In that perfect moment of release, I'm more present, more alive than I've ever been. He collapses beside me rather than on top of me, immediately pulling me against him like he can't bear to break our connection. Both of us are slick with sweat, chests heaving as we try to catch our breath. For long minutes, we lie tangled together, unable to speak, unwilling to move.
As our heartbeats gradually slow, I curl against his chest, tracing idle patterns through the light dusting of dark hair there. His skin is hot against mine, little tremors still running through his powerful frame. His heartbeat is strong and steady beneath my ear, his arm a solid weight around my waist—protective, possessive, perfect.
"That was..." I begin, struggling to find words adequate for what just happened between us.
"Yeah," he agrees, understanding without explanation. His fingers comb gently through my tangled hair, occasionally massaging my scalp in a way that makes me almost purr with contentment.
The intimacy of this moment—the quiet aftermath—feels even more profound than the passion that preceded it. I've had sex before, but never this. Never something that felt like laying my soul bare alongside my body.
"I can hear you thinking," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
I smile against his chest. "Just realizing that getting lost might be the best thing that ever happened to me."
His arm tightens around me. "Definitely the best thing that ever happened to me."
Outside, the storm rages on, but in here, wrapped in Caleb's arms, I've found a shelter more secure than any mountain cabin. I've found home.
"I never expected you," I whisper into the darkness. "When I came to Montana, I was looking for myself, not..."
"Not a grumpy hermit?" There's a smile in his voice.
"Not the love of my life," I correct him softly.
His arm tightens around me, and I feel his lips press against the top of my head. "I love you," he says, the words rough with emotion. "Have for a while now."
The simple confession fills my chest with warmth. "I know," I murmur, pressing a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "I love you too."
As sleep claims me, I marvel at how the universe works. I came to these mountains lost, and in losing my way completely, I found exactly where I was meant to be. In this cabin, on this mountain, in the arms of a man who sees me more clearly than anyone ever has.
Sometimes, getting lost is the only way to find your way home.
EPILOGUE
CALEB
One Year Later
A little over a year ago, I found a city girl lost in my woods. Today, I'm watching her through the cabin window, barefoot in the garden despite the morning chill, her dark hair catching the sunlight as she harvests the last of summer's tomatoes.
My wife.
The word still feels new in my mind. Foreign but right, like it was waiting there all along.
Ruby lies at Lila's feet, ever the faithful shadow since the day I brought my woman home. The dog made her choice long before I admitted mine. Smart animal.
I pour two mugs of coffee—hers with cream, a luxury I never kept before her—and step onto the porch. The mountain air carries the first hint of fall, the promise of snow not far behind. I don't dread the coming winter like I used to. Not anymore.
"Morning," I call, and Lila turns, her smile hitting me square in the chest like it does every damn time.
"I was wondering when you'd drag yourself out of bed." She sets her basket down and walks toward me, those hips swaying in a rhythm I've memorized with my hands. "Thought mountain men were supposed to rise with the sun."
"Had a late night." I hand her the coffee, letting my fingers linger against hers. "Someone kept me up."
Her cheeks flush, and I still can't believe I get to see that—her pink skin and bright eyes in the morning light, the way she bites her lip remembering what we did to each other in the dark.
"Worth it though, right?" She winks, and something in my chest expands.
A year ago, my cabin was silent. Empty. Just the way I thought I wanted it. Now there are Lila's books mixed with mine on the shelves, her fancy coffee mugs hanging beside my chipped ones, her hiking boots next to mine by the door. Little pieces of her life tangled up with mine until I can't remember what it was like before.
