Updated Nov 7, 2025 • ~8 min read
Building a cabin from the ground up was harder than Briar had imagined.
“I thought this would be romantic,” she panted, helping Magnus lift another beam into place. “Like one of those home renovation shows where everything just… happens.”
“Those shows are lies.” Magnus positioned the beam, muscles straining. “Hold it steady while I secure it.”
They’d been working on the foundation for three weeks. Pete and Derek helped on weekends, but during the week it was just the two of them, slowly transforming the clearing into the bones of their future home.
Briar had blisters on her hands and ached in muscles she didn’t know existed. But watching the cabin take shape, seeing their dream become real—it made every sore muscle worth it.
“You’re getting good at this,” Magnus said, inspecting her work on a support post. “That’s perfect.”
“I have a good teacher.” Briar wiped sweat from her forehead. “Though I’m pretty sure you’re letting me do the easy stuff.”
“I’m letting you do the stuff that won’t kill you if you mess up.” But he was smiling. “Give it time. By the end of summer, you’ll be framing walls like a pro.”
They broke for lunch, sitting on the partially completed floor, looking out at the view that would soon be from their living room windows.
“I still can’t believe this is ours,” Briar said softly. “That we’re actually building a home together.”
“Believe it.” Magnus squeezed her hand. “By fall, we’ll have walls and a roof. By winter, we’ll be living here.”
“It’s going to be beautiful.”
“It already is.” But Magnus was looking at her, not the cabin.
“Sap.”
“Always.” He pulled her in for a kiss that tasted like sawdust and sweat and home.
That evening, back at Magnus’s current cabin, Briar found him on the porch, staring into the forest with a troubled expression.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, settling beside him.
“Just thinking.” Magnus was quiet for a moment. “About my father. About the cabin he built for my mother.”
Briar waited, sensing he needed to talk through this.
“He built her a house as a wedding gift. Told her it was proof of his love, that he’d made her a home.” Magnus’s voice was hollow. “But then he used it as a prison. Wouldn’t let her leave, said she was ungrateful if she wanted to go anywhere without him. The house became another way to control her.”
“Magnus—”
“What if I’m doing the same thing?” He turned to her, his eyes dark with fear. “Building you a cabin, tying you to this mountain. What if I’m just trapping you in a prettier cage?”
“Hey.” Briar took his face in her hands, making him look at her. “You are nothing like your father. Nothing.”
“How do you know?”
“Because your father built your mother a house and told her she couldn’t leave it. You’re building us a home and keep asking if I’m sure I want to stay.” Her voice was fierce. “Because he used love as a weapon to control. And you use love as a foundation to support. Those are completely different things.”
“But the bond—the claiming—doesn’t that tie you here? Make it harder to leave?”
“The bond doesn’t trap me, Magnus. It connects us.” Briar moved to straddle his lap, forcing him to meet her eyes. “I could leave if I wanted to. Walk away tomorrow. The bond would hurt, but it wouldn’t stop me. You know why I don’t leave?”
“Why?”
“Because I choose to stay. Every single day, I choose you. I choose us. I choose this life we’re building.” She pressed her forehead to his. “That’s not being trapped. That’s being loved.”
Magnus’s arms came around her, holding tight. “I’m so scared of becoming him.”
“I know. But you won’t.” Briar pulled back to look at him. “You know why I’m absolutely certain of that?”
“Tell me.”
“Because you’re terrified of it. Because you question yourself constantly. Because you’re in therapy working through your shit instead of using it as an excuse to hurt people.” She kissed him softly. “Bad men don’t spend their nights awake worrying about whether they’re bad men. They just hurt people and justify it.”
“My therapist said something similar.” Magnus’s voice was rough. “That self-awareness is the difference. That the fact that I’m hypervigilant about my behavior means I won’t repeat his patterns.”
“Your therapist is smart.” Briar settled against his chest. “Listen to them. And listen to me. You are a good man, Magnus Wolfe. The best man I’ve ever known. And I trust you completely.”
“Even when I’m spiraling about being my father?”
“Especially then.” She pressed a kiss to his throat. “Because you let me see it instead of hiding it. You’re vulnerable with me. That’s the opposite of what your father did.”
Magnus was quiet for a long time, just holding her, and Briar could feel something shifting through the bond. Old fears loosening their grip. Self-hatred giving way to something that looked almost like acceptance.
“Thank you,” he finally said. “For being patient with me. For not running when I show you the ugly parts.”
“There are no ugly parts.” Briar said it firmly. “Just parts that are still healing. And I love all of them.”
“Even the parts that wake you up at three in the morning because I’m having nightmares about the fire?”
“Especially those parts.” She pulled back to look at him. “Magnus, you don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to have it all figured out. You just have to be honest with me. That’s all I need.”
“I can do honest.” Magnus cupped her face. “Honestly, I’m terrified that I’m going to mess this up. That I’m going to do or say something that makes you realize I’m not worth staying for. That the broken parts of me are too much for anyone to love.”
“Honestly,” Briar said, her eyes bright with tears, “those broken parts are what make you worth loving. Because they’re real. Because you’re not pretending to be some perfect hero. You’re just Magnus—scarred and scared and doing his best. And that’s more than enough.”
Magnus kissed her then, deep and desperate, pouring everything he felt into it. When they broke apart, they were both breathing hard.
“I love you,” he said. “So much it terrifies me sometimes.”
“I love you too.” Briar smiled through her tears. “Now come on. Let’s go inside. I think we both need some reassurance that we’re real and solid and not going anywhere.”
Magnus stood, lifting her with him. “What kind of reassurance?”
“The naked kind.” Briar wrapped her legs around his waist. “Obviously.”
“Obviously.” Magnus carried her inside, and Briar felt his laughter rumble through his chest.
Later, tangled together in bed, Magnus traced idle patterns on her skin.
“I want to marry you,” he said suddenly.
Briar’s breath caught. “What?”
“Not yet. Not until the cabin’s done and you’re sure this is what you want.” He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her. “But someday. When you’re ready. I want to marry you, Briar Locke. I want to make it official in every way possible.”
“That’s not very romantic.” But Briar was smiling.
“I’ll do it properly when the time comes. Get down on one knee, probably stumble over my words, make you cry.” Magnus’s expression was soft. “But I wanted you to know. That I’m all in. That this isn’t temporary for me.”
“It’s not temporary for me either.” Briar pulled him down for a kiss. “And for the record, when you do ask—properly, on one knee, making me cry—the answer will be yes.”
“Yeah?” Hope bloomed in Magnus’s eyes.
“Yeah.” She touched his face. “I want all of it. Marriage, the cabin, kids someday. A whole messy, beautiful life together.”
“Kids?” Magnus’s voice went rough. “You want kids with me?”
“Of course I do. You’re going to be an incredible father.” Briar watched emotions play across his face. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying.” But his eyes were bright. “I’m just—I never let myself imagine that. A family. Kids who I could raise right, who’d grow up feeling safe and loved.”
“We’ll make that happen.” Briar’s voice was fierce. “We’ll build a home filled with love and laughter. We’ll raise kids who know they’re wanted. We’ll break every cycle and create something beautiful.”
“Together,” Magnus said, like a prayer.
“Together,” Briar agreed.
They fell asleep wrapped around each other, both dreaming of a future that had once seemed impossible.
A cabin in the mountains. A family. A love that healed instead of harmed.
And piece by piece, day by day, they were building it.
Not perfectly. Not without fear or doubt or moments of backsliding.
But together. Always together.
And that made all the difference.
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