Heart’s Haven (Port Promise)

Chapter One

MATT

The bell above the door jingles as I enter the store, stomping snow off my boots.

A blast of warm air hits me, carrying the scent of coffee and pine.

It's a stark contrast to the biting cold outside, and I stand there, letting the heat seep into my bones.

Behind the counter, a big guy looks up, his face breaking into a grin that stops me in my tracks.

It's so unmistakably Hollister that for a moment, I forget why I'm here.

“Matt?” he asks, confirming my suspicion that this must be one of Finn's brothers.

“That's me,” I say, trying to keep my tone light despite the tightness in my chest. It feels foreign, this attempt at normalcy. When was the last time I genuinely smiled? “Rhys, I'm guessing?”

“Got it in one,” he says, reaching out to shake my hand. His grip is firm, reassuring. “Finn said you'd be swinging by to pick up the snowmobile.”

“Yeah, finally made it. That plane ride is no joke.” The flight was rough, bouncing around in a tin can over the Alaskan wilderness.

“Welcome to the wild.” Rhys chuckles. I glance around the store, taking in the shelves stocked with everything from canned foods to fishing gear. It's the kind of place that seems to have anything you might need in a pinch.

“Nice place you've got here,” I comment, trying to keep the conversation going.

Rhys beams with pride. “Thanks. It's been in the family for generations. We try to stock everything that people would want or need. Out here, it's the little things that make you happy, you know?”

I nod, though I don't know. I've never stayed in one place long enough to understand that kind of connection to a business or a community. The longest I've been anywhere was on the rig and look how that turned out.

“So,” Rhys says, leaning on the counter, “you went to college with my little bro, huh?”

“Yep, roommates freshman year,” I say, wondering where this is going.

He leans in, lowering his voice. “Got any juicy stories? Anything I can use to bug him the next time I see him?”

I laugh. “Man, your brother is a stand-up guy.”

“Aw, come on,” Rhys prods. “Give me one thing. As his brother, it's my job to have ammo.”

I hesitate, then decide to throw him a bone. “Alright,” I concede. “Let's say Finn could sleep through anything. I'm certain he slept through half our 8 AMs. If not for Sally Thorpe, he wouldn't have passed English. She took all his notes.”

Rhys cracks up, his laughter filling the store. “That tracks. Finn could snooze through a hurricane if you let him.” He wipes a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “Thanks for that. I’m bringing it up at the next family dinner.”

A sharp ache tightens in my chest at the mention of family dinner. It's been years since I've had anything like that. But I push the feeling aside, focusing on the task at hand. “So, about that snowmobile?”

“Right, right,” Rhys says, straightening up. “It's all ready for you. But first, let me show you how to get to Finn’s lodge without ending up in a snowbank.”

I force myself to concentrate as Rhys goes over the map, but it's like trying to hold water in my hands.

No matter how tightly I attempt to grasp the present, the past seeps in—the rig explosion, the faces of the men I lost. It's not only when I'm alone or trying to sleep.

Even now, surrounded by safety, those thoughts have a way of creeping back in, fresh and unforgiving.

“You got all that?” Rhys asks, snapping me back to the present.

“Yeah, thanks,” I manage, folding the map and tucking it into my jacket pocket. I hope I remember enough to make it to my destination. And if I don't—well, I'll follow my tracks back, praying the snow doesn't cover them too quickly.

Rhys walks me out to the snowmobile and gives me a quick rundown on the controls.

I try to focus despite the fog in my mind.

The controls feel somewhat intuitive, bringing back memories of rides during a trip to Colorado.

It seems like a lifetime ago, before the rig, before the accident that changed everything.

Rhys finishes his explanation, patting the seat. “She's all yours,” he says. “Take it easy out there, alright? The trails can be tricky if you're not used to them.”

I swing my leg over the machine and press the ignition button.

The engine roars to life, its rumble both comforting and unsettling.

It's not the same as the constant thrum of the rig, but it's close enough to make my heart rate pick up.

I'm determined to make this work. I have to, if I ever want to get back out there and live a normal life.

“Thanks again,” I call to Rhys. He waves as I pull away, leaving the store behind me.

The roar of the snowmobile can't drown out the echoes in my head.

As I navigate the snowy trails, following Rhys's directions as best I can, flashes of the past haunt me.

Flames flicker at the edges of my thoughts, the heat of the explosion still searing my skin months later.

I gun the throttle, pushing harder through the woods, as if I could outrun the ghosts that followed me here.

After a while, the trail feels unfamiliar and worry creeps in that I might have taken a wrong turn.

The trees seem to close in, and a small, half-buried boulder looms on the side of the path—something Rhys hadn’t mentioned.

I pull over, kill the engine, and let the forest's silence swallow me. It’s almost oppressive after the constant hum of the snowmobile.

My hands shake as I pull out the map Rhys gave me, tracing the route with my finger, trying to match it to the landmarks.

Once I confirm I’m still on track, the tension eases, though a nagging doubt lingers.

As I continue on, the landscape changes.

The dense forest thins out, giving way to more open spaces.

And then, I see it. The trees part like a curtain, revealing a row of picturesque log cabins nestled against a backdrop of snow-capped mountains.

Crystal Creek Retreat. It's more impressive in person than in the photos Finn showed me, a testament to the hard work he's put into the place over the years.

I ease the snowmobile to a stop, cutting the engine in one smooth motion.

The crunch of snow under my boots seems loud as I dismount and stretch, working out the kinks from the ride.

The air is crisp, clean in a way that makes my lungs ache after months of rig smog and the acrid stench of burned metal.

“You must be Matt!”

The voice catches me off guard, and I turn quickly.

