Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

B ella

When we wake the next morning, the snow outside the window feels endless, falling in thick, steady sheets that blanket the world in white. The quiet, peaceful kind of snow that should feel calming, but instead, it feels like it's closing in on me. Too much space. Too much time to think.

I turn my eyes away from the window and try to shake off the creeping doubt, but it sticks, wrapping around me like the chill in the air. Whatever happened between Archer and I last night scares me, thrills me, and makes me want to run back to the city at the same time.

That's when I hear the knock.

I frown. No one just stops by out here. It's always deliberate. And who would be out in this snowstorm anyway?

I move to the front door, curling the blanket around my shoulders before opening it, I'm greeted by a delivery guy holding a long, sleek box wrapped in expensive gold paper. My stomach drops. I know that box, that wrapping, the weight of it before I even touch it.

"Bella Fremont?" he asks, like I could be anyone else out here.

"Yeah, that's me," I mutter, taking the box, feeling the weight of it settle in my hands. I shut the door as the delivery guy walks away, but I stay standing there, staring at the box like it might explode.

I already know who it's from. The packaging, the extravagance—it screams him. My ex-boss. Always trying to worm his way back in, even from a distance.

I tear open the paper, half hoping I'm wrong, but I'm not. Inside is a necklace. Diamonds, delicate and gleaming, the kind of thing that used to make me feel important. Now, it just feels heavy. There's a note tucked inside, his handwriting as sharp and arrogant as ever.

I'll always know what you need. Come back to the city where you belong. I'll give you a raise and up your benefit package.

Anger flares up first, but right behind it, there's something worse. Doubt. It creeps in, seeping through the cracks. Maybe he's right. Maybe I don't belong here. Maybe this life I've been trying to build in Copper Mountain isn't for me.

I toss the note aside, gripping the necklace tighter, the diamonds catching the light like they're mocking me. What the hell am I doing? This kind of jewelry doesn't belong here. I don't belong here.

I should throw it out. Toss it in the snow and be done with it. But instead, I place it on the counter and just stare at it, the weight of my past pressing in harder than ever.

The sound of the floorboards creaking pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn to see Archer stepping into the kitchen, his broad frame filling the doorway. His usual grin falters the second he sees my face.

"What's wrong?" His voice is low, filled with concern, and it hits me right in the gut. He's always so steady, so sure, and right now, I feel anything but.

"Nothing," I say too quickly, too sharply. The lie hangs between us like a curtain, thin and obvious.

His eyes flick to the necklace on the counter, and I see the realization hit him, the brief flicker of something before his expression hardens. "That from him?"

I swallow, my throat tight, but I nod. What's the point in lying? He can see right through me.

Archer moves closer, his presence grounding but also terrifying. He stops in front of the counter, staring down at the necklace like it's poison. "So, he's sending gifts now?"

"Looks that way." My voice is small, weak, and I hate it. I hate how rattled this makes me, how easily my old boss can still get under my skin from miles away.

Archer doesn't say anything for a moment, just stares at the necklace, his jaw tight. Then he looks at me, his blue eyes sharp, but there's something else there too. Something vulnerable. "Do you want it?"

I blink, confused. "What?"

"Do you want it?" he repeats, his voice steady, but there's an edge to it, like he's bracing for something he doesn't want to hear.

The question feels loaded, like it's about more than just the necklace. It's about everything. About him, about the city, about the life I left behind and the one I'm trying to build here.

I shake my head, my throat tightening. "No. I don't want it. I don't want the job back and I don't want to be around him."

Archer's eyes search mine, like he's trying to decide if he believes me. "Then why haven't you thrown it out?"

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I should've tossed it out the second I saw it. So why didn't I?

"I don't know," I admit quietly, and it feels like defeat. "It's complicated."

"Is it?" he asks, his voice tinged with frustration now, simmering just beneath the surface. "Seems pretty simple to me."

I flinch, but he's not wrong. It should be simple. But nothing about this feels simple. I'm caught between two worlds—my old life, where everything made sense even though it suffocated me, and this new life, where everything is raw, real, and terrifying.

Archer steps closer, his eyes locked on mine. "Bella, if you want to go back to him, if you want that life, just say it. I won't stop you."

His words hit like a punch, and for a second, I can't breathe. "I don't—" I start, but he cuts me off.

"Because I can't compete with that," he says, his voice low, thick with something I haven't heard from him before. Insecurity. "I'm not going to fight for you if you're still half in that world."

His words sink deep, and suddenly, the necklace on the counter feels like a noose around my neck. I've been so caught up in my own fears, my own doubts, I didn't stop to think about how this must look to him. To Archer, who's been nothing but open with me, who's given me everything, and I've given him nothing but half of myself.

"Archer, it's not like that," I try, stepping toward him, but he steps back, his eyes narrowing.

"Then what is it, Bella? Because I'm standing right here, but it feels like you're still somewhere else."

The frustration in his voice cuts deep, and I hate that he's right. I've been holding back, letting the pull of my past keep me from fully stepping into this new life. Into us.

"I'm scared," I admit, the words raw and painful, but I need to say them. "I'm scared I'm not cut out for this. That I'm going to screw it all up."

Archer's expression softens just a little, but the tension is still there. "You're not going to screw it up," he says, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. "But you need to make a choice, Bella. Because I can't be in this if you're not all in."

The silence between us is thick, heavy with everything we're not saying. My eyes drift back to the necklace on the counter, and for a moment, it feels like everything. My past, my doubts, my fear. The life I left behind but haven't fully let go of.

I take a deep breath and reach for the necklace, my fingers curling around it. It's cold, hard, and as heavy as it looks. For a second, I just hold it, feeling the weight of it, the weight of everything. Then, without another thought, I toss it in the trash.

Archer watches me, his expression unreadable, but I can see the tension start to ease from his shoulders. "You sure about that?"

I meet his gaze, and for the first time in a long time, I feel certain. "Yeah. I'm sure. Fuck him." I blink away painful memories of my time managing the luxury hotel in the city–the sexual advances from David that I had to dodge nearly every day. Evading his gaze, avoiding being in the same room alone with him…it was all above and beyond my comfort level but I did it because the money was good and the benefits better. It's the not first time David has given me jewelry, he claimed to do it for all the people he worked closely with, he was always generous with holiday bonuses and work trips–and I always took the expensive jewelry immediately to the pawn shop and exchanged it for cash. At first I thought David was a great boss, but with time I realized accepting the jewelry came with a price. A price that I wasn't willing to pay.

Archer steps forward, his hand sliding around my waist, pulling me closer. "I'm glad you threw it away, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and rough, but there's something soft in it too. "Because I'm not letting you go that easily."

I lean into him, letting his warmth chase away the lingering doubts. But even as I rest my head against his chest, I know this isn't over. The pull of my past isn't going to disappear overnight. But for now, in this moment, I'm choosing him.

And maybe, just maybe, that's enough.