Under the Northern Lights

by S. C. Stephens

  But still . . . what if he didn’t miss me like I missed him? What if he didn’t want me to show up unexpectedly? If, if, if . . . I was really sick of that word.

  Patricia carried my bags to her car, then unceremoniously dropped them on the ground. “Hey,” I told her. “My camera is in there.” Still in a box, still unopened, but packed and ready for Michael.

  She smirked at me as she unlocked her car. “Sorry, I guess I . . .”

  Her voice trailed off as we both stopped to watch a bright-yellow taxi driving down my long gravel driveway. What the hell? I hadn’t called for a taxi to the airport. Nor would I. That trip was pricey. Confused, I watched the car stop right in front of me. The rear door opened, and I sucked in a breath, positive I was dreaming. Michael . . . was here.

  Everything I was holding fell to the ground with a heavy thud. He was here. I could only watch in stunned silence as Michael grabbed a duffel bag from the driver, then paid him a thick wad of cash. The cab began turning around to leave, and I was still gaping.

  “Mal? Who is that?” I heard my sister ask. I couldn’t respond. Michael’s clear blue eyes were locked on mine. His dark-brown hair was longer, scragglier, and his beard was in desperate need of another trim. He hadn’t been keeping up on his grooming with me gone. Of course, he lived alone, his only companion the occasional animal wandering through the forest, so why would he? What was he doing here?

  He took a tentative step toward me, then stopped. “Mallory? You’re probably wondering why I’m . . .” He glanced to my sister, swallowed, then returned his eyes to mine.

  Taking him in . . . the lean, chiseled body; the rough, rugged exterior; the carefully hidden scars, both outer and inner . . . our time together hit me like a tidal wave, nearly knocking me over. All the fear, all the comfort, all the confusion, heartache, and disappointment. All the love.

  Shaking my head in disbelief, I flung myself into his arms, wrapped myself around his body, and quickly found his mouth. My lips worked furiously over his like I was drowning and he was air. He kissed me back just as desperately, clearly conveying his loneliness without a single word.

  In the background, I vaguely heard my sister say, “I’m assuming this is Michael?” When we didn’t pause to acknowledge her, she chuckled, then said, “I’ll just let you two get . . . reacquainted. It was nice to kind of meet you, Michael.” I felt him raise a hand in greeting, but his lips never left mine.

  My heart was swelling with love and happiness as I heard my sister’s car pull away. He was here. He chose me. Was he staying? God, please let him stay . . .

  Finally, knowing we’d need to talk at some point, I pulled back to search his face. “You’re here? Why are you . . . ? How are you . . . ?” I shook my head. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “I . . .” His eyes drifted from my face to the bags littering the ground. “Are you leaving?” When his eyes returned to mine, they were laced with concern.

  My smile was uncontainable. “I was going to you. I was done being without you, so I was going to hire a plane and show up at your door.”

  Michael’s face broke into my favorite grin. “I guess I beat you to it.”

  Biting my lip, I hesitantly asked him what this meant for me, for us. “Does that mean . . . ? Are you . . . staying . . . with me?”

  His eyes lowered; then he peeked up at me through his lashes. “If you’ll have me . . . yes, I’d like to stay with you.”

  I was floored, stunned, shocked with happiness. “I thought . . . what about living among people again? I thought you were done with that?”

  He sighed, then tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I thought I was, too, until I tried living without you. I think I’d rather live in the center of a bustling city than spend one more day without you in my life.” He cupped my cheek as his voice intensified. “I can’t spend another day apart from you, Mallory. I love you.”

  My eyes watered, and my chest swelled. “I love you too.”

  Michael’s eyes were a swirling mixture of emotion—joy, fatigue, relief. He seemed like a man who’d finally had a tremendous weight lifted from his shoulders, and he almost didn’t know how to handle the lightness. “Let’s get all this stuff inside . . . since neither one of us is going anywhere.”

  I was giddy as I began grabbing bags. Michael helped me, then stopped when he reached down for a case that was suspiciously shaped like a chainsaw. “What is this?” he asked, looking up at me.

  “A gift . . . for you,” I demurely said.

  His eyes returned to the tool. “You were bringing me a chainsaw?” he asked, his voice still sounding stupefied.

  “Yes . . . I wasn’t spending another winter out there without one. In fact, I was trying to figure out how to get a snowmobile to your place, too, because you spend entirely too much time walking back and forth to your traps.”

