We'd left before dawn, Liam's truck packed with overnight bags and coolers and the quiet determination of people on a mission. Stephanie had kissed my cheek when I climbed in and said, "We're going to find him."
Not maybe. Not I hope. Just certainty, warm and steady, like it was already done.
The first day was tracking.
Liam had made calls before we left—Ranger network, veteran contacts, people who knew people who understood how men like Jack moved through the world. By the time we hit theOklahoma border, he had a lead: a feed store outside Amarillo where a quiet guy with a shepherd had bought supplies three days ago. Paid cash. Mentioned he was heading north.
Three days. Jack had been three days ahead of me when I was still falling apart. While I was crying in the office, he was already putting distance between us.
But he was leaving a trail.
"He's not hiding," Liam said, glancing at me. "He's just moving. There's a difference."
"How do you know?"
"Because if he wanted to disappear, you'd never find him." Liam's eyes returned to the road. "Jack knows how to vanish—after the training he's had. The fact that he's leaving a trail means he wants to be found." He paused. "He's just waiting to see if you're brave enough to follow."
We stopped in Amarillo to confirm the lead. The feed store was exactly the kind of place Jack would have stopped—practical, no-nonsense, run by a weathered man in his sixties who looked like he'd been selling supplies to ranchers since before I was born.
He remembered Jack immediately.
"Hard to forget a man that polite with a dog that well-trained," he said, leaning against the counter. "Most folks come through here in a hurry. This one took his time. Asked about work in the area, actually."
My heart lurched. "Did he take any?"
"Nope. Seemed like he was just passing through." The owner scratched his chin. "Mentioned something about heading north. Family business, I think he said."
"He's not settling," I told Liam and Stephanie as we got back in the truck. "He's still running."
"He's not running," Stephanie said from the back seat. "He's processing. There's a difference.” I turned to look at her, findinga hard time believing it. "Jack knows what he's moving toward," Stephanie continued. "He's just waiting to see if it's going to meet him halfway."
The second day was harder.
We picked up Jack's trail at a ranch outside Pueblo, where he'd spent two days gentling a horse that had been mishandled. The foreman remembered him clearly.
"Fixed that mare in two days," the foreman said, shaking his head in admiration. "She'd been nothing but trouble since we bought her—wouldn't let anyone near her, kicked the last trainer clear across the paddock. This guy just... talked to her. Quiet-like. Didn't push. By the second afternoon, she was eating out of his hand."
"He say anything about where he was headed?" Liam asked.
"Not much. Kept to himself, mostly. Good worker, though. Showed up early, stayed late, didn't complain." The foreman glanced at me. "Seemed like a man who was working through something. You know the type—keeps his hands busy so his mind doesn't have too much time to think."
I knew the type. I was the type.
"He mentioned Montana," the foreman added. "Said he had something to take care of up there. Unfinished business, maybe."
"He's never been back," I said quietly as we got on the road. "Not since the funeral."
Liam nodded. "Men like Jack—when they're trying to figure out who they are, they go back to where they started."
Somewhere in Wyoming, I finally said it all out loud.
We'd stopped for gas and bad coffee at a truck stop that smelled like diesel and regret. Stephanie was inside buying snacks. Liam leaned against the truck beside me, both of us watching the sun sink toward the mountains, and the silence between us felt like an invitation.
"I was so scared," I said. The words came out rough, unplanned. "Of wanting him. Of letting him see me—really see me, not just the version that fixes things and holds everything together."
Liam didn't respond. He just waited, giving me space to find the words.
"I've spent my whole life being needed," I continued. "That's how I know I matter—because people need me. Because I'm useful. Because if I stopped holding everything together, it would all fall apart." I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "And then Jack showed up, and he didn't need me to fix anything. He just... wanted me. For no reason. Without conditions."
