Chapter 5: : Chapter 5

Four Months Later Beck, If you’re reading this, blah, blah. You know the last-letter drill. You made it. I didn’t. Get off the guilt train, because I know you, and if there were any chance you could have saved me, you would have. If there were any way you could have changed the outcome, you would have. So whatever deep, dark hole of guilt you’re wallowing in, stop.

I need one thing from you: Get your ass to Telluride. I know your ETS date is right with mine. Take it.

Ella’s all alone. Not in the alone way that she has been, but really, truly alone. Our grandmother, our parents, and now me. It’s too much to ask her to endure. It’s not fair.

But here’s the kicker: Maisie is sick. She’s only six, Beck, and my niece might die.

So if I’m gone, that means I can’t get home in January like we’d planned. I can’t be there for her. I can’t help Ella through this, or play soccer with my nephew, or hold my niece. But you can. So I’m begging you, as my best friend, go take care of my sister, my family. Do whatever you can to save my little Maisie.

It’s not fair to ask; I know that. It’s against your nature to care, to not accomplish a mission and move on, but I need this. Maisie and Colt need it. Ella needs it—needs you, though she’ll fight you tooth and nail before she ever admits it. Help her even when she swears she’s fine.

Don’t make her go through it alone.

I’ll save you a seat on the other side, brother, but take your time. Take every single second you can. You are the only brother I would have wished for, and my very best friend. And just in case no one ever told you—you’re worthy. Of love. Of family. Of home.

So while you’re searching for those things, please make sure Telluride is where you look. At least for a little while.

~ Ryan …

The mountains rose up above me, impossibly tall considering I was already at almost nine thousand feet. Sure, the air felt thinner, but it was also somehow easier to breathe.

Havoc rested her head on the leather console between our seats as I drove my truck through downtown Telluride. It was Norman Rockwell perfect. Bricked and painted storefronts, families strolling with children. Not quite the tourist haven I was expecting.

It looked like a hometown was supposed to.

It just wasn’t my hometown.

It was Ryan’s. Mac was buried here, at least that was what I’d been told. They’d only sent back Captain Donahue and a couple other guys for the funeral. I’d been kept in the field with the rest of the unit, too valuable to be given leave.

I knew the truth: it wasn’t me—at least not with the state I was in then. It was Havoc. They needed her, and she would only listen to me.

I rubbed the top of her head, promising her silently that she’d have a peaceful life from now on. That as quickly as we’d both been given terminal leave, she deserved a little peace.

Me? I lived in a hell of my own making. One that I more than deserved.

I stopped to fill the tank before heading out of town, following my GPS to the address online for Solitude.

Solitude. How fitting. Alone.

I was alone.

Ella was alone.

And we’d remain that way, because we’d never be together. I’d seen to that when I’d stopped writing the day Ryan died.

But I could do this. For Ryan. For Ella. But not for me. Thinking it was for me implied there was some kind of redemption that I was worthy of.

There wasn’t. What I’d done was beyond any redemption.

My jaw flexed, and my hands tightened on the wheel as I approached the private drive. I made the turn, my gaze catching the mailbox that hung at a haphazard angle on the post. How many times had she gone there looking for my letters? How many times had she found one and smiled? Twenty-four.

How many times had she made the walk without one? Wondered what happened to me? Maybe she thought I’d died on the op with Ryan. Maybe it was better that way.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

I drove up the asphalt drive, under the budding aspen trees that lined the way. Ryan would have said there was something fitting about arriving in spring, during the period of rebirth, but that was a load of crap.

There was no rebirth for me. No new beginning. I wasn’t here to watch life begin; I was here to help Ella if it ended for Maisie. If Ella even let me near.

The pit in my stomach was entirely too familiar, reducing me to that skinny, quiet kid I’d been twenty years ago, showing up at yet another family’s house, hoping this one wouldn’t find a reason to make him someone else’s problem. Hoping this time he wouldn’t pack his stuff in another garbage bag when he accidentally broke a dish or some rule he hadn’t known existed, then be labeled “troubled” and shuffled to another, stricter home.

