Chapter Sixteen: Henry

"Well, they are in bed, but I don't know if they will sleep," Samantha said as she came downstairs and entered the kitchen, where Henry was just finishing the dishes. "And if they do, they will dream of tree houses."

"That's not a bad thing to dream about," Henry said.

"No, it's not." She lingered by the door, running her fingers across the countertop.

"I thought we could finish the bottle of wine we started at dinner while watching the sun go down from the porch." Henry put the last dish away and dried his hands on a towel before he turned to face her, a hopeful smile playing on his lips.

"That sounds like the perfect end to a perfect evening," Samantha replied, her eyes meeting Henry's.

He couldn't think of a more perfect way for the evening to end…

Or not end, his bear said dreamily.

Or not end, Henry agreed. Yes, he'd like the evening to turn into night. A night filled with his mate in his arms. In his bed.

But Henry knew he needed to take things slow. Samantha was still adjusting to life in their small town, and her children were just beginning to feel settled. The last thing he wanted was to rush her or make her uncomfortable.

And then there was Samantha's deceased husband. He was still a part of their lives, and Henry wasn't sure Samantha was ready to move on.

Not yet. But he was willing to wait for her. And it would be worth every minute. Every second.

"Great," Henry said, reaching for the half-empty bottle of wine and two glasses.

Samantha followed Henry out onto the porch, the wooden boards creaking softly under their feet. "This is the most perfect spot."

"It is," Henry replied. "When I decided to build a cabin on the ranch, I gave it a lot of consideration."

"You chose this spot?" Samantha accepted the wine he'd poured and took a sip.

"I did." Henry nodded, leaning against the porch railing. "I spent weeks hiking all over the property, trying to find just the right place. But really, I think I always knew this was exactly where I wanted to live."

"Because of the oak tree?" she asked as she joined him at the porch rail looking out at the tree and the mountains beyond.

"Because of the oak tree," he said and then chuckled nervously. "Most people choose a place to build based on the sunrise or sunset. Maybe because of the shelter provided by trees, or ease of access…"

Henry trailed off, his gaze drifting to the majestic oak, silhouetted against the fading light of dusk. "But this tree...it spoke to me somehow. It's been here for generations, watching over this land. I felt like it was inviting me to be a part of its story. Or perhaps I hoped it might become part of my story…"

Samantha followed his line of sight. "I think that's a wonderful reason to pick a spot to build a house."

"Really?" Heat crept across his cheeks and he was thankful for the gathering dusk that hid his blushes. "Because it kind of sounds silly when you say it out loud."

"No." Samantha placed her hand on his arm and he closed his eyes briefly at the jolt of recognition. "Not at all. It's...poetic."

Henry found himself lost in her gaze for a moment. Clearing his throat, he turned back to the view. "Well, I'm glad you approve. It means a lot to me that you and the kids like it here."

Samantha nodded, taking another sip of her wine. "We do. And the treehouse and the secret garden have given them something positive to focus on. Tilly was nervous about starting over here."

"It can't be easy, moving to a new place after everything you've been through."

Samantha's eyes misted slightly as she gazed out at the darkening landscape. "It was like we were letting go of their dad. Leaving the house…memories behind. I was scared we'd lose her to her books even more."

Henry nodded, understanding the weight of her words. He gently placed his hand over hers, offering a comforting touch. "Sometimes, letting go is the hardest part of moving forward," he said. "But it doesn't mean forgetting."

Samantha turned to look at him, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. "You're right. And I think being here, surrounded by all this natural beauty, and kindness, is helping us heal in ways I didn't expect."

"If there's one thing I know, it's that these mountains have a way of healing people." Henry's gaze swept over the landscape before them. "There's something about the quiet strength of the land that puts things into perspective."

Samantha nodded, taking a deep breath. "I can feel that. It's like the mountains carry the weight of time, making our troubles seem smaller in comparison."

They stood in companionable silence for a moment as the night creatures came out, one by one. An owl hooted in the distance, while an acrobatic bat flew past, and small animals rustled the aspen leaves that gathered around the cabin.

"You know," Samantha said, breaking the silence, "I never thought I'd feel at home anywhere else. But there's something about this place...about you and your family...that makes me feel like we belong here."

Henry turned to face her, his eyes searching hers. "I'm glad you feel that way," he said. "Because I want you to belong here. You and the kids."

Samantha leaned slightly toward him as if drawn by an invisible force. "Henry, I..."

Just then, a cool breeze swept across the porch, and Samantha shivered. Henry instinctively moved closer to his mate.

"Are you cold?" Henry asked, his voice laced with concern. Without waiting for an answer, he gently wrapped an arm around Samantha's shoulders, pulling her closer to his side.

Offering her his bodily heat. And so much more.

"Thank you." She nestled closer, her soft curves against his hard-toned muscles.

"You know," Henry murmured, "there's an old legend about that oak tree."

Samantha lifted her head from his shoulder, her interest piqued. "Really? What kind of legend?"

Henry smiled, his arm still comfortably wrapped around her shoulders. "Well, the story goes that long ago, a young couple from warring clans fell in love. They would meet in secret beneath that very oak tree."

