I No Longer Want The Blessing You Brought From Snowy Mountain Chapter 01

I No Longer Want The Blessing You Brought From Snowy Mountain Chapter 01

On my wedding day, my groom Ethan Cole bailed again—just took off running without a backward glance, panic all over his face.”

The teacher Elena Vance he’d pulled out of a mudslide three years ago had altitude sickness. She was burning up with a fever.

“Elena’s from the coast—she’s fragile,” he’d said. “Altitude sickness can kill her.”

“We can have the wedding any day. She can’t wait.”

I stood there in my heavy wedding dress, watching him clutch that keepsake compass—the one that was supposed to be for us—while he ran off for someone else.

Once, he’d hiked across three mountain ranges just to prove he wanted me.

Now he’d put that blessing scarf around a girl from the East Coast.

His buddies were all waiting for the show.

“Three times he’s bailed. Ethan never really wanted to marry her anyway.”

“Right? Dawn’s so quiet and slow—like a block of wood. Zero spark.”

“And Elena’s fun and cute and actually educated. Dawn’s got nerve, throwing herself at a guy who’s clearly not into her.”

Everyone expected me to cry and scream like the last two times.

But this time, I stepped out of the wedding car without a single word.

My mom always said a mountain man’s blessing scarf—the one he brings down from the peak—is for one person and one person only.

His bride.

So fine.

I guess I’m not his bride anymore.

***

“Mom. Let’s go home.”

Mom’s eyes were red, but she nodded hard.

I turned around. Didn’t even glance at the wedding cars sitting there empty behind me.

I closed the door.

The laughter died instantly.

Ethan’s friends just stared at each other, frozen.

“Shit—Dawn’s actually pissed.”

“Call Ethan! Now!”

I didn’t stop walking. I pulled the door shut behind me and left the whole procession standing on the sidewalk.

Piece by piece, I took off the heavy bridal crown and jewelry. I handed them to Mom along with the dress I’d put on three times now for him.

Three times I’d walked this road, hoping each time would be the last time I’d have to wait.

The first time, he said Elena was still adjusting to the altitude. He had to bring her medicine. Next time.

The next time, he said a parent had bullied her at school. He had to go back her up. Next time.

And this time—Elena had a fever, and it could kill her.

He didn’t even say sorry. He just ran.

I could picture him, sprinting like his life depended on it, clutching that compass that was supposed to be my blessing, while he prayed for her.

Mom silently wiped my face.

I hadn’t even realized I was crying.

“Mom… am I stupid?”

She pulled me in.

“No. You’re just too kind, my Dawn.”

I remembered five years ago. Ethan had started at the foot of the mountain—three steps forward, one prostration down. Nine steps, one full kneel. For six months. Over three peaks. Until he’d earned the blessing scarf from Mount Mercy.

When he got it, he’d burst through my door, dusty and exhausted, his eyes blazing.

“Dawn. Marry me. I’ll make you the happiest woman in the High Plains.”

His promise was still echoing in my ears.

Then, three years ago, he pulled Elena out of that mudslide. And everything started to shift.

The door opened. Ethan walked in.

He smelled like her perfume. Gardenia. The one she always wore.

“Dawn.”

He came toward me, arms open. I stepped back.

He froze. Hurt flickered across his face. “What’s wrong? Still mad?”

“How’s Elena?”

“She’s fine. Just scared. She’s never had altitude sickness before, and it freaked her out—”

“I came back to tell you, about the wedding—next month—”

“Ethan.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember the first gift you ever gave me?”

He thought for a second. Then shook his head.

I pulled a small wooden box from the drawer.

Inside was an ordinary rock, smoothed down, with my name carved into it.

“You picked that rock up yourself. Said it was the hardest stone you‘’d ever seen—just like your heart. Never gonna change.”

He looked at it, and his face softened.

“I remember. I ruined three knives carving your name.”

“Yeah.”

I put the rock back in his palm.

“It doesn’t feel so hard anymore.”

He closed his fist around it, brow furrowed.

“Dawn, what are you even getting at? You’ve been dancing around it all night.”

“Dancing around it?”

“She’s not from here. She’s got nobody. I’m just helping her out. You’re blowing this way out of proportion.”

His tone turned sharp.

I looked at him and felt like I didn’t know him anymore.

“Ethan. Elena’s fever—does she need that elk antler tonic you’ve been eyeing?”

He went still.

“How did you…?”

“You were going to ask my mom for it, weren’t you?”

The elk antler tonic was Mom’s heirloom. She’d saved it for me—for after I had a baby, to help me recover.

He didn’t answer.

And I had my answer.

He didn’t come back to apologize. He didn’t come to explain. He came to get the ginseng root for Elena.