At least this time I already knew what rules I’d broken and was more than aware that my time here was finite.

I pulled up to the circular drive in front of the main house, which matched the pictures I’d seen online. It looked like a log cabin, except huge. The style was modernized rustic, if that was even a thing, and somehow it spoke to me, reminded me of a time when men harvested entire trees to build houses in the wilderness for their women.

When they built things instead of destroyed them.

My feet hit the ground, and I paused, waiting for Havoc to jump down before shutting the door.

I threw the signal for heel, and she came right to my side. We climbed the small staircase that led to a wide porch, complete with rockers and a porch swing. The boxes that lined the porch railing were empty, cleaned out and ready for planting.

This was it. I was about to meet Ella.

What the hell was I going to say? Hey, I’m sorry I quit writing you, but let’s face it, I break everything I touch and didn’t want you to be next? I’m sorry Ryan died? I’m sorry it wasn’t me? Your brother sent me to watch out for you, so if you could just pretend that you don’t hate me, that would be great? I’m sorry I ghosted you? I’m sorry I couldn’t bring myself to read any of your letters that came after he died? I’m so sorry for so many things that I can’t even list them all?

If I said any of that, if she knew who I really was—why I’d stopped writing—she’d never let me help her. I’d get a boot in the ass and sent on my way. She’d already admitted in her letters that she didn’t give second chances to people who hurt her family, and I didn’t blame her. It was a torturous irony that in order to fulfill Ryan’s wish to help Ella, I’d have to do the one thing she hated—lie…at least by omission.

Just add it to the growing list of my sins.

“Are you thinking about going in? Or are you just going to stand out here?”

I turned to see an older man in his sixties coming toward me. Those were some crazy eyebrows. He dusted off his hand on his jeans and reached for mine.

We shook with a firm grip. This had to be Larry.

“You our new arrival?”

I nodded. “Beckett Gentry.”

“Larry Fischer. I’m Solitude’s groundskeeper.” He dropped to his haunches in front of Havoc but didn’t touch her. “And who might this be?”

“This is Havoc. She’s a retired military working dog.”

“You her handler?” He stood without petting her, and I immediately liked him. It was rare that people respected her personal space…or mine.

“I was. Now I think she’s mine.”

His gaze narrowed a bit, like he was searching for something in my face. After a prolonged silence, which felt like an inspection, he nodded. “Okay. Let’s get you two settled in.”

A bell chimed lightly as we entered the pristine foyer. The interior was as warm as the exterior, the walls painted in soft hues that looked professionally designed to give it a modern farmhouse look.

Yeah, I’d seen way too much HGTV in the last month. Stupid waiting rooms.

“Oh! You must be Mr. Gentry!” a chipper voice called from behind the long reception desk. The girl looked to be in her early twenties, with a wide smile, brown eyes, and hair to match. High-maintenance but pretty. Hailey.

“How would you know that?” I took out my wallet, careful not to dislodge the letter in my back pocket.

She blinked at me rapidly before dropping her eyes.

Shit. I was going to have to work on softening my tone now that I was a civilian—well, almost a civilian. Whatever.

“You’re our only check-in today.” She clicked through her computer.

I’d be checking out if Ella realized who I was. Then I’d have to find another way to help without her filing stalking charges. Although I’m sure Ryan would have gotten a kick out of that one, he wouldn’t be laughing if I couldn’t help her.

“Any preference for your cabin? We’ve got quite a few open now that the season is finally closed.”

“Whatever you have will be fine.”

“Are you sure? You’re booked for—wow! Seven months? Is that right?” She clicked quickly, like she’d found a mistake.

“That’s right.” I’d never stayed in one place for seven months in my life. But seven months took me to the anniversary of Maisie’s diagnosis, so it seemed prudent to book out a cabin. It wasn’t like I was buying a house here or anything.

She looked at me like I owed her an explanation.

Well, this was awkward.

“So if I could get a map?” I suggested.

“Of course. I’m sorry. We’ve just never had a guest stay that long. It caught me off guard.”

“No problem.”

