Chapter Seven

Lena

" C arver?" I reach out for him as early morning light spills across my face, my entire body still humming from the way he claimed me last night. Every inch of me feels sore and used in the best way possible. But I don't find his big body nestled against mine, his broad chest rising and falling steadily. Instead, I find cool sheets.

I blink my eyes open, confirming that he's no longer in the bed.

"Carver?" I call and then pause to listen for his response, but the cabin is too still, too quiet. He's already up and about for the day.

Or maybe he left you , a little voice of doubt whispers, but I shove it down, refusing to hear it. He wouldn't do that…would he?

No, of course not. Not even after…

I shy away from thoughts of what happened last night, refusing to think about the man we left unconscious in the clearing. The one who came out of nowhere.

I feel so stupid for letting myself get caught like that, but I didn't think anyone was out there. I thought I'd go get Carver's axe, and he'd find out and punish me for leaving the porch.

I naively let myself believe that I was completely safe here, able to play any game. That I was untouchable because he was here, too.

It was a foolish belief.

Carver can't protect me from everything, no matter how hard he tries. The world doesn't work that way, as much as I think he wishes it did. There are dangers everywhere, especially in the mountains like this.

I have to be more careful, not just for my sake, but for his too. Because as much as I need him, I think he needs me just as badly. I saw the terror in his eyes. I heard it in his voice. I felt it in his touch. He was afraid for me—afraid he'd lost me when he's already lost so much.

I feel like the worst little girl for putting him through that. He's been the most amazing daddy, treating me like a princess. I've never been this happy. I've never felt this cherished.

I always dreamed about love like this, but I never imagined I'd actually find it. Now, I feel like it's right here within my grasp. Every day, it consumes me—he consumes me. And I love it so damn much.

Maybe what we did was wrong last night—having sex with that man right there. But I loved it. Even after what happened, I felt so safe, so free, like I was more myself than ever before. Carver makes me feel that way, like it's okay to be exactly who I am and love exactly what I do, even when the rest of the world says it's wrong.

Maybe that should scare me. Perhaps it should. There's darkness in what we did last night, I know that. I felt it. But I'm less afraid than ever. Because of Carver.

I sit up, considering slipping into my boots and going to find him. He's probably out chopping wood again, those muscles flexing, sweat sliding down his golden skin, grunting from exertion…

My entire body twitches at the thought.

But before I can throw the covers back, a memory of that man lunging at me flashes through my mind, evil in his brown eyes, a mocking laugh on his lips.

I blink it away and quickly decide to wait inside, where it's safe.

As I pull on one of his oversized shirts, wrapping myself in the scent of pine and something distinctly Carver, my phone erupts into life, Dalton's ringtone ripping through the silence of the room.

I groan, scowling at it on the bedside table. I guess Carver brought it back with us last night. I almost wish he'd left it out there. Maybe then my cousin and my grandfather would stop calling me so much. They're driving me crazy.

It rings again, and I grab it.

"It's way too early for you to be annoying me already, Dalton," I grumble, brushing hair out of my face. "I haven't even peed yet."

"Lena, I need you to come home."

As soon as I hear the tremor in his voice, everything else fades away. Something is wrong. Seriously wrong.

"Dalton," I whisper, clutching the phone tightly. "W-what happened?"

"It's Gramps," he says, exhaling a shaking breath. "Dorothy found him on the bathroom floor this morning. She thinks he had a stroke, Lena."

My heart plummets, ice spreading through my veins. "H-how bad is it?"

"I don't know yet," he admits, frustration bleeding into his voice. He's not the type of man used to not knowing. He's one of the most powerful men in Nashville, always in control. "I just got to the hospital, but no one will tell me a goddamn thing. I don't fucking know if that's good news or bad news. I don't know."

"Okay," I whisper, my voice steadier than I feel. Gramps is the only parent we've had for a long time. And he and Dalton have been arguing for weeks. If he doesn't make it, it's going to destroy Dalton. Because as much as they argue, Dalton loves him fiercely. Just as fiercely as I do.

"I need you," Dalton says, not words he'd speak to many people. He doesn't let anyone close. He never has. But I'm different. I know all his secrets.

"Of course I'm coming," I promise, already dragging a pair of panties up my legs.

I end the call and dress quickly, my thoughts a tangle of anxiety and fear. Carver still isn't back by the time I'm dressed, and I'm not sure exactly where he's gone. I don't have his phone number, either. We never bothered to exchange them.

Not sure what else to do, I scrawl a quick note for him, my hand shaking as the pen scratches across the back of the receipt paper.

Carver,

My grandfather is in the hospital. I have to go. I'll be back soon, I promise. Please wait for me.

Your little girl

I place it in the center of the table, stuff my feet into my shoes, and then grab my keys. The cabin door slams shut behind me, and I notice the empty spot where his truck should be.

"Where are you?" I ask as a tiny seed of doubt sprouts fast. He said he wouldn't leave without telling me…but he isn't here. I push the doubt down, crushing that little seed, and lock it away.

