Chapter 18
After reluctantly pulling away from the last kiss on Justice’s front porch, Tyler drove back to his grandfather’s house…
well, his house now. It would still take getting used to being the owner, rather than just visiting.
He was filled with a strange mix of satisfaction and sorrow.
The quiet that greeted him inside wasn’t unexpected, but it still pressed down hard on his chest. No TV murmuring in the background.
No low chuckle or off-key humming coming from the kitchen. Just stillness.
He closed the door behind him, exhaling slowly.
The fresh scent of paint hit his senses, and he gave a small nod of approval.
Painting the living room had been a good decision.
It was his first real step toward honoring the past without being trapped by it.
The bones of the house would stay, but it needed to reflect the life he was building, not just the one that had come before.
Grabbing a cold beer from the fridge, he stepped out onto the back deck and dropped into the old chair he used to claim next to where his grandfather would sit.
He propped his boots on the rail, letting the wooden slats creak beneath the shift of his weight, and tipped his head back.
Above him, the sky stretched wide and velvet-black, littered with stars that blinked like beacons.
He’d stared up at this same sky from deserts and jungles and mountaintops.
Always watching. Always waiting. A sniper’s vigil wasn’t romantic.
It was long hours of stillness, muscle cramps, sweat in his eyes, and tension that coiled like a wire inside him.
But sometimes when there was nothing to do but wait, he and his spotter would lie in silence, just marveling at the sky.
It had been the one thing that felt the same no matter where they were in the world.
He took a long pull from the beer and let the silence settle over him.
Am I fixing this place up just to sell it?
The question drifted in and out of his mind.
If I did sell, where would I go? He had no ties to any other place.
No roots. Nowhere else did this land and this view in a quiet corner of Montana exist.
His gaze slid to the right, to the glow of light still shining in the upstairs window of Justice’s house in the distance.
A smile tugged at his lips. One week. That was all it had taken for her to mean more to him than he could have predicted.
Her strength, her fire, the way her eyes softened when she looked at him.
He wasn’t ready to name it, but damn if it didn’t feel like something real.
Maybe this wasn’t just a coincidence. Perhaps it was a sign.
He huffed a laugh. His grandmother always believed in signs.
She used to say that the universe had a funny way of pointing you in the right direction if you kept your heart open.
Tyler had seen too much and done too much to get caught up in magical thinking.
But he’d also seen enough things he couldn’t explain to stop ruling it out completely.
He leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the cool night air brush over his face.
This place felt more like home than anywhere he’d ever been. And that wasn’t just nostalgia talking. It was clarity.
Logan’s offer drifted through his mind again.
The man had made it clear that being a Keeper wasn’t just about muscle or training.
It was about integrity. About protecting people who couldn’t protect themselves.
That mission settled inside Tyler like something he’d been waiting for without even knowing it.
With the last sip of beer, he pushed to his feet and stepped back into the house.
The clock on the stove showed it was a little after nine o’clock, but he didn’t hesitate.
When he made a decision, he acted. Pulling up the contact Cory had given him, he found Logan’s number and hit call. The line clicked after one ring.
“Tyler?” Logan’s voice was alert despite the hour.
“Sorry for calling so late,” Tyler said.
“I’ve been working through the house, like you suggested.
And I realized something. I’m not fixing this place to put it on the market.
I’m fixing it because I want to stay. And the more I think about it, the more I want to be a part of what you’re doing.
If you’re still open to interviewing me, I’d be honored to apply for and be considered as a Keeper. ”
There was a brief pause before Logan replied, his voice warm with approval. “That’s damn good to hear. Can you come by tomorrow?”
“Give me a time.”
“Well”, Logan chuckled. “The team has PT training up on the mountain at seven a.m. How about you swing by at six thirty? You can join the crew and see what we’re about. After that, we’ll sit down and talk.”
“I’ll be there.”
They disconnected, and Tyler grinned as he tossed the bottle into the recycling bin. He locked the doors, then climbed the stairs, his movements lighter than they’d been in a long time.
In the bathroom mirror, the man staring back at him looked the same with his rugged jaw, dark eyes, and hair now a little too shaggy on top.
