Chapter Thirteen
MATT
The crisp Alaskan air bites at my cheeks as Eliza and I make our way from the lodge to her family's home.
A week has passed since her parents delivered the devastating news, and it hangs over us like a heavy cloud.
The lodge repairs are almost complete, but the emotional wounds remain raw and unhealed.
My stomach churns with dread. In a week, I'll be heading to a new rig as planned, but the thought of it—returning to that life—haunts me.
It's like a shadow that never quite leaves, even when I try to outrun it.
That world nearly swallowed me whole, and now it feels like I'm walking back into the jaws of it, willingly.
There's this weight pressing down on my chest, a creeping unease that's settled deep in my bones. It's not fear—it's something worse, quieter but far heavier, like a slow-burning anxiety that lingers, coiled and waiting. I feel it in every breath, in every steady thrum of my pulse.
"Ready?" she asks, her blue eyes searching mine. I squeeze her hand a little tighter, trying to offer comfort where I can barely find any myself.
Inside, the living room is a patchwork of memories. Faded photographs line the walls, telling the story of their life in this wild, beautiful place. The scent of pine mixing with something sweet baking in the kitchen should calm me, but the knots in my stomach only tighten.
Mrs. Hollister sits in a worn armchair, a patchwork quilt draped over her legs. Despite her illness and recent cancer treatments, there's a sparkle in her eyes, sharp with life and humor. I squeeze Eliza's hand, sensing the mix of joy and concern she must be feeling.
Nearby, Mr. Hollister stands with a kind of quiet protectiveness, his presence commanding, like a grizzly keeping watch over its den.
"Mom, Dad," Eliza says, her voice soft but full of love, though I catch the nervous tremor beneath it, "this is Matt."
I step forward and extend my hand. "It's an honor to meet you both," I say, trying to keep my nerves steady. "We met once before, briefly, at Finn's graduation." But that moment hardly compares to the significance of this one. I've never been introduced to a woman's parents before.
Mr. Hollister cocks his head, as if trying to shift a memory loose. "Finn's graduation ... Yes, I remember you now. Did you graduate that year too?" he asks, his tone curious.
I meet his gaze steadily, my voice calm and even. "No, sir. I ran out of finances to finish, so I took a job on an oil rig." There's no shame in it. It's my story, and I stand by it.
There's a pause, my words settling in the room, before Mrs. Hollister breaks the silence. "Well, life has its way of leading us where we need to be."
Grace's handshake is surprisingly firm, her gaze piercing as she looks me over. "So, Matt," she says without preamble, "what are your intentions with our Eliza?"
"Mom!" Eliza exclaims, her cheeks flushing a bright pink.
Grace chuckles, a sound like wind chimes in the breeze. "Well, I don't have time to beat around the bush."
I appreciate her frankness. "It's alright, Eliza," I say, then turn back to Grace. My heart pounds as I plan my response, knowing the weight it carries. This isn't about me and Eliza anymore—it's about her family, her future, and the limited time they have left together.
I take a steadying breath, my voice firm but measured.
"I want to be the kind of person Eliza deserves.
Someone who supports her dreams and doesn't hold her back.
I know what she means to this family, and I'd never get in the way of that.
" The words hang in the air, heavier than I intended but true all the same.
I'm bracing myself. For what, I'm not sure. A challenge? Dismissal? A hard look that says I'm not enough for her daughter? Every muscle in my body is tense, like I'm perched at the edge of a cliff, waiting for the wind to decide if it will push me over or let me stand.
The silence stretches too long. It's suffocating, filling the space between us like a heavy fog. My mind races. Did I say enough? Should I have said more? But no, this is it. It's all I have to offer—the truth.
Grace's gaze narrows for a heartbeat, then softens. "Good answer, young man. And please, call me Grace."
As the evening progresses, we talk about my work on the rig, Eliza's teaching opportunity, and our experiences during the avalanche.
At one point, Peter and Grace share with me their greatest gifts to their children—plots of land where they can build their dreams or continue some already set in motion.
