"We'll find him tomorrow," Liam said quietly. "Give him tonight."
I wanted to argue. The need to see him was a physical ache in my chest. But Liam was right. Jack needed this. Whatever hewas doing out there in the mountains, with his family's memory and his own grief, he needed to finish it.
I could wait one more night.
We found a motel on the edge of town—nothing fancy, just clean beds and hot water and a diner next door that served breakfast all day. Stephanie and Liam took one room; I took the other.
I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out Jack's note, unfolding it carefully along the worn creases. I'd read these words so many times I had them memorized. But tonight, with Jack somewhere out in those mountains saying goodbye to his family, they felt less like an accusation and more like an invitation.
Tomorrow, I would choose him. Not because I wasn't scared anymore—I was terrified. But because some things were worth being terrified for.
I loved him. I was scared. I was choosing him anyway.
That was it. That was everything.
Sleep came eventually, fitful and full of dreams I couldn't quite remember. But when I woke to gray Montana light filtering through cheap motel curtains, I felt something I hadn't felt in days.
Calm.
Not because I wasn't scared. But the fear had transformed into something that felt almost like courage. I'd driven three thousand miles to find a man I loved. I'd let Liam and Stephanie see me vulnerable, broken, desperate, in a way I hadn’t let anyone in my family see me. I'd admitted things I'd never said out loud before.
I'd already started coming all the way. Now I just had to finish.
25
Maggie
We found him at dusk.
The bar was small and weathered, the kind of place that had been serving the same families for three generations. Pickups lined the gravel lot. Neon signs flickered in the windows. The mountains rose behind it, purple and gold in the fading light, and my heart was pounding so hard I was surprised the whole town couldn't hear it.
Liam parked the truck. No one moved.
"That's his truck," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. The old Ford with Texas plates, dusty from the road, parked near the door.
He was here. After three thousand miles and three days and a lifetime of fear, he was right there, fifty feet away.
Stephanie leaned forward from the back seat and squeezed my shoulder. "You've got this."
My hands were shaking. My mouth was dry. Every speech I'd rehearsed and then thrown away was rattling around in my empty head, and I couldn't remember a single word of any of them. I was about to walk into a bar and lay my heart open for aman who might not want it anymore, and I had never been more terrified in my life.
"Mags." Liam's voice was steady, grounding. "You're ready."
I nodded. I didn't trust my voice.
Liam reached over and opened my door. "Go on."
I got out of the truck.
The walk to the bar felt like miles. My boots crunched on gravel. The evening air was cool, carrying the scent of pine and woodsmoke and something that might be hope.
I pushed it open and stepped inside.
The bar was dim and warm, country music playing low on an old jukebox. A few locals nursed beers at scattered tables. The bartender glanced up, nodded, went back to wiping glasses. And there—at the far end of the bar, alone, his back to the door—was Jack.
Sully saw me first.
The dog's head lifted from his paws, ears pricking forward. He made a soft sound—not quite a bark, more like recognition—and Jack turned.
