Chapter 42
Jack
The frostbite could have been worse. That was what the doctor said, and Jack chose to believe it.
Thanks to Steph’s wilderness doctoring, his fingers had been mostly spared. There was a small white spot on one of his pinkies, but no actual damage.
Two toes on his right foot and his big toe on his left had moved past cold injury and into something that required actual medical attention and a conversation about training that Jack hadn’t enjoyed having.
The doctor had used words like “tissue damage” and “cautiously optimistic” and “several weeks before reassessing,” and Jack had listened and nodded and understood what was not being said as clearly as what was.
He might lose his pinky toe, and if he did, his balance might be compromised for a time.
There was also a good chance he would be extra susceptible to cold over the next few months.
The bottom line: The Frozen Divide 100 was not happening. Not for Jack, anyway.
He’d known it before the doctor confirmed it. He’d known it somewhere in the timber, moving through the dark in socked feet on frozen ground, only then he feared the worst when his feet had gone from painful to absent.
Steph had probably saved his feet for him. Even though she’d been gentle, just her touch had sent waves of pain all the way up to his knees. He’d wanted to tell her to stop, to not touch him, but he already knew the situation was dire.
The ride in the sled back to Silver Mane’s Lodge was not as bad as he’d feared, and he’d even slept for those few miles. At the lodge, he and Steph were moved into one of the rescue vehicles. About halfway back to Irma, a pair of ambulances waited in a spot where the road had been plowed.
“I want to stay with Jack,” Steph had said when seeing the ambulances.
From the front seat, Sheriff Hepner sighed, then said, “We’ll keep you together. The second bus is for the poacher. They’re about twenty minutes behind us.”
Both Jack and Steph had been examined at the hospital and kept for a twenty-four-hour observation. They were separated then, each being given separate rooms, but they were on the same floor. Steph spent as much time in Jack’s room as the hospital personnel allowed.
They’d been discharged three days ago. He was at Liam’s now, in the guest room that was larger than any apartment he’d lived in, with his feet elevated and everything bandaged properly. He’d had more sleep in the last seventy-two hours than he’d had in the previous month combined.
He held a book in his hands, a murder mystery set in Wyoming that he’d heard good things about, but he hadn’t turned the page in an hour.
Jack’s thoughts were focused on Steph.
Not the careful cataloging of complications and distances and reasons the whole thing was difficult. The plain version. What he wanted and what he was afraid of and what he was going to do about both.
What he wanted was simple—to be with Steph.
How he was going to get that was the challenge.
Their time in the hospital made it clear she wanted the same thing, but they both knew it might not be easy.
Celeste’s memory was always going to be there for Jack, and while he was fully aware Steph was not Celeste, he still wanted to protect her. Protect the woman he loved.
And that was what he knew more than anything.
Jack Swisher loved Steph Pierce.
He hadn’t come out and said it; it was too soon for that. But he wasn’t going to lie to himself about it either.
After years of effort, he’d built a life that didn’t require anything from anyone. He’d told himself it was the sensible response to what had happened with Celeste. He understood now that sensible and reasonable were a cop out.
Everything he’d done to keep those distances was built on fear. He could say that easily now, at least to himself, at least in the quiet of Liam’s guest room with his feet elevated and honest thinking behind him.
He was afraid of what it cost when someone you loved moved toward danger instead of away from it. He was afraid of Steph specifically, of how much she already mattered and how quickly it had happened and how completely unprepared he’d been for the force of it.
The fear was real. It wasn’t going away.
Jack was choosing Steph anyway.
A knock at the door broke him out of his reverie.
“Come in,” Jack called, setting the book on the side table.
“Hey, Jack,” Liam said, opening the door. “You up for a visitor?”
“Sure, Liam. Come on in.”
The door opened wide. Liam stepped aside, revealing Steph, her bright smile edged with nervousness.
“Hey, uh . . . I hope you don’t mind . . . ”
“Mind? No.” Jack sat up straighter in the chair.
“I probably should’ve called.” Steph’s eyes flicked around the room. “Nice place.”
“You good?” Liam asked, his hand on the doorknob.
Jack didn’t even try to hide his smile. “We’re definitely good.”
With the door closed, Steph continued her scan of the room before her gaze rested on Jack. She seemed to relax as her shoulders dropped, and she gestured toward the chair next to his. “Mind if I sit?”
“Please. I can’t believe you’re here.”
“When we talked on the phone last night, you sounded bored. Maybe a little lonely.”
“Right on both accounts. It was great of Liam to offer to let me stay here until I’m back on my feet.” He gestured to the bandages wrapped around them. “Literally.”
“It’s a beautiful home. And this room . . . wow.” She shook her head. “I knew the Dixons had some money, but . . . I had no idea.”
They spent a few more minutes discussing the house and how long Jack planned to stay.
“Only a few more days,” he said. “I see the doctor on Monday. Figure I’ll go home after that. I’ll admit, I don’t hate the celebrity treatment I’m getting here.” He laughed.
“You deserve the status,” she said with a smile. “Did Joe Monroe call?”
“Earlier this morning. He said he talked to you, too, and he’s definitely interested in writing our story. Then he said the running club was keeping him busy with all the incidents and he was going to put you all in a padded room to keep you safe.”
Steph laughed. “He told me the same thing. It has been an interesting few months.”
“I had no idea Basin County, Wyoming, was such a hot zone for criminal activity.”
“It never used to be.” Steph shrugged. “What’s that phrase about things coming in threes? This was number three, so maybe we’ll go back to being a quiet, sleepy place.”
