Chapter Twenty-Six
Ava
Violet bounds down the porch steps with a knit hat only halfway on her head and a backpack bouncing like a happy golden retriever. She spins at the bottom of the path, boots skidding on packed snow.
“Hot chocolate emergency,” she announces. “We’re down to one packet, and I refuse to live that life.”
“You don’t have time for that,” I warn.
She’s already jogging backward, grin bright and unrepentant. “Quick! Promise!”
I cross my arms. “Straight there and straight back. No detours.”
She flashes a thumbs-up that communicates very clearly: Yes, Mom, I heard you and will probably make one detour but with wholesome intentions.
She pivots and disappears up the snowy path, ponytail swinging like trouble.
The cabin behind me is quiet again—painfully quiet. Our home had never felt this hollow before Jax’s place became… something else. I shake the thought off fast, refusing to name what “something else” might be.
I tug my coat tighter. “Clinic. Just checking in,” I say aloud, as if anchoring myself to normal routines.
My car groans when I start it, the cold biting through the engine like teeth. Fine snowflakes swirl in lazy spirals at first—deceptively gentle—the storm they promised still supposedly hours away.
Inside the clinic, warmth hums through the vents. Fluorescent lights buzz. Paper charts shuffle. The world is still calm.
Until the front door bangs open hard enough to rattle glass.
A man stands in the entryway, catching his breath—snow dusting his shoulders, melting into dark patches on his jacket. He forces a polite smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Sorry,” he says, shaking off the cold. “Weather came in faster than expected. Thought I should get checked out—altitude’s messing with me.”
Ellie ushers him to an exam room, cheerful as always. I follow with a chart, heartbeat suddenly too loud in my ears.
He scans the clinic as he moves—eyes sweeping corners, exits, people—the predatory curiosity disguised as interest.
“That avalanche a couple weeks back…” he begins once we’re alone, leaning back like we’re just making conversation. “Word is someone barely made it out.”
I freeze.
“Small town like this,” he continues lightly, eyes razor-sharp, “you’d expect everyone to know who the survivor is.”
I keep my voice controlled. “We treat a lot of emergencies up here.”
“Sure,” he says, lips curling. “But not all emergencies come with a name the world recognizes.”
A tremor shoots through my pulse.
He shifts on the exam table, settling in like he plans to make himself comfortable. Too comfortable.
“So, you must know him,” he says, tone airy. “Jackson Hale?”
I blink once. Slowly. “Who?”
He studies my face like he’s reading a headline off it. “You haven’t heard the name? Billionaire tech mogul? Presumed dead? It was all over the news.”
Ellie, entering notes at the computer, glances up in faint confusion. She shakes her head. “Never heard of him. We don’t get many billionaires up here.”
He laughs, but it’s the wrong kind of laugh—testing, probing. “Well, that’s why it’s such a good place to hide, isn’t it?”
I fold my arms. “Sir, I’ve lived here for years. I know every person who’s set foot in this town for more than a week. No Jackson Hale.”
He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Maybe he’s using a different name.”
Ellie snorts. “Lotta people go by nicknames up here, but a billionaire trying to pass as a lumberjack? Sounds like a movie.”
His eyes cut back to me. “There was an avalanche. Someone was rescued.”
My pulse spikes. “We stabilize people before names. Privacy comes first here. This is a medical facility, not a tabloid.”
He smiles slowly—like a wolf who just learned where the herd sleeps.
“So you have had an unidentified patient recently.”
It wasn’t a statement. It was a trap.
I choose my lie carefully. “We’ve had multiple emergencies because of the storm. But no one who fits whatever conspiracy you’re hoping to uncover.”
His gaze sharpens, locking onto mine like a spotlight.
“Funny,” he says softly. “Because I heard the survivor was a man. Mid-thirties. Dark beard. Smart with his hands. Keeps to himself.”
My body goes cold. He might as well have said Jax out loud.
I push the chart into his hands. “Raise your arm, please. Blood pressure cuff.”
He lifts it, amused. “You’re very calm.”
“I’ve dealt with far worse than altitude sickness and nosy questions.”
Ellie steps in again, smiling. “If you’re here for a checkup, let us do our job. If you’re here for gossip—you’ll be disappointed.”
He chuckles, like she’s a child who doesn’t realize she’s stumbled into a minefield. “I find gossip has a way of turning into fact. And facts into headlines.”
“I’ll tell you what’s a fact,” I say, tightening the cuff around his arm perhaps a little too firmly. “There is no Jackson Hale in Silver Ridge.”
He holds my stare, like he’s tasting the lie on the air.
“Well…” he says, “if you do happen to meet a man up here who looks just like him, you’ll give me a call, won’t you?”
“I don’t make promises to strangers,” I reply.
“Then consider this a polite suggestion,” he murmurs, leaning back with a lazy grin that doesn’t fool me for a second. “Burying the truth never ends well. Especially in places with so much snow.”
The cuff finishes inflating. I yank it off with professional efficiency.
“Storm’s picking up,” he says as he slides off the table. “Hope everyone you care about is somewhere safe.”
Every nerve in my body screams.
He tucks his badge away, shrugs on his coat, and strolls toward reception like he’s simply heading out for coffee.
I step into the hallway immediately—and only when he disappears around the corner do I let my back hit the wall. The building suddenly feels too small, like the walls know what I just heard and are closing in to keep the secret crushingly close.
Ellie touches my arm. “You okay? You went pale.”
“I’m… I’m fine,” I manage, forcing air into my lungs.
She studies me a beat longer but nods, returning to her desk.
I press a hand over my pounding heart.
He knows the name. He knows there was a survivor. He knows Silver Ridge is where to look.
And there’s no cell service strong enough in this storm to warn Jax.
Outside, the wind howls—a hungry, hunting sound.
The mountain is closing in.
And the world is coming for the man I swore I would protect.