But there was a spark there. Something new.
Something hopeful. By the time he crawled into bed, the grin still lingered on his face.
Tomorrow was going to come fucking early. And he couldn’t wait.
At six-fifteen sharp, Tyler eased his SUV up to the gate of Lighthouse Security Investigations Montana. The metal arms were sleek and unassuming, but the reinforced frame and dual camera system reminded him of what he had remembered from his last visit. Security here was no joke.
He rolled down his window and gave his name to the speaker. A quiet buzz preceded the smooth glide of the gate as it opened. He drove through, following the familiar path past the building where he and Logan had first sat down at their last meeting.
Ahead, Cory stood with his usual cocky grin, waving him toward a gravel lot where a few trucks and SUVs were already parked.
The sky was still streaked with the sun barely rising, and the lingering chill of the early morning filled his lungs with crisp, clear air.
Tyler stepped out, dressed in black shorts and a faded Go Army T-shirt, boots laced tight.
He hadn’t asked what kind of training the team was doing today, but instinct had guided his wardrobe, and it looked like he’d nailed it.
The group ahead was similarly dressed, all of them stretching or adjusting their packs.
Cory pulled him into a quick man-hug, clapping him on the back. “You ready for the pain?”
Tyler grinned. “Define pain.”
Together, they walked toward the group, and he exchanged greetings with a few of the Keepers he’d already met. All sharp-eyed but smiling in an easygoing manner.
Logan emerged from the side building, striding toward them with a sense of command that didn’t need to be shouted. He nodded to Tyler and offered a firm handshake.
“Glad you made it. Easy run this morning. A team against the B team. Bert’s already waiting at the top. Losing team buys the beer next time we go out.”
He held up a rucksack, and Tyler watched with amusement as the Keepers took turns reaching inside without looking. Orange or yellow shirts were pulled out in random order. No complaints, no switches. Just part of the deal.
Cory snagged a yellow one and held it up. “You’re stuck with me,” he said, tossing Tyler a matching shirt. Tyler caught it, chuckling under his breath.
The two teams started off in different directions, each taking a separate trail that would wind around and converge at the top.
Tyler fell in step with Cory, Sadie, Casper, Todd, and Frazier.
Their pace was comfortable at first, enough to chat as they moved.
Cory gave a running commentary, informal but informative.
“You’ll meet Bert at the summit,” he said, nodding ahead. “He’s the compound manager. Keeps the place running like clockwork. Mary runs the inside comms, logistics, and coordination. If Bert’s the engine, she’s the wiring.”
The terrain gradually shifted from a soft incline to sharp gravel switchbacks. Conversation dropped off as breathing picked up. Tyler welcomed the silence. It was the kind of quiet work that didn’t need to be explained—just legs pumping and lungs burning as their eyes scanned the trail.
His body remembered this. The discipline. The push. The way his muscles argued with him, and he shut them up with grit. He hadn’t been out of the Army long enough to lose the edge, but being an instructor, he hadn’t been forced on long runs in a while.
Around the forty-minute mark, the trail curved tighter, and the trees began to thin. Sunlight filtered through, bathing the mountain ridge in a soft gold. Tyler glanced at Cory, who smirked and shouted, “We’re almost there!”
Tyler raised an eyebrow. “And the other team?”
“East trail. Rougher at the end, but a longer warm-up. If they beat us, it’ll be barely.”
As if on cue, they heard distant laughter and cheers echoing off the rocks above. They pushed harder, rounding a final outcropping, and there they were. The other team, cresting from the opposite side, led by Sisco, muscled and grinning like he’d just stolen something.
Ahead, Frazier let out a holler and surged forward, barreling toward a flagpole staked into the mountaintop. From the other direction, Sisco did the same. They collided at the pole in a chaotic, laughing tangle, arms grappling over the red flag fluttering in the breeze.
Both emerged holding it above their heads in mock victory.
“Looks like everybody’s buying their own beer,” said a broad, thickly built man with a buzzed head and a grin as wide as the sky. He passed out water bottles, handing one to Tyler last.
“I’m Bert,” the man said, gripping Tyler’s hand in a firm shake. “Good to have you with us this morning.”