He looked away from her, out into the darkness. Goose shoved his head between the seats. He found himself rubbing the dog’s ear. “After the anger wore off, I was ashamed of myself. I couldn’t believe I’d let myself get that far away from who I wanted to be, and I had no words.”

“For ten years.”

He drew in a breath. “Your letters stopped coming—”

“Three years I wrote. Every month. More at the beginning.”

“When you stopped, I figured you’d moved on.”

She looked away. “I probably should have.”

Oh. His jaw tightened, a terrible searing in his chest. “No, I won’t marry you.” The moment in the truck flashed back, and he was again staring at her, going numb.

“Listen. I’m glad we’re friends again. I’m thankful that you’ve forgiven me. And I love you too. But I’ve been thinking about what you said, back before the storm. About going after your dreams.” She pulled on her mittens.

No, it was not going to end this way. “Stop.”

“I’m proud of you. You’re a real hero, just like I always thought you were. Go, live your dreams.”

“Echo!”

“Listen, like I said, I have a headlamp. And Goose. I’ll be okay.”

“But I won’t!” He didn’t know where that came from—maybe the words he should have said so long ago. He softened his voice, not wanting to scare her. Or himself, frankly, but, “I won’t be okay.” He scrubbed his hands down his face, then turned to her, trying to keep his voice even. “I read every single letter you wrote to me so many times I could recite them.” His throat thickened. “My dad was right. I came back for you, E. And I’m not going to lose you again.”

She was just tired, and maybe he was too. They weren’t thinking clearly.

Her gaze was on him, her eyes wide. “Oh, Dodge, you don’t have to prove anything to me.”

Maybe not. Maybe he needed to prove something to himself.

He was here to stay, thank you. With the woman he loved. And he let that thought slide in, cement. “Please come home with me. Tomorrow, I’ll plow you out and bring you home.”

He was about to back out when barking erupted out of the darkness. The headlights illuminated an animal bounding through the snow, a gray-black blur that danced through the headlights.

“It’s Granite!” She looked at Dodge. “He heard the truck. And if I leave, he’ll just keep looking for me.”

He gave her a look, stymied.

“I’ll be fine, I promise. I don’t need babysitting.”

Of course she was right. Still—

“I need to check on my dad. I’m sure he’s worried sick about me too.”