Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
J ack
I don’t run from things.
I never have.
Not from a fight, not from a storm, and damn sure not from a woman.
But this—finding out I’ve got a daughter I never knew about—this knocked the breath out of me like a steel-toed boot to the ribs. I needed space before I said something I couldn’t take back. So I did the only thing I knew how to do when the world tilted under my feet:
I drove.
The stretch of road between Devil’s Peak and Copper Mountain cuts through fir trees and frozen ridges, the Phantom River running alongside it like it’s racing me. I grip the wheel tighter with every mile, the scent of pine and snow curling into the cab of the truck, but my head’s not here.
It’s back in that cabin.
Back with her.
With my daughter.
King’s place sits just off the main drag in Copper Mountain, tucked behind his workshop where he carves custom rifle stocks and drinks bourbon straight from the bottle. I pull in, kill the engine, and don’t even have time to slam the door before he’s standing on the porch, arms crossed, knowing look on his face.
"Well, shit," he says. "You look like you’ve been sucker-punched."
"Not punched." I drag a hand through my hair. "Just wrecked."
He nods. "Come on. Indie just made chili. You’ll feel like less of an emotional porcupine once your stomach’s full."
Two bowls, a beer, and a ten-minute explanation later, King leans back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"Let me get this straight. She had your kid, never told you, showed back up with the little tyke at your house, and you didn’t drop to one knee the second you found out?"
I glare at him. "You’re not helping."
"I’m not trying to. I’m trying to fix your dumbass."
I drag a hand down my face.
"You love her?"
I don’t even hesitate. "Yeah."
"You love the kid?"
My chest tightens. "She’s mine. That’s all I need to know."
King nods like he’s been waiting for me to say that. "Then get your ass to the jewelry store and put a damn ring on it."
"You really think it’s that simple?"
He leans forward, expression softening just a fraction. "Jack, when I met Indie, I was half-feral and carrying enough baggage to crush a semi. She took one look at me and saw past all of it. Married her as soon as she’d have me. Best decision of my life. She gave me direction, gave me a reason to stop sleeping with a loaded gun under my pillow. Gave me peace."
I stare at him, heart beating like a war drum.
"That woman came back for a reason. She trusted you enough to stay. She just needs you to trust her back."
The jewelry store’s small. Quiet. Just one older guy behind the counter polishing a display case when I walk in.
He looks up. "You look like a man on a mission."
"You got anything with emeralds and snowflakes?"
He blinks. Then grins. He unlocks a display case then pulls out a piece of jewelry.
He lays the ring on the counter.
It’s perfect.
A square emerald, deep and rich, set between two delicate snowflake-cut diamonds. Simple. Stunning. Symbolic.
Me. Her. And our girl.
I don’t ask the price.
I just say, "Wrap it up."
The drive back to Devil’s Peak feels like a thousand years and a second, all at once. My fingers tap the steering wheel the whole way. I keep checking the clock, like every minute I’ve been gone was one too many.
The ring spins slow on my finger. Not fast. Not wild. Just steady.
Like her.
Like the way she walked into my life—soft but unshakable.
I can’t help thinking about the desert.
Dust in my mouth. Heat searing my lungs. Blood on my boots that wasn’t mine.
We lost three guys.
I don’t think I blinked for two days. Didn’t speak. Didn’t sleep. Just stared at the edge of the cot like if I moved, I’d shatter.
Then the letter came.
Kat. That’s what the envelope said.
Her handwriting was always neat. Big loops. Like she still took the time to write with care, even when the world was moving too fast.
I tore it open like it might save me.
And maybe it did.
Dear Jack,
I can’t believe I’m finally going to college. I mean, part of me still wants to say screw it and hop on a plane to anywhere-but-here. But Northern California it is. My parents have been on my back about it every day—telling me to do the practical thing. I’m so tired of being ‘practical.’ What I really want is adventure. Wild, messy, beautiful adventure.
Also, I don’t know if this is weird to say, but... I really hope I get to meet you soon. I know you said there’s a chance you’ll be home on leave for Spring Break. If you are... I’ll be there. I want to see your mountain. I want to see you.
Love, Kat
That part.
That sentence alone cracked me open.
Because at that point, I wasn’t even sure I was someone worth seeing. I was a shadow with a rifle. A heartbeat moving through heat and shrapnel.
But her words...
She reminded me I was still human.
Still wanted.
I remember reading the letter a second time. A third. I remember my eyes burning, my throat tight.
And then I wrote her back.
I wrote like I was bleeding through the page. Told her everything I couldn’t say out loud. How dark it got some days. How I kept a list in my head of all the reasons I needed to make it home—and her name was at the top.
I remember walking across the base, letter in hand, heart pounding like I’d just run five miles.
I dropped it in the mail slot.
And for the first time that week, I breathed.
Because of her.
It was always her.
Even when she was just a voice on paper. A stranger with ink-stained fingers and dreams too big for her tiny life.
Even then—I lived for her.