moment, studying my face in the firelight. "So, what do we do?"

"I don't know." I shake my head, frustrated with myself. "All I know is that I don't want this to end when your two weeks are up. I don't want to go back to—" I gesture around the cabin. "To this being my entire world again. Not after knowing what it feels like to have you in it."

Her expression softens. "I don't want that either."

"Then help me figure this out. Because I'm shit at this. I haven't had to think about anyone but myself in eight years, and I don't know how to do this without fucking it up."

She reaches out and takes my hand, lacing her fingers through mine. "What if we didn't rush it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what if I didn't go back to my old life, but I also didn't jump straight into living on a mountain with someone I just met?" She bites her lip, thinking. "Wildwood has apartments, right? Jobs?"

Understanding starts to dawn. "You want to move to Wildwood?"

"Maybe. If that's something you'd be okay with." She squeezes my hand. "I could get a place in town, find a job… There's got to be a bank or something that needs tellers. And we could... see where this goes. Without the pressure of me giving up everything or you having to change who you are."