  Michael’s eyes were filled to the brim with love and affection when he looked over at me. “What did I do to deserve you?” he asked.

  “I asked myself that a lot after you found me.” I touched my fingers to my necklace, saying a quick thank-you to the heavens for returning him to me.

  Michael tracked the movement, then smiled . . . and nodded, like he completely understood my gesture and agreed. It made my heart thump even faster, and I practically scurried to get our things inside my house.

  Once we were in my living room, and Michael had been briefly introduced to my three barking beasts, I tossed my arms around his neck and kissed him. I never wanted to stop now, and from the way Michael kissed me back, I could tell he felt the same. Pulling on his neck, I led him to my bedroom, then closed the door behind us. My dogs instantly complained. They could complain all they wanted, though—I wanted to be alone with my man, a man I never thought I’d have in my home, a man I’d been about to give up everything for. Because what was it without him?

  Without another word, Michael and I began undressing each other. Once we were bare, we fell onto my bed. Michael kissed every inch of me, cherishing me. He stopped at the scar on my leg, the lingering reminder of the crash that had brought us together. Leaning down, he placed a reverent kiss there, then placed his cheek upon it and closed his eyes. He almost looked like he was saying a quick prayer, and a smile erupted over me.

  “I love you,” I said, running a hand down his exposed cheek.

  Opening his eyes, he looked up at me. “I love you too. So much. And I’m so grateful . . . to be able to feel that way again. I didn’t realize how empty I was until you . . . crashed into me.” Lifting his body, he settled over me, then lowered his lips to mine. “I don’t ever want to feel that empty again.”

  He slid into me then, and I closed my eyes as the euphoria of the moment filled me. Clasping our hands tight, we began to slowly move together, intensifying everything we felt for each other. Love washed over me in waves, escalating with each pass, and as I was filled to the brim with emotion, I began to wonder if I’d been empty too. All my life I’d been searching for truth, for meaning, for a deeper connection to the world around me. And I’d found it in the middle of nowhere, with a man who hadn’t wanted any sort of connection to anything. He’d completed me, and I’d opened him.

  The buildup grew to something intense and profound, and an explosion of life and beauty coursed through me, vibrating every nerve ending. I’d never felt so alive, so connected, so much a part of something vastly bigger than this mortal coil I was bound to. I squeezed Michael tight as the ecstasy flooded me. He reached his apex, holding me just as tightly, and together we transcended time and space . . . a brief moment of endless, perfect bliss.

  We clutched each other for long moments before we separated, and joyful tears were in my eyes when we did. Michael brushed them away with his thumb, then kissed my eyelids. His beard tickled my face, and I giggled as I tugged on it. “We’re going to have to cut this soon.”

  Michael laughed and ran a hand through it. “Yeah, I figured I’d just shave it off, since I don’t ne
ed it here.”

  A lump suddenly appeared in my throat. “Does that mean you’re not going back?” You’re not going to run away on me?

  Smiling softly, Michael ran his fingers along my cheek. “I might go up there to hunt on occasion, but only if you come with me. I don’t want to be somewhere you’re not.”

  Grinning, I leaned up to kiss him. “Good. I was kind of hoping you’d keep the cabin as a getaway. I’d love to pick up photography again, and it’s the perfect spot for my annual trip. Or maybe it could be a semiannual trip now.”

  Michael’s face was serene as he looked at me. “However often you like, Mallory.”

  He pulled me over so my head was lying on his chest, and I reveled in the steady thump of his heart under my ear. “For a long time when I got back . . . I never thought I’d get to feel this again. Feel you again.” Propping myself up on my elbows, I looked up at his face. “So are you really going to be okay living here most of the year? Are you really ready to give humanity another chance?”

  His lips pursed in thought. “I might have been . . . too unforgiving.” He briefly closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, they were filled with regret. “Do you remember the story I told you? About the way my wife died?”

  Confused, I bunched my brows. “Yes.”

  “Well, I realized . . . when I let you walk away, I was doing the same thing as all those people who’d refused to help my wife . . . refused to get involved. I’d walked away, leaving a woman to bleed out alone. Only in this case, I was the one who’d made the lethal cut too.” He sighed, then shook his head. “I hurt you, then refused to change out of pride, stubbornness . . . fear. I’ve decided to give the world another chance . . . for you.”

  I was touched by his willingness to change, but a little scared too. “It won’t be perfect. And if you expect it to be, you’ll be let down. Because people are just what you said they were—crazy.”

