Chapter 8
M ac stirred the pot slowly, watching the oatmeal thicken over the propane flame.
The cabin was quiet, except for the soft clink of the spoon against metal and the distant drip of rain off the trees onto the roof.
The storm had passed sometime in the early morning hours, leaving behind a damp hush and the scent of pine-soaked earth.
He turned off the stove and scooped the oatmeal into two bowls, setting them on the counter just as Jetter padded in, hair tousled, socks mismatched.
"Morning," Mac said.
Jetter rubbed his eyes. "Why'd you sleep on the couch?"
Mac's hand paused on the bowl. He glanced toward the closed bedroom door, then handed his son breakfast.
"There was a camper caught out in the storm," he said evenly. "She couldn't make it back to her cabin, so she sought shelter here. I gave her my bedroom so that she could have privacy."
He'd never lied to his son before. He wasn't going to start now.
Jetter frowned, spoon halfway to his mouth. "She stayed in your bed?"
Mac nodded. "It was safer than sending her back out in the lightning."
"I think it's stupid how everyone freaks out about the storms. I overheard the guy in Cabin Eight tell his wife there was nothing in the brochure about storms. He wanted to leave, but his wife told him to go to sleep.
" Jetter chewed slowly, thinking. "Why do people come here if they get scared of everything, like swimming in a lake or thinking bears are going to eat them? "
"Uneducated." He leaned against the counter and took a drink of his coffee.
"They never had the opportunity to learn what it's like living in the wilderness.
They don't have respect for the animals, only fear.
You can't blame them, son. Nobody taught them a different way of thinking or let them have first-hand experience. "
"Maybe staying here will teach them." Jetter wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.
"Maybe," he murmured. "Where did you end up half the night?"
Jetter scooped oatmeal into his mouth. "Mostly in the cave. I counted the seconds between booms and flashes and worked my way back home when it was safe."
Mac nodded, unsurprised. "How was the east side of the lake?"
"Slick and muddy from the rain."
"Figured," Mac said. "The campers are going to expect everything to go back to normal today with the sunshine out. The storm will be long forgotten by noon when the mud dries and dust returns."
They ate in silence for a few minutes, the kind Mac had always appreciated. No noise to make them rush. Just the rhythm of morning and the quiet company of his boy.
"What are your plans today, son?"
Jetter shrugged again, then looked up, pinching his mouth to the side, reminding him of his mother. "Can you go fishing with me?"
Mac hesitated. The storm cleanup would take most of the day. He needed to help Beckett and Cord check on campers, clear trails, and ride the ridge to look for downed trees. But Jetter rarely asked for anything.
Mac set down his coffee cup. "Tell you what. If you want to ride with me today and help check trails, we can go fishing together before dinner."
Jetter pumped the air with his fist, oatmeal forgotten. "Deal."
Mac picked up his coffee again, hiding his smile behind the rim of the cup. The boy was growing fast. Each summer, he could see Jetter getting more independence. Yet, his son continued to want to spend time with his old man. That meant everything to him.
Light filtered through the front windows. Inside, Mac felt something shift, and it wasn't the weather.
Behind his bedroom door, Lauren was awake. He could sense they weren't alone.
He gulped the last few swallows of coffee and put the mug in the sink. "Grab your boots. I'll meet you at the pole barn."
As Jetter hurried into his room, he picked up the notepad and pen and scribbled a note.
Thanks for the night— M
Jetter rushed out of his room with his riding boots on. Mac met him at the door. Once his son was out of the cabin, he hung the note on the clip where Lauren was sure to see it when she left and walked outside.
When they arrived at the lodge, Beckett already had the fire burning outside where the campers liked to gather. He paused at the pit.
"Cord up yet?" he asked.
Beckett straightened. "Been up for hours. A tree came down at his place. He swung by and grabbed the Bobcat to use the winch and clear it out until he can cut it up. How did your place fare?"
"Fine." He took a step away from the fire. "I'm gonna take Jetter and make a sweep of the ridge and see if any down trees are blocking the trails."
"I'll stick around and make sure the campers are settled and there are no problems. I took a quick walk-through of the sites and didn't see any damage." Beckett adjusted his baseball cap. "See you when you get back."