“Wouldn’t it be cheaper to get an apartment?” she asked quietly. “Not that I’m implying that you can’t pay. Shit, Ella’s going to kill me if I keep offending guests.” She mumbled that last part.

I put my debit card on the counter in hopes that it would expedite the process.

“Run the entire amount. I’ll cover incidentals as I go. And yeah, it probably would.” That was as much of an explanation as she was going to get.

A ridiculous transaction amount later, I put my wallet away and thanked my younger self for saving like a poor kid determined to never go hungry again. I wasn’t poor anymore, or a kid, but I would never wonder where my next meal was coming from ever again.

“Is that…a dog?” an older woman asked, her tone soft but incredulous.

“Yes, ma’am.” The woman seemed to be the same age as Larry, and by the look of her, had to be Ada. I had the weirdest feeling of stepping into a reality show that I’d only ever watched. I knew who each of them were from Ella’s letters, but to them I was a complete stranger.

“Well, we don’t have dogs here.” Her gaze locked onto Havoc like she might immediately grow fleas and infest the place.

Shit. If Havoc went, so did I.

“She goes where I go.” My standard answer flew out of my mouth before I censored myself.

Ada gave me a look I’m sure must have sent Ella running when she was younger. I gritted my teeth and tried again.

“I wasn’t aware of that policy when I made the reservation. My apologies.”

“He’s paid up through November!” Hailey said from behind the desk.

“November?” Ada’s mouth dropped open.

“Don’t worry, love.” Larry walked over to his wife and put his arm around her waist. “She’s a military working dog. She’s not going to ruin the carpet or anything.”

“Retired,” I corrected him as Havoc sat perfectly still, reading the atmosphere.

“Why was she retired? Is she aggressive? We have small children here, and we can’t have anyone bitten.” Ada wrung her hands—actually twisted them. It was plain to see her conflict. I was paid through seven months, most of which were in their off-season. I was guaranteed income.

“She retired because I did, and she wouldn’t listen to anyone else.” I’d been her handler for six years and couldn’t imagine my life without her, so it worked out. “She’ll only bite on my command or in my defense. She’s never peed on the carpet or attacked a child. That I can promise you.”

She wasn’t the child-killer in the room.

I was.

“She’ll be fine, Ada.” Larry whispered something into her ear that made her peer a little closer, wrinkling the fine skin of her forehead. Then they had a wordless conversation full of raised eyebrows and head nods.

“Okay, fine. But you’re on your own for feeding her. Hailey, put him in the Aspen cabin. That one is due for new carpet next year anyway. Welcome to Solitude, Mr.…”

“Gentry,” I supplied with a slight nod, remembering to force a quick smile that I hoped didn’t look like a grimace. “Beckett Gentry.”

“Well, Mr. Gentry. Breakfast is served between seven a.m. and nine a.m. Dinner can be arranged, but you’re on your own for lunch, and so is…”

“Havoc.”

“Havoc,” she said, her face softening when Havoc tilted her head at the mention of her name. “Well, okay then. Larry, why don’t you show him to his cabin?”

Larry whistled as we walked out. “That was a close one.”

“Seemed like it,” I agreed, opening the truck door. Havoc leaped inside in a single, smooth motion.

“Wow. She’s got some jump in her.”

“You should see her take a wall. She’s incredible.”

“A Lab, huh? I thought all those dogs were shepherds and stuff. A Lab seems too soft for that kind of work.”

“Oh, trust me, her bite is way sharper than her bark.”

A few minutes later, I drove the truck along the tight, paved road that wove through most of the property. The Aspen cabin was on the western side, near the edge of a small lake. Havoc would be in heaven. Having studied the area, I knew there were acres between the cabins, the property designed to give visitors what the place was named for—solitude.

Havoc and I climbed up the front porch steps, and I turned the key in the lock. No electronic cards here. It fit with the cabins, the mountains, the seclusion. Larry waved to me from his Jeep as the door swung open, and then he pulled away, leaving us to explore our temporary home.

