“I drew up paperwork,” she says, sliding the documents toward him on the slick metal counter.
“What the fuck are these?” An acidic hole shreds his gut as he grabs the papers. Flipping through them, he sees a DNA order. A big bold headline that says Petition for Custody.
“I didn’t ask you to draw up paperwork.” Feeling utterly numb, he scans the paragraphs of legalese. “Neglect? Unstable living situation?”
Guilt twists his heart.
Christ, if Tessie saw these. . .
Solomon exhales roughly, battling the urge to toss his sister in front of a moose. “Evelyn, you got two seconds, so talk fast.”
Blue eyes flashing, she begins. “She doesn’t have a job, Sol. You’re supporting her. How is she going to feed your son when she goes back to LA? Make it make sense. Better yet, you make a decision. Get custody; keep your son here with his family.”
“Tessie is his mother,” he grinds out. “We are his family.”
She scoffs. “Just because she’s having your child doesn’t mean you have to settle.”
Enough. Fucking enough.
“I’m gonna say it once, Evy, and I want you to hear it. First,” he says with forced calm, drawing himself up to full height so his sister takes a step back. “You bring up these papers again and we’re gonna have problems.”
Scanning the kitchen, wanting this bullshit as far away from him as possible before a hole blasts open his chest, Solomon grabs a recipe book from the counter and stuffs the papers between pages. He shuts the book and puts it on the shelf before turning his gaze, once again, to his sister.
“Second—”
Say it, Sol.
Say it.
He inhales a breath, steadying his heart. “I love Tess. I’m planning to ask her to stay in Chinook with me. I want to marry her.”
Christ.
The out-loud admission makes it that much more real. How much he wants it. How much he can’t bear to be without her.
Hurt slams into Evelyn’s big blue eyes, but then she’s recovering, so quickly that he almost thinks he’s imagined it. Then her gaze drops to his bare ring finger. And he knows. He knows it’s because he’s moving on from Serena. It hurts his sister. But Solomon refuses to feel guilty any longer. He’s paid his dues. He has Serena’s blessing. He doesn’t need Evelyn’s.
Refusing to be swayed, Evelyn crosses her arms. Juts her chin. “She shouldn’t be here. She’s not cut out for Alaska. Look at her. I bet she doesn’t even own a pair of boots or a snowsuit.”
“She doesn’t have to own a fucking snowsuit,” he snaps.
Because she’s Tessie. She’s Tessie in heels, she’s sunshine, she’s the woman he loves, and she’ll never be Serena. Evelyn will never accept her. But he won’t allow her to hurt Tessie.
His sister lowers her voice. “It’s already snowing. Does she even know how to drive in the snow? Does she know it’s twenty-four seven darkness here come January? What if she goes into labor and there’s a blizzard? What if—”
“Stop. Fuck.” Anger and panic claw at his heart. He slams a hand down on the counter. “Stop.”
Taken aback, Evelyn snaps her mouth shut.
But it’s too late. Her words twist their way into his gut, ripping open a black hole of pain. Of fear. He has a second chance to be a good man, a good husband, a good father. But does he deserve it? Does he deserve them? What if he can’t protect them?
Chinook is where Serena died. Where he brought Tessie and his son back. What if she slips, or they can’t make it to the hospital in time?
Christ, if something happened to her. . .or that baby. . .
Suddenly, he can’t get air. His pulse is a skipping record.
“Solomon?” The kitchen door pushes open, and Tessie’s there, chewing her lip. “I’m sorry to interrupt but, we, uh, have a situation with the keg.”
From the bar come the faint strains of Howler swearing bloody murder.
“I’ll go.” Evelyn turns on her heel, flapping her hand dismissively toward Tessie. “See you at the shower.”
“See you,” Tessie echoes. Then she drifts to his side, looking up at him in concern. “Solomon?”
“Let’s go home,” he says, tucking her safely under his arm, his heartbeat ramped up unsteadily in his chest.
She wrinkles her nose. “Are you sure? What about the menu?”
“I’ll finish it tomorrow.”
“What’s wrong?” A hand on his chest. “What is it?”
Solomon turns toward the window, where a flurry of white dots the sky. His hold on her tightens. “I don’t like the snow.”
It’s six by the time they make it home from the bar. A light dusting of snow fell when they were on the road, which had Solomon driving his old pickup at a geriatric speed. Practically strangling the steering wheel as he navigated the switchbacks to the cabin.
Ping.
With a tired sigh, Tessie sets her purse on the counter and sinks onto the leather couch. After giving Peggy an ear rub, she pulls out her phone.
Another text from Nova.
Time is ticking, Truelove. Say yes and make me a very happy woman.
The woman’s killing her. The job offer hangs before her like an irresistible dangle of a carrot.
Tessie feels like the worst person in the world, keeping this a secret from Solomon. Like she has an escape hatch at the ready and all she needs to do is push the evacuation button.
She knows what she’s doing. Knows it’s wrong. Keeping an out in case this goes south. So she can leave first.
She can’t wait on Solomon. He hasn’t asked her to stay. And she won’t push. She wants him to want her here.
Across the room, her Solemn Man stands at the living room window, staring into the dark. Ever since they got back to the cabin, he’s been closed up like Fort Knox. Whatever has his face looking this dark and tense, she bets it has to do with his sister. Judging by the way Evelyn was staring daggers at her stomach, their conversation in the kitchen was about her. The air in the bar chilled the second Evelyn walked in. The first disconnect she’s felt since she arrived in Chinook.
“Solomon?” she asks, watching the way the muscles shift in his back when she calls his name. “What’s wrong? Are you”—regretting us?—“okay?”
“I’m fine, Tess,” he says quietly. Then he turns from the window, crosses the space between them, and kneels in front of her. Without words, he slips off her heels and places her bare feet on his knee. Picking up one foot, he digs his thumbs into her arch.
“Feel good?” he asks.
“Hmm.” She lets her body lengthen and relax. Closing her eyes, she tips her head against the couch, relishing the firm massage of her muscles. The strength in his hands. She needs to stop wearing heels. Not like she’ll ever tell Solomon that.
“Today was too much.” Solomon’s deep, quiet voice breaks through her thoughts.
His words have her opening her eyes. His face is dark, his profile chiseled and cut in the sunset glow falling through the windows.
Tessie’s heart flips at his overprotective nature. “Solomon, I’m fine. I’m pregnant. Not made of glass.” She drops her chin and rubs her belly. “The bar is looking phenomenal. Don’t you think?”
He sits, studies her, massaging her feet with his callused thumbs. “It is. We couldn’t have done it without you.”
Pride surges inside her. His compliment warms her from the inside out. Despite being dusty and dog tired, she’s loved her time in Chinook. It feels like she’s prepping for something she was meant to do all her life.
“Don’t worry,” she says when his expression doesn’t soften. “Once we get the chalkboard wall in, I’ll let you boys do the rest of the work.”
“I worry, Tessie,” he confesses, voice low and serious. “I want to keep you safe. Protect you and Bear.”
She tilts her head, her long blond hair falling across her breast. “And you will.” When he says nothing, instead staring down at her feet in his hands, she peers at him closely. “Is this about today? Your sister?”
An unhappy grunt.
Resolutely, Tessie cuts to the chase. “She doesn’t like me.”
His jaw flexes. Anger and wariness in his gaze as he finally admits, “You’re right. She doesn’t.”