“Yes, but—”
“Mostly, though,” Kristi said smugly, “if you leave, you let Sam think you were too afraid to stay in your own home.”
Oh, she didn’t like the sound of that at all. Plus, the truth was, Lacy didn’t want to move. She loved her cabin. She loved her job. She loved the mountain. She loved Sam, damn it.
“Can your head actually explode?” she wondered aloud.
“I hope not,” Kristi said solemnly. “Now, why don’t we go out for dinner or something? Get your mind off my idiot—er, brother.”
Lacy smiled as she’d been meant to, but shook her head. “No thanks. I just want to stay home and bury my head under a pillow.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Kristi pushed up from the chair. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Lacy got up, too, and wrapped her friend in a tight hug. “Thanks. For everything.”
“You bet. This’ll work out, Lacy. You’ll see.” There was a knock at the door and Kristi asked, “Want me to get that and send whoever it is away?”
“God, yes. Thanks.”
Kristi opened the door and Lacy heard Sam’s voice say “I want to talk to her.”
“Surprise,” Kristi shot back, “she doesn’t want to talk to you.”
Lacy groaned and went to face Sam because she couldn’t put siblings at war over her. It was too soon, was all she could think. It had only been a few hours since that horrible scene at the top of the mountain. She needed a day or two or a hundred before she was willing to speak to Sam again. Yet it seemed fate didn’t care about what she needed.
“It’s okay, Kristi, I’ll handle it.”
“You sure?” Her friend’s eyes narrowed in concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Of course she wasn’t, but she wouldn’t give Sam the satisfaction of knowing just how off balance she was with him here. She would be calm. Cool. Controlled, damn it!
“Okay, I’ll leave,” Kristi announced with a glare at Sam. “But I won’t be far. Idiot.”
“Thanks,” he said wryly, “that’s nice.”
“Be grateful Lacy made me promise not to kick you,” she called back over her shoulder.
Lacy watched him give his sister a dirty look, then grit his teeth as he turned around to face the door. Sadly, she didn’t have enough time to slam it shut before he slapped one palm to it and held it open.
He was still wearing the black jacket and jeans. His dark hair still looked windblown and completely touchable. His eyes were shadowed, his mouth grim, and in spite of everything, her heart leaped and her body hummed with a desire that would probably never end. Mind and heart were at war inside her, but for her own good, for the sake of her baby, she had to be strong.
Behind him, she saw the soft, dying streaks of sunlight spearing through the pines. The dark green stalks of soon-to-bloom daffodils popped up all over her yard and the last of the snow lay in dwindling, dirty mounds.
“Lacy, you had your say on the mountain,” Sam told her, dragging her gaze to his. “At least hear me out now.”
“Why should I?”
He looked at her for a few long seconds, then admitted, “I can’t think of a single damn reason. Do it anyway.”
* * *
Sam walked into the main room and took a moment to gather himself. He looked around at the familiar space, the comfortable furnishings, the hominess of it all and felt his heart ease. Funny, he’d spent most of his life thinking of the mountain as home. But it was this place. It was Lacy.
Wherever she was, that was his home. He only hoped she would take him back.
An invisible fist tightened around his heart and gave a vicious squeeze. Was she still so furious she wouldn’t listen to him? Wouldn’t let him fix this? What could have been panic scratched at his guts, but he shoved it down, ignored it. He wouldn’t fail at this, the most important thing he’d ever done. He’d make her listen. Make her understand and then make her admit she loved him, damn it.
Lacy walked into the room behind him, but stopped three feet away. She crossed her arms over her chest, lifted her chin in what could only be a fighting stance and said, “Say what you came to say, then leave.”
She’d been crying. Her lashes were still wet, her face was flushed and her mouth trembled even as she made an attempt to firm it. Bastard, he thought, bringing her to this, and if he could have punched himself in the face, he would have. But it wouldn’t have solved anything.