Chapter 7 Rescue
CHAPTER SEVEN
RESCUE
AVA
The drive back to town felt surreal.
Everything looked the same, the snow-covered mountains, the narrow roads, the pine forests stretching endlessly, but everything had changed. I'd left the team cabin three days ago, running from my past. I was returning with something that felt dangerously like a future.
Griffin's hand rested on my thigh as he drove, solid and warm. Every few minutes, he'd glance over like he needed to confirm I was real. I understood the impulse. I kept doing the same thing.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
"That I need to find an apartment. The team cabin was temporary housing." I covered his hand with mine. "Unless you know of anything available?"
His jaw tightened. "Move in with me."
I blinked. "What?"
"My place. It's nothing fancy, two bedrooms, needs work, but it's got space. And it's..." He stopped, flexing his fingers on the wheel. "I don't want you somewhere else. I want you with me."
A flicker of fear went through me, fast, sharp, instinctive. Too soon. Too much. Too real. And yet…
My heart stuttered. "Griffin, that's, we've known each other three days."
"I know. It's too fast. Too soon. Completely insane." He looked at me, storm-gray eyes intense. "But I'm asking anyway. Move in with me."
I should've said no. Should've pointed out all the rational reasons why moving in together after seventy-two hours was a terrible idea.
Instead, I heard myself say, "Okay."
His expression transformed, relief and joy, and something fiercer underneath.
"Okay?"
"Okay." I laughed at the absurdity of it all. "But I'm keeping the second bedroom for my gear. I have a lot of gear."
"Deal." He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "Fair warning, I'm a terrible roommate. I leave wood shavings everywhere, and I drink coffee at weird hours."
"I reorganize things without asking and I have nightmares sometimes."
"Then we'll leave wood shavings everywhere and I'll hold you through the nightmares." He said it like a vow. "That's what partners do."
Partners. The word settled into my chest, warm and right.
We reached town just after noon. Main Street was bustling despite the snow, people clearing sidewalks, hanging fresh Valentine's decorations to replace the ones damaged in the storm. The banner still proclaimed FIND YOUR MATCH IN THE MOUNTAINS, and I couldn't help smiling.
I'd found mine.
Griffin parked at the SAR base. Rafe was waiting outside, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"Uh oh," I murmured. "That's his serious face."
"That's his only face." But Griffin's hand tightened on mine before we climbed out.
Rafe's gaze swept over us, taking in the way we stood close, the way Griffin's hand found the small of my back, the way I leaned into his touch without thinking.
"So," Rafe said. "Vivian was right."
I felt heat creep up my neck. "About?"
"You two." A slight smile cracked his serious expression. "Though I'm guessing the marriage clause had nothing to do with it."
"The marriage clause was bullshit," Griffin said flatly.
"Agreed. Which is why I had a conversation with Vivian about boundaries and grant requirements and the difference between matchmaking and fraud.
" Rafe's smile widened slightly. "She sends her apologies," Rafe added.
"But the job offer stands, Ava. No strings.
No fake engagements. Just good work with a good team. "
"I'm in," I said. "Officially."
"Good. Because we're understaffed and winter's not over." He glanced at Griffin. "You vouching for her?"
"With my life."
Something passed between them, understanding, respect, trust. Then Rafe nodded.
"Welcome to Bitterroot Ridge SAR, Ava Winters. Try not to let this one..." he jerked his chin at Griffin "drive you crazy."
"Too late," I said, and Griffin's quiet laugh rumbled against my back.
GRIFFIN
The rest of the day passed in a blur of debriefing, paperwork, and Rafe walking Ava through team protocols. I sat in on the meetings, watching her take command of the technical rope systems discussion with a confidence that made my chest tighten.
She was brilliant. And she was mine.
Around four, Vivian appeared in the doorway, in a pink blazer, with an apologetic smile, cupcakes in hand.
"I know, I know," she said before anyone could speak.
"I overstepped. Rafe explained very clearly about proper hiring practices and not fabricating grant requirements.
And impersonating a Search and Rescue professional.
" She set the cupcakes on the table. "But in my defense, you two are perfect together. "
I should’ve been pissed. Instead, I saw the truth in her eyes, Vivian hadn’t caused this. She’d just tripped the first domino.