No matter what, he wouldn't leave me.

I drive far faster than I should, the winding roads a blur as my mind bounces back to Carver over and over again. Despite my speed, it still takes two hours to make the drive back to Nashville.

Dalton calls halfway into the trip to let me know that Gramps is going to be okay, but until I see him for myself, I'm not sure I'll be able to breathe easy.

I pull into the hospital parking lot a little before ten, and dash inside to find Dalton pacing the sterile corridor outside the ICU, waiting for me. He looks awful, his suit wrinkled, his hair a mess, dark shadows under his eyes.

Maybe it's him I should be worried about. Has he been sleeping? It doesn't look like it.

"Is he okay?" I ask, rushing toward him.

My cousin drags me into a fierce hug, his arms a familiar weight around me as he drops a kiss on top of my head. "He's irritable as hell, so yeah, he's mostly fine."

"Thank God," I exhale, my knees trembling beneath me as relief rushes through me in a dizzying cloud. The whole drive here, I tried to imagine life without Gramps, and I couldn't. He may be overprotective and set in his ways, but he's my family. I can't lose him. "What happened?"

"Dorothy got there to clean this morning and found him passed out on the bathroom floor," Dalton growls. "Apparently, the crazy old man started feeling off and decided he just needed a cold shower to get everything functioning again." He mutters a curse. "How the fuck he expected that to cure his symptoms, I don't know. You know how goddamn stubborn he is."

"Did he know he was having a stroke?"

"He knew the left side of his body wasn't cooperating," he mutters.

"Oh dear," I whisper.

"We had a fucking argument last night." Dalton scrubs a hand down his face, his expression pained. "Jesus, Lena. I thought I killed him."

"Dalton, no." My heart clenches at his confession. "You didn't cause him to have a stroke. You aren't responsible for that."

"You sure about that?" He laughs without humor. "Because it sure seems like it from where I'm standing. This fucking battle between us is the cause of all his goddamn stress."

I fling my arms around him, squeezing him tight. "You aren't responsible," I say fiercely, believing it all the way to my bones…willing him to believe it, too.

He sighs, releasing me. "You ready to go see him?"

I hesitate for a moment, reluctant to let this conversation go, but he has that look in his eyes—the one that says he's done talking about this. Until he works through it himself, nothing I say is going to get through to him. He's too dang stubborn, exactly like the man currently lying in a hospital bed a few yards away.

So I bob my head in a quick nod instead, and we walk toward our grandfather's room together. The ICU is overwhelmingly large and bright, with beeps and hums coming from every direction. But when we arrive at Gramps' room, the noise fades into the background. His room is quiet, peaceful, the only sound the steady beep of a heart monitor attached to him.

"Lena," he rasps from the bed as soon as we enter. His voice is weak, but his gaze is as sharp as ever, his hazel eyes boring into me, missing nothing. The left side of his lip turns down ever so slightly and there's a tiny tremor in his hand when he lifts it, beckoning me forward.

I practically fly across the room, flinging myself at him with tears in my eyes. "I was so worried about you!" I cry, hugging him as tightly as I dare. "You aren't allowed to scare me like that ever again."

He pats me on the back with his right hand. "I had to get you home someway, little bird."

I pull back, my eyes narrowed on him. "That's not funny."

Dalton snorts from the doorway, clearly agreeing with me.

Gramps ignores us both, naturally. He's gotten good at that over the years. The older he gets, the more often he opts not to hear us. "You look different, Lena. What have you been doing up in the mountains?"

"She does look different," Dalton agrees softly, stepping deeper into the room.

My cheeks heat as they both stare at me. I tried to hide the love bites on my throat with concealer in the car. I think I did a pretty good job, so I know they can't see those. But maybe I do look different to them. I feel different. Except I'm not sure how to explain that to them. Where do I even start? My whole life changed in the mountains. It's only been a few days, but to me, it feels like I've been up there for a lifetime.

"Maybe I look different because I found myself in the mountains," I finally say. It's the truest answer I have for them. I did find myself. In Carver's arms, I realized exactly who I am and what I want, what I need, and what I crave. I'll never tell them the details—those are for me and Carver alone—but I'm not ashamed of who and what Carver and I are together. I could never, ever be ashamed of him and what we have.

"Found yourself, huh?" Gramps chuckles weakly, a glint in his eyes. "I didn't know you were lost, little bird."

"I've always been lost," I mutter—another poignant truth. And then I huff out a breath, reaching deep for a little courage. "You've always had your own ideas about my future, but they aren't mine, Gramps. My dreams have always been simple."

"Son of a bitch," Dalton growls suddenly. "You aren't staying in that fucking cabin alone, are you?"

I whip my head in his direction. "How do you…?"

"I know you," he mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face wearily. "You're talking like you found your goddamn purpose in life."

"Maybe I did," I whisper, feeling defiant. "And maybe he's exactly what I've always wanted out of life. And maybe, just maybe, I'm happier than I've ever been."

