Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

F inn

The late afternoon sun filters through the trees, dappling the porch in golden light. Shep sprawls out in his usual spot, tongue lolling, his tail swishing lazily whenever Tessa glances his way. I sit in the chair I’ve claimed as mine, one leg stretched out, the other bent, resting my elbow on my knee. I’m nursing a cold beer, but my attention isn’t on the bottle. It’s on her.

She’s kneeling by the new flowerbed I built, her fingers working the soil as she carefully places the last daffodil into the earth. The curve of her neck as she leans forward, the way her hair falls loose over her shoulder, the soft hum of contentment she doesn’t realize she’s making—it’s all so achingly beautiful, it ties my gut into knots.

She looks up, catching me staring, and arches a brow. “You planning to help, or is that beer too heavy to put down?”

I smirk, lifting the bottle in mock salute. “Supervising. It’s an important job.”

“Supervising,” she repeats, rolling her eyes. “You’re lucky Shep’s here to protect me from your so-called help.”

At the sound of his name, Shep lets out a lazy bark, wagging his tail as if to agree. I chuckle and tip back my beer, savoring the way she makes me feel—light, alive, like all the weight I’ve carried for years isn’t so heavy anymore.

Once she’s done, Tessa brushes the dirt off her hands and stands, her eyes lingering on the flowerbed. “It’s perfect,” she murmurs, and there’s something in her voice that makes my chest tighten. Pride? Relief? Maybe both.

“Of course it is,” I say, standing and stretching. “I built it.”

She snorts, turning to face me. “Modest, aren’t you?”

“Always,” I tease, taking a step closer. “But you’ve got to admit, I’ve got skills.”

Her lips twitch, like she’s trying not to smile. “Fine. You’ve got skills. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” I take another step, closing the distance between us. She doesn’t back away, but her hands fidget at her sides. It’s a tell of hers I’ve come to recognize—when she’s fighting to keep her composure, to pretend I don’t rattle her as much as she rattles me.

We fall into a comfortable silence, the kind that feels natural when she’s around. It’s rare for me to feel this way—like I don’t have to say or do anything to prove myself. With her, I can just be.

But something nags at me, a weight that’s been sitting on my chest since earlier today. I run a hand through my hair, hesitating before I finally speak. “You know, I’ve seen a lot of pain since the time I left this mountain.”

Her gaze sharpens, her teasing smile fading as she tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

I lean against the porch railing, staring out at the Phantom River glinting in the distance. “When my parents divorced, it was... ugly. My mom dragged me to Vegas, away from my dad, from this place. I hated it. Her wild life, the men she brought around, the way she tried to pretend everything was fine—it was a mess.”

Tessa doesn’t say anything, but I feel her eyes on me, warm and steady. It gives me the courage to keep going.

“When I turned seventeen, I couldn’t take it anymore. I quit high school, got my GED, and joined the military. It was the only escape I could see. And for a while, it worked. I had a purpose, friends who felt like family—Barron and King Steele, Ridge and Slate Warner.” I glance at her, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “Good men.”

She nods, her expression soft. “You must’ve seen a lot.”

“More than I care to remember,” I admit, my voice rough. “When I retired, there was only one place I wanted to be. Coming back here felt like coming home, even though my dad was already gone. It’s the only place I ever felt happy... felt like myself.”

Tessa steps closer, her fingers brushing mine. “I’m glad you came back,” she says softly. “This mountain... it has a way of healing, doesn’t it?”

I nod, swallowing hard. “It does. And in hindsight... I think it was you that brought me back. Life leading me to you, to this—just waiting for the right timing.”

Her eyes widen slightly, and a blush creeps into her cheeks. “Finn?—”

“Don’t,” I interrupt, my voice firmer than I intended. “Don’t downplay it, Tessa. You’ve changed everything.”

Her lips part, but before she can respond, Shep barks and trots over, nudging her leg with his nose. She laughs, bending down to scratch behind his ears. “Your dog has a knack for interrupting serious moments, doesn’t he?”

“He’s got good timing,” I say, watching the way she smiles at Shep, the way he looks up at her like she hung the moon. “He and I have just been waiting for you to make your return. Didn’t expect it in the form of a neighbor from hell, though.”

She straightens, grabbing a daffodil from the flowerbed and tossing it at me. “You deserved every complaint, and you know it.”

“Maybe,” I concede, catching the flower and twirling it between my fingers. “But you’ve got to admit, we make a good team.”

The teasing fades, replaced by something heavier, something more real. I step closer, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. Her breath catches, and I can’t help but savor the way she looks at me—like I’m not just a gruff miner with a rough past, but someone worth knowing, worth loving.

“Tessa,” I murmur, my fingers trailing down to cup her cheek. “You’ve turned my whole damn world upside down.”

She blinks, her eyes glistening. “You’ve done the same for me.”

I lean in, my lips brushing against her temple, then her cheek, before finally capturing her mouth in a kiss. It’s slow and tender, a far cry from the sarcastic banter and fiery tension that usually defines us. This kiss is something else entirely—a promise, a declaration, a quiet surrender.

When we finally pull apart, she rests her forehead against mine, her hands clutching the front of my shirt. “I’ve never felt like this before,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” I say, my tone rough with emotion. “Because neither have I.”

She smiles, and for the first time in years, I feel like I’ve found my place—not in the mine, not in the isolation of my cabin, but right here, with this woman in my arms.