Ava glanced at me, fighting a smile. "You're not wrong."
Vivian's face lit up. "So it worked! The Valentine's Initiative..."
"Had nothing to do with it," I interrupted. "We would've found each other anyway."
"But you didn't have to." Vivian beamed. "That's the magic of Bitterroot Ridge. People find what they need here."
She wasn't wrong. As much as I wanted to stay annoyed at her meddling, I couldn't deny the truth. I'd needed Ava. And somehow, she'd needed me too.
After Vivian left, still talking about her "success rate," Rafe dismissed us for the day.
"Get some rest," he said. "Both of you. We've got training scheduled for next week, and I need you sharp."
We walked out into the late afternoon sun, the mountains golden in the fading light. Ava stopped on the sidewalk, tilting her face up to the sky.
"It's beautiful here," she said softly.
"Yeah." But I was looking at her. "It is."
She caught me staring and laughed. "Take me home, mountain man."
"Which home? The cabin or..."
"Yours. Ours." She took my hand. "I want to see where we're going to build our life."
Our life. The words should've terrified me. Instead, they felt right.
My place was ten minutes outside town, a cabin I'd been slowly renovating, tucked into the trees with a view of the ridge. It was rough around the edges, but solid. The kind of place you could grow into.
Ava walked through slowly, taking in the wood stove, the half-finished kitchen, the loft bedroom, and the second room I'd been using for storage.
"It's perfect," she said finally. "Needs work, but perfect."
"I've been fixing it up when I have time. Figured..." I stopped, the admission catching in my throat.
"Figured what?"
“I kept fixing this place up like someone might walk into my life one day and make it feel full again. I just didn’t expect that someone to show up this fast.”
"I'm not out of your league." She kissed me, soft and sure. "We're exactly where we're supposed to be."
We spent the evening unpacking her duffel, making space in the closet, rearranging the second bedroom for her gear. It should've felt strange, this rapid domesticity, this immediate intimacy. Instead, it felt natural.
Like coming home.
After dinner, I retreated to my workbench while Ava curled up on the couch with a book. I pulled out the piece of wood I'd been working on, the one I'd started carving that first night in the team cabin.
It had shown me what it wanted to be.
I worked by lamplight, the knife moving in familiar patterns, shaving away everything that didn't belong. Ava glanced over occasionally, but didn't interrupt. She understood the need for this, the thinking without talking, the creating something permanent from something raw.
An hour later, I finished.
"Ava?" I held up the carving. "Come here."
She set down her book and crossed to me. I handed her the piece.
It was a heart, not the stylized Valentine kind, but something more organic. Real. And wrapped around it, carved with painstaking detail, was rope. Knotwork that wove through the wood grain, creating patterns that looked delicate but were structurally sound.
The kind of knot that would never fail.
"Griffin." Her voice was thick. "It's beautiful."
Something in my chest loosened, the same knot that had been cinched tight since Colorado. It felt like the first breath after surfacing from too-deep water.
"It's for you. For us." I traced one of the rope lines with my finger. "A reminder that some things hold. Even when everything else fails."
Tears spilled over. "I love it. I love..." She stopped, the words catching.
I cupped her face, brushing away tears with my thumbs. "You can say it. I'm not going anywhere."
"I love you." The words came out in a rush. Saying it didn’t break me like I’d expected. It steadied me.
"I know it's too soon and too fast and completely insane, but I love you. I think I started loving you the moment you got angry on my behalf in that town hall."
Everything in me settled. Clicked into place.
"I love you too." I kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth. "I think I started the moment you looked at me like I wasn't broken. Like I was just someone worth knowing."
"You are worth knowing." She kissed me back, desperate and deep. "Worth loving. Worth keeping."
I lifted her, carrying her to the bedroom. We made love slowly this time, no urgency, no desperation. Just the steady certainty of two people choosing each other despite the fear, despite the trauma, despite every reason it shouldn't work.
After, we lay tangled together, her head on my chest, my hand stroking her hair.
"Griffin?" Her voice was drowsy. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For holding on. For not giving up. For seeing me."
I pressed a kiss to her temple. "Always. That's a promise."
She fell asleep in my arms, her breathing deep and even. No nightmares. No fear. Just peace.
And I realized, for the first time in three years, I was at peace too.