“This is not a cabin,” I told my girl as I stepped into a small foyer complete with hardwood floors and one of those bench things where shoes were kept in baskets. To the left was a mudroom that was no doubt the hub of ski season, and on the right, a half bathroom.

The walls were painted in the same soft hues as the foyer of the main building, the floors dark and welcoming, the rugs clean and modern. The kitchen appeared on the right as I walked farther inside, a welcoming combination of light cabinets, dark granite, stainless-steel appliances.

“At least we can cook,” I told Havoc as I glanced over at the dining area that sat eight.

Then I looked past the kitchen to the living room and my jaw dropped.

The living room was vaulted to the second story in a classic A-frame and ran the width of the cabin. Floor-to-ceiling windows brought in the afternoon light as it filtered through the trees and reflected on the lake. The mountains rose above, the snow marking the tree line at the peaks.

If I’d ever imagined somewhere I could make a home, this might have been it.

I’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

“Knock, knock!” a sweet, feminine voice called out from the front door. “May I come in?”

“Sure,” I called, walking to the center of the cabin where the hallway led straight to the door.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, shutting the door and coming into view.

My heart just about stopped. Ella.

Scratch that—she was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen.

Her face was thinner than the pictures I had, the circles under her eyes a little darker, but she was exquisite. Her hair was piled on her head in some kind of knot, and she wore a blue Henley—the exact bright blue of her eyes—under a darker blue vest. Her jeans molded to her body perfectly, but it was easy to see that she’d lost weight since…everything. She wasn’t taking care of herself.

Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and I realized she was still talking to me.

“Hi, I’m Ella MacKenzie, Solitude’s owner. I heard Hailey put you in this cabin, and we’ve had an issue with the stove that she’d forgotten about, so I wanted to offer you another cabin if you don’t want the hassle of a repair team in here tomorrow.”

An awkward moment passed before I realized that I needed to respond.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll be out tomorrow most of the day, anyway. They won’t be in my way. Or I can look at it myself.”

“I wouldn’t dream of you doing that.” She waved me off, looking around the cabin in a quick inspection. “Is everything else okay with your cabin?”

“Very. It’s beautiful.”

She nodded as she glanced toward the lake, not realizing my eyes were on her. “This one is my favorite.”

Havoc shifted at my side, drawing Ella’s attention.

“And what do you think about the cabin?” she asked.

Havoc tilted her head and studied Ella. First impressions were everything with her, and if she didn’t like Ella right off the bat, there was little hope of recovering.

“May I?” Ella asked, looking up at me.

I nodded stupidly, like I was a junior high boy locked in a room with a girl he crushed on. How the hell was I going to lie to her? Hide who I was? How had I gotten this far without a plan?

She rubbed Havoc behind her ears and immediately won her over.

“You don’t mind her being here? There was a miscommunication when I made the reservation.” My voice was gruff, my throat tight with everything I wanted—needed—to say to her.

She’d kept me alive.

She’d given me gravity when everything went sideways.

She’d opened the window to show me another life was possible.

I’d destroyed her world and abandoned her, and she had zero clue.

I was just a stranger to her.

“Not at all. I hear she’s a service dog?” One last rub, and Ella stood, coming up to just about my collarbone. I’d always been big, but something about how fragile she seemed made me feel huge, like I could put my body in front of the storm headed her way and protect her…even if the storm was of my own making.

“She’s a retired military working dog.”

“Oh.” A dark look crossed her face before she blinked that fake smile back into place. “Well, as soon as my son figures out you have a dog, you might have a visitor. He’s been after me to get one, but now…well, it’s just not in the cards, or in my schedule, to train a puppy.”

Colt. A jolt of anticipation raced through me at the thought of finally getting to meet him.

“They can be quite the handful,” I said, running my hand over Havoc’s neck.

“Were you…are you her handler?” Ella asked, studying my face.

God, I could look into those eyes forever. How was Maisie? What treatment was she in now? Was the tumor shrinking? Was it almost operable?

“I was and am. We served together, and now we’re out together—on terminal leave, actually. It’s not official for another eight weeks. We’re both working on the whole domestication thing, and I promise neither of us will pee on the carpet.”

