Chapter 42
Ivy paused with the basket of chopped firewood in her arms. The familiar rattle of an ancient Ford, engine knocking like it had opinions about still being alive, cut through the chill air.
She grinned. “Jack.”
Ryder downed his ax and wiped his brow. “With your brother?”
“She offered to collect him from the airport.” Jack’s battered blue Ford lurched into the driveway. “I think she wanted to vet him up close.”
“Christ,” Ryder muttered. “Poor bastard.”
Ivy laughed. “You’re not wrong.”
The truck screeched to a halt and the passenger door opened. George pitched out, his green coat flapping, hair askew.
Jack hopped out of the driver’s side, grinning. She wore her usual—faded jeans, work boots, flannel shirt under a canvas jacket that had seen better decades. The bruises on her face had faded to yellow-green shadows, and her ribs were healed enough that she moved without wincing.
“Delivered him in one piece.” She patted the hood of her truck affectionately and then yanked open the back door. Eighty pounds of enthusiastic dog launched itself onto the drive.
“Deezle!” Ellie shrieked from the front door.
She jammed her feet into her rain boots and shot down the porch steps. Diesel met her halfway, tail whipping back and forth hard enough to throw off his balance. Ellie threw her arms around the dog’s neck. “Me lub, Deezel.”
George stepped carefully around the reunion, brushing dog hair off his coat. He pulled Ivy into a tight hug and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Missed you, Ives.”
She hugged him back, breathing in his familiar scent of wool and citrus cologne. “You too.”
He pulled back from the hug, his cheeks flushed. “Let me look at you.” His eyes crinkled with a smile. “You look good, Ives.”
“I’m good, George. Better than good.”
And she was—because she’d finally chosen her own path.
“Are you happy?” The same question he’d asked her a hundred times growing up. When their father had pushed hard. When duty had felt like drowning.
She met his eyes. “Yes. I am.”
He took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “That’s all I want.”
“Are you—”
“Me?” He smiled faintly. “I’m muddling through. Mrs. Dove keeps me right. I’m so glad you’re happy, Ives. That means more to me than anything. I’m just sorry I didn’t see sooner how you were struggling. I—”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Shush. Enough.”
He nodded.
“Your brother,” Jack staggered past, hauling George’s suitcase, “talks endlessly about property values.”
“Merely making conversation,” George said.
“For two hours.”
Ryder took the case from Jack with his good hand. “Good to see you, Jack.”
“You too, Meyer. Shoulder healing up?”
“Getting there. How are the ribs?”
“Healed. Mostly. Still can’t sneeze without wanting to die, but that’s an improvement.” Jack’s expression sobered. “Doctor cleared me for light work. No climbing rigs but that’s okay with me. I’m in no hurry to climb back on a rig right now. Desk work’s fine.”
She pulled a duffel from the cab. “This one’s mine. Brought the wave power specs. Figured we could go over them while I’m here.” She looked past Ryder to Ivy. “Unless you’re too busy being domestic.”
Ivy rolled her eyes. “Come inside before you freeze to death.”
Inside, George paused and surveyed the living room with the assessing expression Ivy knew too well. The worn couch. The toys scattered on the floor and the overflowing bookshelves. Her laptop open on the kitchen table.
He’s cataloging. Comparing this to Lambourne House with its forty rooms and staff quarters. Wondering if I’ve lost my mind.
His gaze snagged back on her, warm. “This is nice.”
Ivy rolled her shoulders, gave him a slow smile. She’d worried about nothing.
Jack dropped her duffel by the couch. “Coffee? Please tell me you have coffee. Your brother doesn’t believe in caffeine before noon.”
“I believe in it,” George said. “I simply don’t require it.”
“That’s because you’re not human.” Jack winked at Ivy. “I’ll make it. You catch up with His Grace here.”
She disappeared into the kitchen.
“Unca Goge?”
Ellie materialized at George’s side, Diesel panting beside her. She tugged on his hand with both of hers. “Tassel?”
George looked down, startled.
Ivy smiled. “George, this is Ellie, Ryder’s daughter. She’s asking if you live in a castle.”
“Oh.” George bent at the waist in a formal half-bow. “How do you do, Miss Ellie. My house is not quite a castle. But you will be very welcome to visit.” His face softened as he glanced between Ellie and Ivy. “Someday very soon, I should think.”
Ellie beamed. She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the hallway. “Come see room!”
George let himself be towed, glancing back at Ivy with an expression somewhere between panic and helplessness.
“It’s all right,” Ivy called. “She just wants to show you her room.”
“Ah. Of course.”
Ivy followed them down the hall. Diesel trotted along, tail wagging. In Ellie’s room, George made impressed noises at everything Ellie pointed out—the toy kitchen, the stuffed animals lined up on her bed, her crayon drawing of a horse taped to the wall.
Ellie picked a book from the pile on her nightstand and thrust it at George. “Read?”
George accepted the book. “Now?” He glanced at Ivy, brow wrinkled.
“If you’d like.” Ivy motioned for him to sit.
“I would very much.” He turned back to Ellie. “That would be delightful, Miss Ellie.” He sat on the floor, back against the bed frame. Ellie climbed onto his lap without hesitation and George opened to the first page.
Ivy leaned against the doorframe, her heart full to bursting. Formal, reserved George, raised to be a duke before he could walk—sitting on a toddler’s bedroom floor reading about a caterpillar who ate too much.
