Chapter 16
Ivy broke from the forest, circling Aurora Cove, pine needles muffling each stride. Her breath plumed white in the sharp air as she cut through town, lungs burning, dodging piles of slush.
She aimed for the athletic park’s grass track, a few final laps to chase clarity.
Normally, running stripped her clean of everything but the rhythm of breath and heart. Today, each inhale dragged Ryder with it, and every exhale refused to let him go.
Ryder’s mouth on hers.
His hands framing her face.
The raw hurt in his eyes when she’d called it a mistake.
A mistake?
Her stride faltered and her pulse kicked like she’d sprinted uphill. The question had looped endlessly in her head since the waterfall, with no answer ever sticking.
A mistake shouldn’t feel like this—like something she couldn’t stop replaying, no matter how hard she ran.
She veered off the sidewalk onto the park’s damp grass, snowmelt glittering under the pale sun.
She needed clarity. Sinclair had couriered files to her hotel that morning with a note promising data to answer all her questions, and she’d planned to clear her head before diving into them. But she wasn’t sure that was even possible now.
A sharp bark snapped her out of the spiral. A massive, shaggy mutt barreled across the track, tongue lolling, fur flying.
Behind him trudged a familiar figure, silver braid over one shoulder.
Jack raised a hand. “Hey. Hoped I might find you here. Receptionist at the hotel said she saw you heading out for a run.” Her jacket was bulky, her boots muddy—the look of a woman who had no time for anything that didn’t earn its keep.
Ivy slowed to a jog, tugging out an earbud as the dog circled her legs with noisy sniffs. “You were looking for me?”
Jack shrugged. “Kinda. Got two days’ leave. Diesel’s been pining for me.” Jack scrubbed the mutt’s head, her roughened hands gentle. “Haven’t you, boy?”
Diesel rolled onto his back, paws in the air, tail thumping.
Despite herself, Ivy smiled. “Must be hard, keeping a dog with your schedule.”
“He stays with my sister when I’m gone. Gets spoiled rotten, which makes him appreciate me all the more when I’m back.” Jack threw a stick, and Diesel bounded after it, ears flapping.
Jack turned back, eyes narrowing. “How’s that head of yours?”
Ivy’s fingers rose automatically to the still tender spot at her temple. “Better. Looked worse than it was.”
Diesel dropped the stick at Ivy’s feet, hopeful. She bent and picked it up. “I don’t think I’m qualified.”
Jack huffed a laugh. “Smart dog. Knows how to work the system.”
Ivy tossed the stick, and Diesel tore off after it.
“Good thing Ryder was there to patch you up.” Jack’s tone was casual.
Heat crawled over Ivy’s cheeks.
“Yeah. I was lucky he was there.” She hugged her elbows, not knowing where to look. “He knows what he’s doing.”
Jack gave a low laugh. “Professional, huh?”
The warmth in Ivy’s cheeks intensified. “Something like that.”
Jack let it go with a half-smile. “You’ve met his little girl?”
“Ellie? Yes. She’s adorable.”
Jack’s expression sobered. “You didn’t hear it from me, but his ex walked out when Ellie was a few months old. He came home from a twenty-four-hour rescue and found his baby in his mother’s arms. Miranda was just gone.”
Ivy stilled, suddenly cold. “I didn’t know.”
What kind of woman walked away from a man like Ryder? From her baby?
“He’s a good man.” Jack retrieved Diesel’s dropped stick and flung it across the track. Her voice gentled. “Bit wrecked after that, but solid.”
Ivy rubbed her fingers against her throat, failing to ease the ache swelling there.
Of course, he guarded Ellie like a fortress and kept the world at a distance. And she—fool that she was—had told him their kiss was a mistake.
God, how could she have made such a mess in such a short period of time?
Jack whistled sharply, and Diesel bounded toward her, stick dragging a furrow in the wet turf. She studied Ivy for a long moment. “Sinclair sent over the data you wanted?”
Ivy started. Data? “What? Yes. This morning. Haven’t looked at it yet.”
Jack scanned the empty track, her eyes narrowed. “You got the polished version. I saw the raw readings before he pulled them yesterday. One minute the seabed’s solid, the next it spikes off the charts. He averaged it all out, smoothed the wrinkles so it looks harmless.”
“Wrinkles?” Ivy frowned.
“Think of it like ironing a shirt,” Jack said. “Looks neat when it’s flat, but the wrinkles were telling you something—strain, stress, weak points. And down there? Those wrinkles mean danger.”
Danger. The word cracked under her like ice—sudden and impossible to pretend she hadn’t felt it give.
Jack reached into her tote and pulled out a battered cookbook, its spine worn, the cover faded. She held it out. “Thought you might like some local recipes. Page forty-three’s got the best salmon marinade you’ll ever taste.”
“Recipes?” Ivy stared at the book. Misting rain beaded on the cover.
Jack held the cookbook out, waiting. Ivy took it with unsteady hands. A lump pressed against the pages. Confused, Ivy opened it to find a memory stick tucked inside.
Her head snapped up.
“That's the raw data.” Jack met her eyes. “I took a copy, decided you should see it before you lay your money on the table. It’s all there. Environmental surveys, seabed stability, methane pocket readings.” Jack’s voice leveled, matter-of-fact, as if they were discussing the weather.
“I’m no expert—you’ll want a geologist to really unpack what it all means. ”
Ivy closed the cookbook. It felt heavier than it should, weighted with more than recipes and butter measurements. Jack had just handed her evidence against her own investment. Evidence that could save her—or destroy everything.
"Thank you." The words felt inadequate.
“At least this way you’ll be making an informed choice about BlackRock,” Jack whistled once more for Diesel, who bounded to her side, stick clamped between his teeth. “Just be careful who you trust with that information. Too many people around here have a stake in keeping things quiet.”
“Jack—”
“I’ve said my piece.” The older woman’s tone was firm but not unkind. “What you do with it is up to you. But thirty years on rigs taught me this—the real danger isn’t the stuff you see coming. It’s the problems no one wants to talk about.”
Jack turned to go, then paused. “For what it’s worth? I haven’t seen that man look at anyone the way he looked at you.”
The wind caught her words and shoved them against Ivy’s chest before she could breathe them away.
With that parting shot, Jack strode across the grass, Diesel loping at her heels, leaving Ivy frozen in place.
The cookbook’s cracked spine dug into her ribs, anchoring her while everything inside felt suddenly unmoored. Slowly, the world returned—children shouting in the distance, a dog barking, a car horn—but the sounds seemed too ordinary for the weight she held.
This wasn’t just numbers on a page or an investment portfolio. This was lives. Ryder’s. Ellie’s. Everyone bound to Aurora Cove.
She tucked the book inside her hoodie and zipped it up, as if shielding it—or herself. Ryder’s face flashed in her mind. Strong hands, watchful eyes. A born protector even when it cost him everything.
Her legs itched to move, to find her rhythm again, but no amount of running could carry her far enough this time.
The only question now was whether she had the courage to fight for both—the truth, and the man she’d pushed away.