Chapter 10
TEN
Jackson
The first thing I notice when I wake up is that the bed is cold. For a second, my brain is slow to catch up. I blink at the ceiling, still half asleep, trying to figure out what feels wrong.
Then it hits me. Fern isn’t here.
I sit up so fast the room spins. “Fern?”
My voice sounds rough, thick with sleep and something darker.
Silence answers me.
The hotel room is quiet. Too quiet. Her suitcase is gone.
My chest tightens.
No.
I throw the covers back and swing my legs over the side of the bed, scanning the room like I’m clearing a hostile building.
Bathroom—empty.
Closet—empty.
Every muscle in my body goes rigid. Then I see it.
A small, folded piece of paper is sitting on the nightstand.
My heart starts pounding as I grab it. Just a few words stare back at me.
Thank you for this week, Jackson. It was the best of my life. I’ll miss you.
Yours,
Fern
That’s it. No explanation. No promise to call. No number. Just… bye?
She’ll miss me?
For a second, I can’t breathe. The panic hits hard and fast, the same gut-deep dread I used to feel in combat when something went sideways.
She left. She’s gone.
Hell, no.
I shove a hand through my hair and look at the clock. 7:12 AM. Her flight. She said she was on the first one out this morning.
Adrenaline floods my system, and I move fast, grabbing my jeans from the floor and dragging them on.
My boots follow. I yank a shirt over my head and shove my wallet and phone into my pockets.
I race to my room to grab my things. My duffel bag sits by the door.
I grab it and sling it over my shoulder.
Everything else—my apartment and stuff here, finishing this job with Cal—can all wait. Right now, only one thing matters.
Fern.
I bolt out of the room and down the hallway. The elevator takes too long, so I take the stairs two at a time, bursting out into the lobby like I’m on a damn mission. Because I am.
The drive to the airport is a blur. My hands grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles ache. Every red light feels like a personal insult. My brain runs through every possible outcome.
What if I miss her? What if she’s already in the air? What if she doesn’t want to see me?
No, that last one doesn’t sit right because I saw the way she looked at me last night. The way she melted into my arms when I carried her upstairs. The way she almost said something before she fell asleep.
She feels it too. I know she does. She’s just scared. Which means it’s my job to fix that.
I skid into the airport parking lot and barely remember locking the car before I sprint inside. The ticket counter comes into view, and I head straight for it. The woman behind the desk looks up in surprise.
“I need a ticket to Oregon,” I say, slightly out of breath.
She blinks. “Oregon?”
“Wolf Valley area. Whatever is the closest airport.”
She types quickly. “There’s a flight boarding soon. Really soon. Gate twelve.”
“Perfect.”
She gives me a look like she has a hundred questions, but I don’t care. I swipe my card, and a minute later, I’m running through the terminal with my boarding pass in hand.
Gate twelve.
I scan the crowd, searching for Fern’s familiar head of blonde hair. Then I see her.
Fern. My Fern. Sitting in one of the chairs near the gate, her carry-on at her feet, staring out the big windows at the runway.
Her blonde hair falls over her shoulders, the morning light catching it.
She looks small, tired, and sad. My chest tightens.
I’m still pissed that she tried to leave without me, but I can’t stand to see her looking that way.
Hell, no.
I storm across the waiting area, my boots hitting the floor hard enough that a few people glance up. Fern doesn’t notice until I’m right in front of her.
Her head snaps up, and her blue eyes widen. “Jackson? What are you doing here?”
I grab her by the arms and haul her to her feet. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I growl.
Her mouth opens. Closes. “Jackson, what—”
“You just leave?” I cut in, my voice low and rough. “You just walk out of that room like none of this meant anything?”
Her eyes flash. “I left you a note.”
“Yeah, I saw your damn note. Thank God I woke up in time.”
She stares at me like she can’t believe that I’m really here.
“You think two damn sentences count as a goodbye?” I demand.
Her cheeks flush. “I didn’t want to make things harder,” she admits softly.
“Harder?”
“Yes!” she bursts out. “Jackson, this was supposed to be a fling. A few days. Something fun before I went home.”
I stare at her. “A fling? That’s what you think? When did we agree to that?”
“I… I just thought that…” She trails off, her eyes filling with tears.
“Bullshit. This was never a fling for either of us. It damn sure wasn’t for me, and I know it wasn’t for you either.”
Her breath catches.
“You don’t run from a fling,” I continue. “You don’t look like your heart’s breaking when you leave.”
Her chin trembles. “You don’t know that.”
“I know you.”
“You met me a week ago.”
“And it was the best week of my life.”
Silence crashes between us. People move around us in the terminal, boarding announcements echoing in the background, but I barely hear any of it. All I see is Fern.
Tears shimmer in her eyes. “I couldn’t stay,” she whispers. “Jackson… I live three thousand miles away.”
“So?”
“So it’s not realistic!”
“I don’t give a damn about realistic.”
She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You’d leave everything here?”
“Yes.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes.”
Her voice breaks. “Why?”
The word punches straight through my chest, because the truth is simple. “Because I love you.”
The words hang between us. Fern freezes, and her eyes fill with tears. “You—”
“I love you,” I repeat. “And you’re not getting on that plane without me.”
Her breath shudders. “I was trying to make it easier.”
“Easier for who?”
“For you,” she whispers.
I shake my head. “Leaving would’ve been the worst damn thing you could’ve done to me.”
She looks down. “I didn’t think you’d want to give up your life here.”
I reach for her hands. “My life isn’t here. It’s wherever you are.”
A tear slips down her cheek. I wipe it away with my thumb.
“Fern.”
Her voice trembles. “I love you too.”
The words hit me like a freight train. Relief floods my chest so hard I almost laugh. “Good,” I say roughly. “Because I already bought the ticket.”
Her eyebrows lift. “You what?”
“We’re boarding.”
She glances toward the gate. “But—what about your stuff? Your apartment? Your job?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.”
She studies me for a long moment. Then something soft spreads across her face. Something that looks a lot like hope. “Now what?”
I take her hand. “Now we go home.”
Her lips curve into a smile. “To Wolf Valley?”
I nod. “To Wolf Valley.”
The boarding line moves. I lace my fingers through hers, and Fern squeezes my hand like she never plans to let go. Neither do I.
My apartment back in Tidehaven, my stuff, all of that can wait because right now… the only thing that matters is my woman.