Diesel flopped down beside them with a contented sigh.
This was her family. All of it. Old and new, woven together in ways she’d never imagined only months ago.
Ryder’s arm came around her waist from behind. She leaned back against his chest, felt the soothing rise and fall of his breathing.
“You okay?” His voice was low, just for her.
She nodded. “Better than okay.”
“Come on,” Ryder murmured, planting a kiss on her neck. “Let’s give them some space.”
In the living room. Jack sprawled on the couch, coffee mug in one hand, laptop open on her knees. She looked up. “Where’s George?”
“Reading to Ellie.” Ivy sat beside Jack.
“Huh.” Jack blew on her coffee. “He’s less of a stuffed shirt than I expected.”
“He was terrified in your truck, wasn’t he?”
“Completely. It was beautiful.” Jack grinned. “Man white-knuckled the door handle the entire way. I hit one pothole and thought he was going to cry.”
Ryder snorted.
Jack set her mug down and turned the laptop toward Ivy. “Speaking of—wave power specs came through yesterday. George forwarded them. Wanted your eyes on the coastal erosion data before Thursday’s meeting.”
Ivy scanned the screen. Numbers and projections, environmental impact assessments, cost analyzes. The kind of work that used to feel like an obligation. Now it felt like purpose.
“This looks solid, Jack.”
“It is solid. Your brother knows his stuff.” Jack scrolled down. “We’re meeting with the engineering firm Thursday afternoon. You’re coming, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good. I need you there to translate when George talks about sustainability matrices and ecological paradigm shifts.”
“Those are perfectly reasonable terms.”
“Fancy words for don’t fuck up the ocean.” Jack leaned back, grinning. “But yeah, the project’s going to work. Offshore platforms, minimal environmental impact, long-term viability. He’s offered me a permanent consultant post and mentioned he hoped you would be project lead.”
Ivy blinked. “Project lead?”
“Did he not tell you?” Jack’s grin widened. “He mentioned something about you having the vision and expertise to see it through.”
Warmth spread through Ivy’s chest. George hadn’t just accepted her staying in Alaska. He’d given her a reason to stay that had nothing to do with Ryder. A career. A future.
“That’s...” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Disgustingly thoughtful?” Jack supplied. “Yeah. Your brother’s all right, even if he does talk too much about land values, but you know that, don’t you?”
Ivy nodded. “His heart is in the right place.”
“I should get going.” Jack drained her coffee. “Let you three catch up properly.”
“You don’t have to leave,” Ryder said.
“I do. I need to walk that mutt of mine.” She whistled. “Diesel! Come!”
Diesel appeared from the hallway, tail wagging, with a stuffed rabbit in his mouth.
“Drop it,” Jack commanded.
Diesel dropped the toy and trotted to her side.
As Jack grabbed her duffel, George emerged from the hallway, Ellie on his hip. Slightly rumpled, he looked more relaxed than Ivy had seen him in years.
“Leaving already?” George asked.
“Got errands.” Jack pulled on her jacket. “But I’ll see you Thursday for the meeting.”
“I look forward to it.”
Jack opened the door, and Diesel bounded out ahead of her. “See you Thursday, Duchess.”
She backed down the driveway, one hand out the window in a lazy wave.
George set Ellie down carefully. “Your friend is terrifying.”
“She grows on you.” Ivy smiled.
“So does moss.” He shook his head but returned her smile.
Ryder laughed. “You’ll come to love her. Everyone does eventually.”
Ellie tugged on George’s hand. “Story?”
“Again?” George looked at Ivy, but his expression was warm. “We just read three.”
“More.”
“Perhaps after lunch, Miss Ellie.”
Ellie considered this. “Okay.” She darted off toward her room, already distracted.
George moved to the window, watching Jack’s truck disappear between trees. He clasped his hands behind his back, posture perfect again now that he wasn’t sitting on a floor.
“You’ve built something here, Ives. Not just with Ryder. With all of them.”
“I know.”
He faced her. “I’m so proud of you.”
Ivy swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Thank you.”
George crossed the room and took both of her hands. “You spent your life trying to meet everyone’s expectations—duty, responsibility, propriety. And you were bloody miserable.”
Ivy’s throat tightened.
“And then you came here,” George continued, “and nearly died on a collapsing rig, and found...” He gestured vaguely around the room. “This. And you’re not miserable anymore.”
“No,” she whispered. “I’m not.”
“That’s all that matters.” He kissed her forehead. “Even if you do make me ride in trucks on their last legs.”
“I’m going to make a start on dinner.” Ryder gave her hip a gentle squeeze.
“Ryder makes mean spaghetti. Even one-handed.”
George beamed. “Sounds perfect.”
“I’ll just check he’s managing.” She headed into the kitchen and threaded her arms around Ryder’s waist.
He twisted to face her. “You okay?” he murmured.
“Yeah,” she said. “For the first time in my life, I really am.”
The sound of George chatting to Ellie floated down the hall. Outside, the wind sighed through the pines.
She’d come to Alaska chasing solutions to her family’s problems. The numbers weren’t fixed yet, but the path was clear—and somewhere along the way, she’d found Ryder and Ellie.
Her future stretched before her—not inherited, not obligated.
Chosen.