"With a mountain man?" Dalton crosses his arms, his gaze locked on my face. He doesn't seem averse to the idea though. Just…curious.

"He isn't a mountain man." I grimace. "Well, not exactly. He's a former Army Ranger. He just retired to the mountains."

"When do we get to meet him?" Gramps demands, cutting right to what he sees as the heart of the matter. "No man is taking my granddaughter unless he's worth a damn, little bird."

"You'll meet him when I'm ready. And just so we're clear, I won't let either of you run him off." My voice doesn't waver, even as their expressions shift between surprise and indignation.

"Why would you think we'd do that?" Dalton asks, his brows furrowed.

"Um, because you're overprotective and you hate love?" I retort, looking at him like he's lost his mind. "Grandfather sees marriage as a business deal. You act like it's a curse. I'm sure you'd both be thrilled if I married some boring old billionaire of your choosing or never married at all." I pause, taking a breath. "But I'm not like either of you. I want love and family and happily ever after. That's all I've ever wanted."

Dalton and my grandfather share a look I don't understand. It's almost…troubled, as if they've both just come to the same realization. And then Dalton sighs.

"You don't know us nearly as well as you think you do, baby cousin."

My brows furrow in confusion. "What does that mean?"

"Maybe there's a part of us that loves too much," Dalton says after a moment, a vulnerability in his eyes that I've never seen. "And maybe that love scares us."

"Dalton, I…" For the first time, I realize that there are hidden depths to my family that I've never noticed before, secrets that I don't know. All this time, I've thought he and Gramps were fighting because Gramps was forcing him into a marriage he didn't want…but is there more to the story? Something they've kept from me?

The way they both avoid my gaze hints that maybe there is. But as much as I want to know what it is and fix it for Dalton, I can't do that. If I learned anything in the mountains with Carver, it's that there's freedom in letting go. Perhaps Dalton needs to learn surrender, too.

God, Carver.

His image—those piercing gray eyes, that rugged, muscular body—burns bright in my mind, and I physically ache to get back to him. He's my Daddy, and I'm his little girl. I need him in every way that counts.

"Whatever secrets you're keeping, it doesn't change how I feel," I tell my grandfather and Dalton, my voice firm. "I love you both beyond reason, but I know what I want, and I won't let either of you stand in my way. Please don't make me fight you."

Gramps snorts, rolling his eyes in Dalton's direction. "You could take a page from her book, you know," he mutters, his voice rumbling with displeasure. "And actually fight for what you want when its standing right in front of you."

Dalton's jaw clenches, his glare sharp enough to cut. "Mind your own damn business, old man," he retorts, each word a bullet fired in frustration.

"Kid, you are my business," Gramps fires back, his eyes hard as steel. "When the fuck are you going to learn that? Everything I do, I do for you!"

The resulting silence is thick enough to cut as the two face off, both willful and defiant to their very cores. But it doesn't last long before Dalton breaks with a muttered curse, storming toward the door.

"Where are you going?" I cry after him.

"Home to my wife," he growls over his shoulder.

My mouth falls open, shock rippling through me. He really did it. He bowed to Gramps' wishes. I don't even know where to begin fitting those pieces into place, and I don't have time to try before Gramps reaches for my hand, patting it.

"Ignore him," he says with a tired sigh. "He'll figure it out eventually."

"Figure what out?"

"That some things in this world are worth fighting for," he says. "Even if they scare the hell out of you."

I lick my lips, meeting his gaze as memories of last night burble to the surface—of the fierce way Carver claimed me as if trying to embed himself in my soul. Of the way I begged for it, demanding more. "W-what if they don't scare you at all?"

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"What if…what if the thing I want most in this world doesn't scare me at all?" I repeat, my voice a scrap of sound as I glance down. I'm sure of Carver in a way I've never been sure of anything. Should that scare me? After last night, am I supposed to be afraid of what we are together? "What if it's the only thing that doesn't scare me?"

"Then you're far braver than you give yourself credit for, little bird." He squeezes my hand, his grip weak. "Love is terrifying, but you always have been the bravest little thing I've ever known. If it makes you happy, hold onto it with both hands and don't let go."

A sudden surge of emotion courses through me as I remember all the times Carver said something similar to me. Good girl. You're so brave for Daddy. His voice is like a phantom whisper in my ear, calling me home. And like his good little girl, I'm helpless to do anything but obey.

My grandfather is right. Maybe I should be afraid. Maybe love should be terrifying. But I'm not and it isn't because it's right. Everything about Carver is right. If there's darkness in what we are together, so be it.

I jolt up off the bed, my heart pounding. "I have to go. There's something I need to do," I murmur, reaching down to hug my grandfather. "But I'll be back tomorrow. I promise."

He grabs my hand before I can pull away. "I never wanted power or control for you, Lena. I always wanted love," he murmurs, his voice gruff with emotion. "It's what you need. It's who you are. If you've found it, good for you."

"Gramp," I whisper, tears clogging my throat.

"Fly home to it, little bird, and hold it close."