“That’d be good for us,” Jack agreed. “Oh, you were right about The Frozen Divide. I heard back from the organizer this morning. I can roll my registration over to next year.”
“I knew they’d let you. They’re good about things like that.” She paused. “You weren’t qualified for it anyway.” She said it without heat, the way she said things that were simply true. “I knew that when I saw your name on the registration list.”
“I thought I was.” He shrugged. “I thought, how hard can it be? Wrong. Being out there, with you, showed me exactly how much I didn’t know.”
“So next year, I could help you put a plan together. If you build a solid base in advance, you’ll be ready.”
“Are you going to race next year? I thought you said this was your last year.”
Steph’s cheeks took on a light blush. “Maybe. Things . . . You see, I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
Here it comes, he thought. She’s decided our closeness was based only on being in a disaster together.
Jack had wondered about that, too, but he knew that wasn’t true and he’d come up with several reasons to give her if she thought it was. He was ready.
“Steph, I know what you’re going to say.”
She wrinkled her forehead. “How could you know?”
“I’ve thought the same things. About how trauma can heighten emotions and— ”
Steph shook her head. “No, Jack. That’s not what I was going to say.”
“It’s not? Okay?” He smiled. “Good. I’m glad. So . . . what were you going to say?”
She cleared her throat. “I wanted to tell you that my blaming you for swooping in here and setting up the run was unfair.”
“Right. We talked about this. You didn’t know it was Liam financing everything.”
She glanced around the room. “I didn’t, but that’s not the point.
The point is, I could put on a race of my own.
I don’t have the money Liam Dixon has—obviously—but I do have money.
In a few accounts. I started saving for a world-class race a few years ago.
Planned to sink everything I had into it.
And I wouldn’t spend the kind of money Liam’s going to spend on advertising and everything.
Plenty of races start on a shoestring budget. ”
“That’s true. Liam is definitely going over the top. So, you have the money and can put on a race?”
“I have the money, but I decided a couple of years ago not to use it for a race. Before you and Liam’s money ever came into the picture, I’d resigned myself to being satisfied with the fundraiser races. And not only because of the money, but because of the time.”
“The time? Involved with planning a race?”
“No, not exactly.” Steph cleared her throat. “You see . . . I’ve, um, the money I had for the race, I decided to use for something else.”
“So, you changed your mind about wanting to host a race?”
“Yes, but I want to tell you why. And maybe try to explain how come I was so angry at you, even though it seems pretty silly now.”
“Go ahead.”
“You know how Chris and Bethany are going to have a baby? Chris and I always talked about having a family. We were going to get married and have three kids, maybe four. But I couldn’t marry him. He’s great, and perfect with Bethany, but not perfect for me.”
“Right. You’ve said that.”
“Yeah, but my desire to have a family didn’t go away just because I couldn’t stay with Chris. So that’s what I decided to use my money for, and that’s why this is my last Frozen Divide 100, my last big race at all, at least for several years. I’m going to use my savings to adopt a child.”
Ah, that all makes sense, Jack thought. “You’ll be a great mom.”
“I think so, too, but now . . . ” She cleared her throat. “Now, I’m wondering if maybe I should hold off?” She looked at her hands, twisting them in her lap. “Maybe, you and me, maybe we’re . . . I mean, I know it’s too soon— ”
“It’s not too soon,” Jack interrupted, his voice rougher than usual. Now was the time. “I need to tell you something too.”
“Okay?” She leaned forward in her chair, a hopeful lilt in the word.
“I’ve been thinking about what I’m afraid of. Not managing it or working around it. Actually thinking about it.” He looked at his wrapped foot. “I’m terrified. Of caring about someone and watching them take risks and not being able to stop it. That’s not going away. I know that.”
A cloud passed over her face.
Jack raised his hand. “I’m scared, but it doesn’t matter.
I’m choosing this anyway. Choosing you. If you’ll have me, that is.
I’m all in. I want to make room for you in my life, and I want to be in yours.
I understand that’s not simple, given how I’ve made things difficult with you and our running clubs and the trouble out in the wilderness and the things we still need to figure out.
I’m not asking for simple. I’m asking for real. ”
She smiled and shook her head. “That sounds like something off a Valentine’s card.”
He laughed. It came out genuine and loose, and he hadn’t expected it. “Yeah, it does. I mean every word of it, though.”
“I know you do.” The warmth in her voice was not the careful, guarded thing he’d spent months navigating around. “I’m in too.”
Jack nodded and smiled. “Good. That’s good. I was hoping . . . I mean, after everything. I mean, I know it’s a lot. We went through a lot and— ”
“Jack?”
“Yeah?”
She stood and walked over to him, taking his hand before she knelt by his chair. “You’re rambling again.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, the sound catching somewhere between nerves and relief. “Right. Sorry.”
“You don’t have to convince me. I’m already here. And I agree with you. This is real.”
His fingers tightened around hers. “Yeah. You are.”
For a moment, neither of them moved as they stared at each other.
Then she leaned in.
It wasn’t rushed or desperate. Just certain.
When their lips met, it was soft at first—testing, almost—but the hesitation didn’t last. It deepened slowly, naturally, like they were both learning the shape of something new and finding it fit.
Jack relaxed against her, tension slipping free as he kissed her back. His hand went to the back of her neck, grounding himself in the reality of her. Of them.
There was promise in it. Not just of this moment, but of everything that came after. The messy, complicated, real future they’d just agreed to step into.
When they finally pulled apart, it wasn’t far.
He rested his forehead against hers, smiling, a little breathless. “Real sounds pretty good.”