They mention Kane's land at The Ridge, Eliza's at Serenity Cove, Reid's in Lantern Bay, Finn's at Crystal Creek, Rhys's in Birch Bay, and Nash's in Misty Meadows.
Each place represents a piece of their legacy, a promise for the future.
The words hang in the air, and a knot forms in my chest. Legacy.
It's not something I've ever allowed myself to think about.
I don't have land to pass down, no family name to protect.
All I have are the memories of what I've lost—my men, my brothers.
I understand loss, but this ... this is different.
Do I crave what they have? A small voice in me whispers that I do—maybe more than I ever realized.
The thought of leaving something behind, something permanent, sends a strange longing through me.
But with the life I've led, could I ever live up to that kind of expectation?
Beneath the pleasant conversation, I can feel the unspoken heaviness—a family trying to pack a lifetime of moments into whatever time they have left.
Later, when Eliza steps out to help her father, Grace leans in close, her voice steady. "Matt, there's something you should know. We told the kids a year, but ... it won't be longer than six months."
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from my lungs. I think of Eliza, her dreams of her mother at her wedding, introducing her children to their grandmother. The reality crashes over me like a wave.
"Thank you for telling me," I say, my voice rough with emotion. "I promise, I'll take care of her."
Grace pats my hand, a sad look on her face. "I believe you will."
That night, as Eliza and I walk back to my cabin at the lodge, under a sky awash with stars, my mind races. My return to the rig feels like walking straight into another storm. But now, there's something more urgent, more vital. I know what I have to do.
"Hey," I say, breaking the comfortable silence between us. "Want to show me your property at Serenity Cove tomorrow?"
Eliza's face lights up, her smile outshining the stars above. "I'd love to! We can make a day of it."
When we reach my cabin, I unlock the door, stepping aside to let her in first. The space feels more like ours now, with her books scattered on the table, her coat hanging on the back of a chair, and the faint scent of her shampoo lingering in the air.
Her cabin next door might be perfectly fine, but being apart even for sleep feels unnatural.
Inside, I pull Eliza close, breathing in the scent of her hair, the heat of her body reminding me of everything I'm afraid to lose. I brush a kiss against her lips, wishing I could stay right here, in this moment, forever.
"I need to talk to Finn about something," I say, kissing her again, lingering a second longer. "I'll be back later. Don't wait up for me, okay?"
Her eyes search mine, that unmistakable spark of curiosity in them. "Is everything all right?"
Everything's not all right. Not really. I'm giving up one of our last nights together, and I hate it.
But there's a knot in my chest I can't ignore, something I have to settle before I can focus on anything else.
"Everything's fine," I say instead, hoping the lie sounds convincing enough.
"Get some rest, and I'll see you in the morning. "
Eliza studies my face. "If you say so. Don't stay up too late."
I watch her head to the bedroom, the pull of her almost magnetic.
We've been inseparable since that first night we made love, tangled up in each other like we couldn't stand the distance.
The thought of being apart feels wrong. But as I turn back to the door, the gravity of the night hits me.
My heart pounds—not from what I'm about to say to Finn, but from the realization that this could be one of the few nights I have left with Eliza before I head back to the rig.
After grabbing my jacket, I step out into the frigid night. The cold hits me like a physical force, but I barely notice it. My mind is too full of Grace's words—six months, not a year—and the weight of what I'm about to do.
The short walk across the lodge grounds gives me time to gather my thoughts.
Each crunch of my boots against the frozen ground marks another step toward a future I never thought I'd have.
The stars above are impossibly bright, like scattered diamonds on black velvet, and I wonder if they're watching, bearing witness to this moment that feels bigger than I am.
My heart thuds against my ribs, not from the cold or the walk, but from the magnitude of what I'm about to ask. Marriage. Family. A life so different from the lonely existence I've known on the rigs.
Light spills from the common room windows, where I know I'll find Finn.
Through the glass, I can see him moving around inside, and for a moment, I hesitate.
We've been friends since college, been through hell and back together, but this conversation feels different.
