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Sage turned off the stove without a word. She walked over, gently pulled his head down to rest against her soft chest, and wrapped her arms around him. The flannel smelled like her skin and his own detergent. She kissed the top of his hair, slow and tender.

“It’s okay, my love. We go at your pace. If you want to stop, we stop. If you want to keep going, we keep going.”

She smirked, voice dropping into that playful lilt. “But I make no promises. If someone from your past hurt you, I reserve the right to fuck ‘em up.”

Cal laughed against her breasts and hugged her back, then tilted his head up to steal a slow, deep kiss. When she pulled away, he scratched the back of his neck.

“Baby, I keep feeling like I wanna apologize again for yesterday. I know, I know—” he held up a hand before she could protest, “—but sweetheart, I caused that and⁠—”

“No, you fucking didn’t,” she said firmly, cutting him off. She held up both hands when he tried to speak. “Look, Daddy… I don’t know every detail yet. I’ve talked to some people. I get the gist. But it wasn’t you. It’s what happened to you. And if there’s one thing you taught me, it’s that what happens to you doesn’t define you. You didn’t hurt me last night, Cal. Your past hurt you, and you thought it would hurt me.”

Cal stared at her, chest tight with awe. “How did you get so smart?”

Sage wandered back to the stove with an innocent little sway that made his blood run hot. “Awww, you know. My Daddy taught me.”

Cal laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… I still think your Daddy owes you.”

She paused, then turned with that filthy, velvet voice that always unraveled him. “Well, last night he did lick my ass and made me cum so hard that I saw stars.”

Cal choked on his hot chocolate, sputtering as it spilled down his chin. Sage burst out laughing while he wiped his face and the table.

“You really get a kick out of doing that, don’t you?” he growled, eyes dark with heat.

Sage grinned, flipped the hem of the flannel up, and slapped her own plump, juicy ass with a happy smack. “Yep!”

She brought the plates to the table and sat right beside him, close enough that her bare thigh pressed against his. Her expression turned earnest. “Seriously, baby… you’ve given me so much.” She glanced out the window at Brutus climbing a pine tree, then back to him. “You saved my life. You gave me back my body. You made my heart sing again. It never did that before you. You’ve given me hope and…” She blushed, suddenly vulnerable. “Please don’t read into this or freak out or anything, but…I’m…praying again.”

Cal felt something precious click into place inside his chest. He reached across the table and took both her hands in his, just like he had the very first night they met.

“Lord, we…” He cleared his throat. “We thank you. For this food. For her. For getting us here. I don’t always know how to do this. But thank you.” When he finished, both of them had wet eyes.

Sage looked at him, voice soft and full of wonder.

“Amen.”

SAGE

The sun kept shining like it had something to prove, pouring bright, buttery light through the tall windows of her studio. Sage stood at her easel in nothing but one of Cal’s old button-downs, the sleeves rolled up, paint smudged across her thighs. She was trying to focus on the canvas—soft washes of winter gold and pine green—but her eyes kept drifting to the ridge above the cabin.

Cal had made half a dozen trips up the narrow trail already, each time disappearing with another large pack or bundle strapped to his broad back. Every time he came back down he looked quietly pleased with himself, that little half-smile tugging at his mouth.

Eventually her curiosity won. She wiped her hands on a rag, padded downstairs barefoot, and stepped out onto the porch just as he was shrugging into another heavy pack.

“Babe?… Are you sure you don’t want me to help?”

Cal looked up, sweat glistening at his temples, and shook his head with that calm, mountain-man grin. “Brutus is helping.”

Sage laughed, loud and bright. Out in the sunny patch of snow, the massive grizzly was sprawled on his back like a giant, lazy dog, chewing contentedly on a frozen salmon the size of her arm that Cal has fed him. His enormous paws waved lazily in the air.

“Yeah, he looks real helpful,” she teased.

Cal paused, adjusting a strap across his chest. “Well, he’s cheering me on anyway.”

She watched him head back up the trail, that powerful stride eating up the distance, and felt a warm flutter low in her belly. Whatever he was planning, he was excited about it. She loved when her big, stoic man got like this.

A little later, the crunch of tires on gravel pulled her attention. Mary Sue’s truck rolled up and the older woman climbed out, took one look at Sage standing there in Cal’s flannel with paint in her hair, and broke into a knowing smile.

“Good job, baby girl.”