  He gave me a carefree smile. “I know, but I have faith it will turn out okay in the end.”

  I blinked in surprise. “Really? You have faith?”

  Michael laughed, then nodded. “You crash-landed in my backyard. And survived. And cared for me, a loner in the woods. You pulled me back to civilization . . . restored my hope in humanity. What else could I have but faith?”

  His finger traced my necklace, a peaceful smile on his lips. I leaned over to kiss him, happy that he finally felt that peace—that he was finally healing from the senseless tragedy that had ripped his life apart.

  Our tender kiss lingered for long seconds; then a thought popped into my mind. Pulling back, I asked, “Did you get any of my letters?”

  Biting his lip, he nodded. “On my way out of town.”

  I tilted my head. “On your way . . . out . . . of town?”

  His grin grew. “Yeah, I was already on my way to you. I was already done missing you. I read them all on the plane, Mallory, and every word . . . meant so much to me. It helped me . . . get through the chaos of so many people suddenly around me. Thank you for that.”

  “You’re welcome. It took me far too long to think of that way to contact you.” Thinking of something else, I sheepishly asked, “Did you . . . get anything else?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You mean a letter from my dad? Yeah, several of them. And a package containing a lot of cash, along with a note telling me that I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I let you get away. I guess you made quite an impression on him.”

  I couldn’t help but cringe. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want me to contact him, but I had to let him know you were okay. I knew how hard it was . . . to not know.”

  He stroked my cheek, alleviating my guilt. “It’s all right, Mallory. I’m glad you called him. And his letters . . . they touched me too. In fact, second thing tomorrow, I think I’ll give him a call. Let him know . . . I’m home.”

  My cheeks flushed at hearing him call Cedar Creek home, but something he’d said was tugging at my curiosity. “The second thing you’re going to do tomorrow? What’s the first thing?”

  Pulling me all the way on top of him, he crooked a smile. “For the first thing . . . I’d really like to do that again with you.”

  Giggling, I kissed him. “I think that can be arranged.” All day, every day . . . wherever Michael was, that was where I wanted to be too. We were meant to be, destiny. My prayers had been answered: I’d not only survived a seemingly hopeless situation, but I’d saved someone else from his own hopeless situation. I’d met my soul mate—then I’d been allowed to keep him. In this crazy, messed-up, beautiful world, Michael and I were being given our happily ever after, and we would never take that miracle for granted.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First off, I want to thank everyone who took a chance and picked up this book. I am so in love with this story! My heart bleeds for these characters, and I’m sure yours will too. Thank you so much for being a part of their journey.

  A huge thank-you to my superagent, Kristyn Keene of ICM Partners, who has always been so patient, supportive, and encouraging. I would be lost in this publishing world without you! Hugs all around to everyone at Montlake Romance / Amazon Publishing. Touring your offices and getting to meet all of you in person was so much fun! And a special thank-you to Lauren Plude and Lindsey Faber for all your help and support on this book. It has been a pleasure working with you, and I can’t wait to collaborate again!

  To all the blogs, readers, and authors who have supported me over the years—from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much! Your continued love and support blow me away. Special thank-yous to T. Gephart, Monica James, Sunniva Dee, K. A. Linde, Nicky Charles, R. K. Lilley, J. Sterling, Rebecca Donovan, A. M. Madden, Katie Ashley, Michelle Mankin, Lori, Becky, Julie, Madison, Lysa, Hang, Aim, Charleen, Nicky, Emilie, KP, Amy, Tina, Nicole, Jenny, Diksha, Kristina, Ellie, Karen, Mindy, and so many more that I don’t have room to mention you! Thank you for the help—thank you for the love!

  And lastly, to my family, thank you so much for loving me unconditionally—quirks and all. I know I am forever loved, and that is the best feeling in the world.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © Tarra Ellis Photography

  S.C. Stephens is a bestselling author who enjoys spending every free moment creating stories that are packed with emotion and heavy on romance. Her debut novel, Thoughtless, an angst-filled love story featuring insurmountable passion and the unforgettable Kellan Kyle, took the world of romance by storm in 2009. Stephens has been writing nonstop ever since.

  In addition to writing, Stephens enjoys spending lazy afternoons in the sun reading fabulous novels, loading up her iPod with writer’s block–reducing music, heading out to the movies, and spending quality time with her friends and family. She currently resides in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her two equally beautiful children.