Tonight, I'm not just asking my best friend for advice—I'm asking for his blessing to marry his sister.
I take a deep breath, watching it cloud in the frigid air, and knock. The sound seems to echo in the quiet night, but it's done. No turning back now.
"It's open," Finn calls from inside.
I find him nursing a beer and gazing out the window at the star-studded sky. He looks up as I approach, then wordlessly hands me a bottle from the cooler at his feet. I gather my resolve for the conversation ahead. This is it—the first step toward the rest of our lives.
"Thanks," I say, settling into the chair next to him. The cold beer is a welcome contrast to the heat rising in my chest.
"So," Finn says after a moment, "you survived the official meet-the-parents. Congrats."
I chuckle, but it feels hollow. "Yeah, about that ... I want to talk to you about something."
Finn raises an eyebrow, waiting.
I brace myself. "I'm going to ask Eliza to marry me before I leave for the rig."
Finn doesn't react right away, his expression unreadable as he stares out the window. The silence stretches, thick with uncertainty, and I can feel my pulse hammering in my ears. What is he thinking? Is he going to tell me I'm crazy, that it's too fast?
Finn's expression shifts before he breaks into a slow grin. "Wow. When I told you to take care of my sister, I didn't mean forever, you know."
Relief floods through me, and I laugh, the tension in my chest loosening. "Sorry, no takebacks. You're stuck with me now."
Finn claps me on the shoulder, his expression turning serious. "I'm happy for you both, truly. But you know it won't be easy, right? With Mom's condition, your job on the rig..."
My throat tightens. "I know. But after everything that's happened, I've realized life's too short to wait. I love her, Finn. I want to spend whatever time we have together."
Finn's expression softens, but there's a flicker of hesitation. "I get that, but ... are you sure you're not rushing into this? You've only been together a short time."
I pause, feeling the weight of his concern, but my resolve is solid. "Yeah, I'm sure. This isn't about time; it's about knowing she's the one I want beside me through whatever comes next. I've never been more certain of anything."
Finn studies me for a long moment, then nods, understanding in his eyes. "Alright. So, do you have a ring picked out yet?"
I groan. "That's the problem. I don't have one. And I can't exactly pop into a jewelry store around here."
Finn is quiet for a beat, and I brace myself for more questions, but then his face lights up. "I have an idea. Come with me."
He leads me to a workshop behind the lodge. Inside, the smell of sawdust and varnish hits me as he pulls out a chunk of wood.
"This is from that old birch by the creek," he explains. "The one Eliza used to climb as a kid. We had to take it down, but I saved some of the wood. What do you say we make her a ring?"
My heart swells at the thought. "That's ... that's perfect. But I don't know the first thing about woodworking."
Finn grins, already setting up tools. "That's what friends are for. Now, let's get to work."
We spend the next couple of hours carving and sanding. Finn shows me how to shape the wood, how to bring out its natural beauty. As we work, we talk about Eliza, about the future. By the time the sky lightens with the first hints of dawn, we have a ring—simple, beautiful, and full of meaning.
"She's going to love it," Finn says, handing me the finished product.
I turn the ring over in my hands, marveling at how something so small can hold so much meaning. "Thank you, Finn. For everything."
He pulls me into a quick, gruff hug. "Make her happy, okay? That's all I ask."
I head back to the cabin, exhausted but exhilarated. In my pocket, I carry not only a ring but a promise, a future, a piece of Eliza's history, and hopefully, our future together.
I slip into bed next to Eliza, careful not to wake her.
The soft rise and fall of her breath is the only sound in the room, and in the dim light, I take in the curve of her cheek, the way her hair spills across the pillow.
She looks so peaceful, so beautiful, that it makes my chest tighten.
I study her for a moment, memorizing every detail—the way her lips are slightly parted, her skin inches away from mine.
How did I get this lucky?
The thought of spending forever with her feels too good to be real, but it's all I want.
Tomorrow, I think as I close my eyes, pulling her closer without disturbing her.
Tomorrow, I'll ask Eliza to be my wife.