"How romantic." Samantha sighed, leaning into Henry.

"It gets better," Henry continued, his voice taking on a storyteller's cadence. "Legend has it that one night, as the lovers met beneath the oak, their clans discovered them. But before any harm could come to the couple, the tree branches reached down and embraced them, shielding them from harm. When the angry clan members finally left, the tree released the lovers, but not before blessing their union."

Samantha gazed up at Henry, captivated by the tale. "And what happened to them?"

"They say the couple went on to unite the clans, bringing peace to the valley. And the founding of Bear Creek."

"Really?"

"Well, I might have elaborated a little," Henry said. "Though I'm sure the actual history is a bit more complicated. But I like to think there's some truth to it."

Samantha smiled, her eyes drifting back to the majestic oak. "It's a beautiful story. No wonder you felt drawn to this spot."

"Yeah," Henry murmured, his gaze following hers. "I believe the tree is still watching over us, you know? Offering its protection and blessings. And so I built my house here so I could watch over it."

"You did?" Samantha asked.

She's not sure if you are elaborating about that, too, his bear told him.

"I did," Henry said.

"Because that's the kind of man you are." Samantha's eyes locked with his and it was as if she were staring into his soul. "Always watching over others, protecting them."

Henry felt a rush of emotion at her words. "I try," he said, his voice husky. "It's important to me, taking care of the people and things that matter to me."

"I can see why you became a firefighter," Samantha said.

Henry nodded, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "It's more than just a job for me. It's a calling. Every time I put on that uniform, I feel like I'm living up to the legacy of this land, this tree—protecting it and its people."

Samantha turned to face him fully, her eyes filled with admiration. "That's beautiful, Henry."

As they stood there, Henry felt a sudden surge of courage. He gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind Samantha's ear, his fingers lingering for a moment on her cheek.

"Samantha," Henry said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want you to know that my desire to protect and care for others...it extends to you and your children, too. I hope you can feel that."

Samantha nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I do feel it, Henry. Every day since we've been here. You've made us feel so welcome, so...safe."

"It's my job to protect you," Henry replied. "To make sure you are safe, that you are happy, and…"

"We are not your responsibility," Samantha reminded him, and her words cut into him. Because they were his responsibility, and it was time she knew the truth. "Your job as a firefighter doesn't mean you have to…"

"I didn't mean that job ," Henry blurted.

Job is the wrong word, his bear said. Tell her about the mating bond. Tell her what she is to us.

But as he looked into her confused eyes, he was not sure Samantha was ready to hear the truth.

"You mean your job here on the ranch?" Samantha asked as she tried to understand his words.

Henry hesitated, realizing he'd ventured into dangerous territory. He might not be ready to reveal the full truth about shifters and mates, but he couldn't bear to mislead her either.

"Not exactly," he said carefully. "I mean...it's more personal than that. You and your kids, you're important to me. Not because of any job or obligation, but because..."

He trailed off, searching for the right words. Samantha's brow furrowed slightly as she waited for him to continue.

"Because I care about you," Henry finally said.

"I care about you, too," she said, her voice husky as she raised her hand, hesitating for a moment before she cupped his face in her palm.

Henry stiffened, his surprise evident as Samantha pulled away. "I'm sorry…"

"No, don't be." He reached out and curled his fingers around her wrist. "Please, don't be."

"I'm out of practice at reading the signs," she said. "Or mis reading them."

She ducked her head and avoided his eyes. Henry let go of her hand and slipped it under her chin, tilting her face up to his.

"You did not misread them," Henry said. "Not at all."

Samantha's eyes widened, a mix of hope and uncertainty swirling in their depths. "I didn't?"

"No." Henry gently caressed her cheek with his thumb. "You read them perfectly. Samantha, I... I've been trying to take things slow, to give you and the kids time to adjust. But I've been drawn to you since the moment we met."

A soft gasp escaped Samantha's lips. "Henry, I..."

"You don't have to say anything," he blurted. "I know you've been through a lot, and I don't want to pressure you. I just...I wanted you to know how I feel."

Samantha's eyes searched his face, her expression a mix of vulnerability and longing. "Henry, I... I've felt it, too. This connection between us. But I've been scared to acknowledge it. To let myself feel..."

Henry nodded, wanting her to know he understood how hard this was for her. "It's okay to be scared. We can take this as slow as you need."

"It's not just about me," Samantha's eyes drifted toward the house where her children slept. "Tilly and Lewis, they've been through so much already. I have to think about how this would affect them."

Henry nodded, his expression serious. "Of course. They're your priority, as they should be. And I want you to know that I care about them, too. Whatever happens between us, it won't change how I feel about your kids."

"You're so good with them. The way you've welcomed them, made them feel at home here...it means more than I can say," Samantha said, her voice thick with emotion.

Henry squeezed her hand gently. "They're amazing kids. And you're an incredible mother. I admire how you've held everything together for them."

Samantha took a shaky breath. "It hasn't been easy. There are days when I feel like I'm barely keeping my head above water."

"You don't have to do it alone anymore," Henry whispered. "I'm here."

"I know you are." Then she licked her lips, and he held his breath as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.