"Yep." He led Jetter toward the pole barn. "Suit up."
His son ran to the wall to grab his helmet and gloves. He grabbed the chainsaw and attached it to the back of the dual sport. Not needing to inform Jetter of what they needed to do, he led the way, knowing his son would follow.
He navigated the tight corners, watching Jetter behind him.
The storm had left its mark—branches scattered like bones, puddles reflecting the broken sky, and the occasional tree leaning just a bit too far into the road.
Mac rode slowly, methodically scanning the woods, but his thoughts kept drifting.
Jetter rode around him, more interested in riding than working.
Maybe Lauren went back to sleep once he left the cabin. Curled beneath the quilt, one arm tucked under her cheek, hair fanned out like something wild and soft. He hadn't meant to linger in the doorway this morning. But he had. He couldn't help himself. She was a beautiful woman.
Jetter stopped and pointed to a fallen cedar. "That one's blocking the ridge trail."
Mac nodded, pulling the bike to a stop. "We'll cut it out. Let's check the trail, see what we have going on."
They dismounted and walked on foot for a while. The air was thick with damp bark and the sweet smell of storm-soaked earth. They reached the overlook by midmorning, about halfway to the ridge. From there, the lake shimmered quietly below them.
He peered at the land he called home, sweeping his gaze left to right. And there she was.
Lauren stood near the edge, fists planted on her hips, staring at the view. She'd hiked up from the lower camp. Mac hadn't expected to see her here. Not yet.
As he watched her, she turned and spotted him. A slow smile changed her whole face, and she waved. Mac's chest tightened, protecting him from the ache of loneliness.
Being alone had never bothered him before. He preferred solitude.
She walked toward them, spying his son and smiling wider. "You two doing trail patrol?"
Mac cleared his throat. "Storm left a mess. Figured we'd get ahead of it."
"Found your note." Her eyes met his. "Thanks for last night, keeping me safe from the storm."
He nodded but didn't speak. Jetter was watching them both.
Lauren crouched beside the trail, brushing pine needles off a trail marker on its side. "The branches must've broken this one."
Mac knelt beside her, too close. He could smell the freshness of her hair, the faint scent of campfire smoke clinging to her clothes.
She'd showered. He should've explained that he had a shower in the cabin with hot water that she was welcome to use.
Instead, she'd gone to the bathhouse and probably stood in line with the other women in the campground.
She looked up, and for a moment, neither of them moved.
Jetter broke the silence. "Come on, Dad. Let's get to work. You promised to go fishing after we get done."
Lauren smiled. "Good plan. Have fun."
Mac straightened, brushing off his jeans. "You heading back to camp?"
She nodded. "I have content to edit if my battery isn't dead on my laptop."
"No internet."
"Yes, I know." She laughed. "I have a solar charger that's sitting on top of my jeep that lets me work offline. This is a vacation slash content hubbub. Everything I collect, I'll post next month on social media. So no real hurry."
Jetter walked closer. "Dad doesn't know what TikTok is."
"Oh, really?" She raised her brows and looked at Mac. "You've never tried a trend before?"
Jetter snorted. "He doesn't know what that is either."
"And, you do, smart ass?" he asked.
"Sure." His son moved back to the log and stepped on top of it. "Mom's on TikTok. The girls do this."
His son wiggled his butt and flailed his arms in the air, pretending to dance. Mac frowned. This was all news to him.
On the mountain, they had satellite phones for emergencies. Although he wasn't ignorant of what happens online and was familiar with apps like TikTok and Facebook, he'd never actually experienced them. There was no need. Staring at a phone all day was a waste of time.
"Alright, let's get back to work." He stepped away from Lauren and took the chainsaw off his motorcycle.
He watched her longer than he should have until her figure disappeared into the trees. Jetter tugged at his sleeve. "You like her."
Mac blinked. "What makes you say that?"
"You look like you forgot how to breathe."
Mac laughed, but it came out thin. "Come on. Let's finish cutting the tree and move on. There are fish to catch."
They worked in silence, but Mac's thoughts went to the way Lauren watched him and his son together. He couldn't help but wonder what came next. She was going to be here for a month.