A young woman stands on the porch of the main cabin, bundled up in a parka that does little to hide her curves.

Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, and her blue eyes shine as she takes me in.

I’m struck by how young she seems—definitely not what I had expected.

Finn had mentioned his sister would be here, but I’d imagined someone closer to my age, early thirties, not someone in her twenties.

“Yes,” I say, aiming for a friendly look, though it probably comes off more like a grimace. “You must be Eliza.”

She descends the steps with a grace that belies the icy conditions. “Finn said you'd be arriving today. How was the trip?”

“Long,” I say, “but quiet. Exactly what the doctor ordered, I guess.” I wince internally at my choice of words. I don't want to invite questions about why I'm here.

Eliza's features soften, and I wonder if Finn has told her about my situation. There's a knowing look in her eyes that makes me both uneasy and strangely reassured. “Well, you're in the right place for peace and quiet. Come on, I'll show you to your cabin.”

As we walk, Eliza points out distinct features of the retreat—the main lodge, the smaller guest cabins, the path leading down to the creek that gives the place its name.

I try to pay attention, but I find my gaze drawn to her more often than not.

There's something about her, a radiance and vitality that seems at odds with the winter landscape around us.

“And here we are,” she says, stopping in front of a cozy-looking cabin. “Home sweet home for the next several weeks.”

I swallow hard as I read the sign. Heart's Haven. The name feels almost mocking. My heart doesn't need a haven—but my mind could use a refuge. “Thanks,” I say. “It looks … peaceful.”

Eliza's expression fills with understanding, and I wonder if she can see right through me, past the polite conversation, to the turmoil underneath. “If you need anything, let me know. Sometimes a little company can help, even when you think you want to be alone.”

As I open my mouth to reply, the whine of a snowmobile engine cuts through the air.

I was hoping to be here on my own, to find some solitude, but it seems the universe has other plans.

A Polaris pulls up, and a tall, rugged-looking man kills the engine.

As soon as he unstraps a young girl from the back seat, she takes off like a shot.

“Zaza! Zaza!” The little girl, maybe two or three, flings herself at Eliza's legs.

Eliza laughs, scooping the child up into her arms. “Hey there, munchkin. Where did you come from?”

The man approaches, shaking his head with a puzzled expression. “Sorry, Sis. She got away from me the minute we arrived. You know how she is when she sees you.”

“No worries.” Eliza turns to me, the little girl now perched on her hip. “Matt, this is my oldest brother, Kane, and his daughter, Hailey. Guys, this is Matt, Finn's friend from college.”

I glance at Kane, who returns the gesture with a scrutinizing look.

I can almost see the gears turning in his head, wondering what I'm doing here, and if I'm a threat to his family.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, then turn to Hailey, grateful for the distraction.

“And it's very nice to meet you too, Miss Hailey.”

The little girl giggles, burying her face in Eliza's shoulder. “She's shy,” Eliza explains, but I can see Hailey peeking at me curiously.

“She takes after her old man,” Kane says. “Listen, I hate to drop and run, but I've got to get back to the docks. The boat is giving me troubles. You okay with the munchkin for a couple of hours?”

Eliza's eyes light up as she bounces Hailey lightly. “Of course. We're going to have lots of fun, aren't we, Hailey?”

“Fun with Zaza!” Hailey agrees enthusiastically.

As Kane revs up the ATV and heads out, envy creeps in at their easy family dynamic.

“Zaza?” I ask, wondering about the nickname.

Eliza laughs, the sound warm and inviting. “She couldn't say 'Eliza' when she was learning to talk. It came out as 'Zaza,' and it stuck, but we're working on it.”

“It suits you,” I say.

Our eyes lock, and a jolt of ... something shoots through me. Recognition? Empathy? Attraction? I look away, unsettled by the intensity of her gaze.

“Well,” Eliza says, breaking the moment, “I should let you get settled. Dinner is at six in the main lodge if you'd like to join us. If not, there's food in your cabin, and you're welcome to cook for yourself.”

“Thanks,” I say, eager for solitude. “I think I'll get unpacked and maybe take a walk, try to clear my head a bit.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she says. “Be careful if you go into the woods. The trails are marked, but it's easy to get turned around if you don’t know them well. And keep an eye out for wildlife—we've had some bear sightings in recent weeks.”

“Bears. Right. Because that's what I need right now.” The sarcasm slips out before I can stop it.

Her face shows compassion. “Stick to the marked trails and you'll be fine. Sometimes a little danger puts other things into perspective.”

As Eliza walks away, Hailey waving goodbye over her shoulder, I'm struck by her words.

Perspective. Isn't that what I'm here for?

To figure out why I survived, why I'm still standing when better men aren't? Her comment about danger lingers.

Does she know about the rig? About the men I lost?

Or is this a general observation, the kind you say without realizing how deeply it cuts?

Either way, it hits hard—because danger is all I know and finding perspective in that has never been easy.

I shake my head, trying to clear it of the memories threatening to surface.

I grab my bags and head into the cabin. It's cozy inside, all warm wood and soft fabrics.

A fire is already laid in the stone fireplace, ready to be lit.

The kitchen is small but well-equipped, and through an open door, I can see a bedroom with a bed that looks infinitely more inviting than my bunk on the rig.

I drop my bags and sink onto the couch, exhausted. The journey here, both physical and emotional, catches up with me all at once. I close my eyes for a moment and regret it.

Fire. Screaming. The sickening lurch as the rig collapses...

I jerk upright. Sweat beads on my forehead despite the chill in the air. Another nightmare. They've followed me even to this peaceful place. I rub my face, trying to shake off the lingering terror. This is going to be harder than I thought.