Chapter 5
AVA
“Stay close to me, Maisie. I mean it. No wandering off.” I kneeled in front of my daughter, who vibrated with anticipation. She couldn’t wait to go on the hike I’d promised her. I was dreading it more by the minute.
My body was in turmoil. It didn’t know whether it should look forward to seeing Cole again or run the other way.
My attraction to him was still there. His quick grin and blue eyes that sparked when he laughed hadn’t changed, but he had a depth now that had been missing then.
A steadiness in his gaze and movements that didn’t match what I remembered.
Part of me wanted to believe he had changed. That Maisie could have the father she deserved. But I refused to get my hopes up. I needed to be strong and absolutely certain that Cole wouldn’t walk away from Maisie like he did me.
“Let’s go wait outside.” I took her hand and led her onto the front porch just as Cole came around the corner. He looked the part of the mountain man, with a long-sleeved flannel shirt over his T-shirt, worn jeans, hiking boots, and a small pack. His face lit up when he saw us.
“Just the girls I was looking for.” His long strides covered the distance between us, and he kneeled in front of Maisie as he held out a carved stick a little shorter than her. “I made you a hiking stick, Maisie.”
Her eyes sparkled as she took it from him and studied it. “Momma, look!”
I followed her finger to the carving. He’d carved a rough, jagged shape at the top. It looked a bit like a horse with a pointy hat. My gaze cut to Cole, whose cheeks flushed red under my curious stare.
“It's supposed to be a unicorn.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking more nervous than a man his size should be. “Saw her shirt. Figured it would be a safe bet.”
“They’re her favorite animal. She’s convinced they’re real.
” I lowered my voice so only he heard me as Maisie continued exclaiming over the walking stick.
“It’s a very thoughtful gift.” The words were tight in my throat.
It was true, but it annoyed me that he was good at this.
It would be easier if he was a jerk, if I could hate him without this confusing tug in my chest.
“I wanted her to have something to remember me by, just in case.” He cleared his throat, his eyes darting away. “I picked an easy path for today, but it has great views.”
We crossed the open yard of the inn to a trailhead. The walkway was well-maintained and wide enough for us to walk next to each other. Maisie darted ahead. “Maisie. Stay with us.”
She slowed, but the hum of excitement running through her was visible as she tried to use the walking stick Cole had given her. Her rhythm was off, making her movements awkward. He moved to her side. “Let me show you how to use that.”
He demonstrated by walking on his knees so that the stick wouldn’t be too short for him, making Maisie giggle. She copied his actions. He made a slight correction before she moved easily with the stick. She grinned up at him—so much like him my heart hurt—and said, “Thanks, Mr. Cole.”
Then she started with the questions. She wanted every tree named. I knew some answers, but soon Cole had to step in and take over. He was patient with her and able to talk on her level without making either of us feel stupid for not knowing.
“A bluebird.” Maisie pointed at a flash of color in a nearby pine tree.
Cole followed her finger, a small smile tweaking his lips. “Close. That’s a Steller’s Jay. See the black mohawk?” He glanced up at me, a playful glint in his eye that made my stomach flip. “He’s the rebel of the bird world. Loud. Flashy. Probably trouble.”
Maisie giggled. “He’s a rock star.”
“Exactly,” Cole agreed, voice low and warm. “He’s loud like one, too. Listen.”
The bird squawked loudly, over and over again, as if making sure we didn’t miss him.
Cole laughed with Maisie as she giggled, their heads close together.
My heart thawed slightly. He was so gentle and easy with her, and she had accepted his presence so readily.
Whatever happened to him in the last six years to bring him to this place had changed him. That was clear.
The question was whether it had changed him enough to stick around.
A little further down the trail, Maisie tired. Her feet dragged and her excitement waned. Before I suggested we turn around and head back, Cole jumped in. “Hey, Maisie, want me to carry you on my shoulders? You’ll have the best view up there.”
I wanted to say no. He still hadn’t convinced me I could trust him fully with my daughter. But then her face lit up, and she nodded so fast her hair whipped around. He lifted her with ease, settling her on his shoulders and holding her legs to keep her from falling.
She laughed long and loud, waving her arms around. “Momma, look at me. I’m tall.”
“You are. How’s the view?”
His hands gripped her small ankles securely. Large, capable hands. The kind that could build furniture or cradle a baby. Seeing my daughter perched on his broad shoulders, safe and high above the world, did something dangerous to my heart. It made me want to lean on him too.
Like we were the family we always should have been. The family I always secretly wanted, even as I insisted to others Maisie was all I needed.
We could have had this if he hadn’t walked away.
We continued down the trail, my lips tight as I held in the words I wouldn’t say in front of my daughter. Maisie was content to ride on Cole’s shoulders as she studied the forest and mountains around us with wide eyes.
Cole pitched his voice low and asked, “Tell me about Maisie.”
“What do you want to know?” I kept my voice cool.
“Everything. But start with her favorite color. Purple, right?”
I looked at him. Really looked at him. He wasn’t just being polite. He was starving for information.
“She loves purple,” I said softly. “And superheroes. She hates crust on her sandwiches, but loves it on toast. Except on Tuesdays.”
He grinned, his eyes full of wonder. “Tell me more.”
I didn't want to smile back. I wanted to stay mad. But talking about Maisie was the one thing that cracked my armor. Against my better judgment, I told him about her first T-ball game, her endless curiosity, and anything else I could think of.
He listened with rapt attention, and when I finished talking, we shared a genuine smile. One that spoke to a shared connection with this child we had made.
He reached out and squeezed my hand. “You did a great job with her, Ava. She’s amazing.”
His touch sent a jolt through me, but the compliment tasted like ash. I didn't have a choice, I wanted to scream. I stiffened and pulled my hand back, shoving it in my pocket. "I didn't do it for the applause, Cole. I did it because I was the only one there."
His eyes dimmed, but I refused to let it move me. I agreed to give him another chance. I didn’t agree to pretend the last six years didn’t happen.
We rounded a curve in the path and my breath caught in my throat at the mountain view laid out in front of us. Maisie started bouncing on Cole’s shoulders in excitement. We approached the overlook, and I pulled out my phone to snap a photo.
“Take a picture of me and Mr. Cole, Momma.”
I stepped back and Cole turned them to face me. Maisie spread her arms wide, her big grin matching Cole’s exactly. I took several shots, and I realized this would be the first picture Maisie had of her with her father. Maybe the only one.
Maisie’s next question stilled me, and panic rose.
“Do you have a little girl, Mr. Cole?”
The silence stretched, tight and painful. Cole stopped walking. He looked up at her, and the raw longing on his face nearly brought me to my knees.
“No, Maisie,” he said, his voice thick. “I don’t have a little girl at home. But I’m hoping… I’m hoping I can fix that soon.”
He shot a glance at me. A challenge. A promise.
After we returned to our room at the inn, Maisie yawned as I got her ready for a nap. “Is Mr. Cole going to be at the fire? I like him.”
“It’s at his cabin, so yes, you’ll see him there.” I laid her down and covered her with a blanket. “Get some rest, sweetie.”
As Maisie napped, I sat in a chair looking out the window. Such simple words with such a big meaning. I like him. I had to admit I liked him, too. Even more than I did six years ago.
And that terrified me. Almost as much as the anger sitting just out of reach, threatening to turn to rage if I didn’t stop it. But I didn’t know how. It kept tightening its grip on me, whispering to me. Asking why now, and not six years ago.