The smile that flashed across her face was brief but real.

I wanted it back. Wanted to see it every day. Every minute.

“I’ll keep that in mind. So she’s trained in explosives, I’m guessing? Were you EOD?”

Here it was, the moment that would define my entire purpose here. Her smile would fade, and I’d no doubt get a well-deserved hand across my face.

“She’s trained in explosives and scenting people. She’s only aggressive on command and really loves anyone who will throw her favorite toy.”

“Explosives and people? That’s rare, right?” Her forehead puckered, like she was trying to remember something.

“For most dogs, yeah. But Havoc was a special operations dog, the best of the best.”

Ella’s features flattened, and she stepped back, bumping into the raw wood support pillar that separated the dining area. “Special ops.”

“Yes.” I nodded slowly, letting her put the pieces together.

“And you just retired? You’re really young to get out, knowing what adrenaline junkies you all are. You just…quit?” She folded her arms under her breasts, her fingers rubbing her bicep in a nervous tell.

“My best friend died.” My voice was barely a whisper, but she heard the truth of it.

Her eyes flew impossibly wide, the blue even more startling against the sudden sheen of tears I saw gather there before she blinked them away. She glanced at the floor, and within a millisecond her spine straightened and she had walls up twelve feet high.

She wasn’t just guarded. She was shut down.

“And that’s why you’re here.”

I nodded again, like I’d turned into a bobblehead since she walked in.

“Say it. I need you to say the words.”

My call sign is Chaos. I miss you and your letters so damn much. I crave your words more than oxygen. I’m so sorry about Ryan. I don’t deserve to be here. He does.

The options played through my head. Instead, I steered to the safest truth I could give her without ripping her to shreds or blowing the most important mission of my life.

“Ryan sent me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Mac…Ryan. He sent me to watch over you.” The way it came out, I could almost believe that I was here as the guardian angel, the one who would sweep in and save her from the shit I had no control over. I couldn’t cure her little girl’s cancer. I couldn’t bring her brother back. In that regard, I was actually the demon.

She shook her head and turned away, making a beeline for the front door.

“Ella.”

“Nope.” She waved me away—the second time since I’d met her—and reached for the door handle.

“Ella!”

Her hand paused on the handle, the other bracing against the door’s trim.

“I know it’s too much. I know I’m the last thing you expected.” In every single way. “If you don’t believe me, I have the letter he left me.” I reached into my back pocket, pulling out the envelope I’d folded and unfolded so many times that the creases were marked.

She turned slowly, leaning back against the door. Her eyes were wary, her posture tense. She wasn’t a deer in the headlights. She was a wounded, cornered mountain lion, all sleek lines and knowing eyes, ready to fight me to the death if I got too close.

“Here.” I walked closer and offered her the letter.

She didn’t even look at it.

“I don’t want that. I don’t want any part of it, or you. I don’t need a walking, talking reminder that he’s gone. I’m not weak, and I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I’m so sorry he’s not here.” My throat tightened, nearly closing on the emotions I kept on tight lockdown.

“Me, too.” She opened the door and left, and I raced after her like the idiot I was.

“I’m not going anywhere. You need anything, and it’s yours. You need help? You’ve got it.”

She let loose a mocking laugh as she descended the steps.

“I don’t want or need you here, Mr.…” She opened the door to her SUV and pulled out a paper. “Mr. Gentry.”

“Beckett,” I answered, desperate to hear her say it. My real name.

“Okay, Mr. Gentry. Enjoy your vacation and then head home, because like I said, I’m not in need of a babysitter or anyone’s charity. I’ve been taking care of myself since Ryan ran off and joined the army after our parents died.”

I wanted to grab her, to hold her against my chest and block anything that wanted to harm her. My hands ached to sweep down the line of her back, to take away any of her suffering that she’d let me. I’d known this would be hard, but seeing her wasn’t anything I could have prepared myself for.

“It doesn’t matter if you want me, because I’m not here on your wishes. I’m here on Mac’s. This is all he asked of me, so unless you’re going to kick me off your property, I’m going to keep the promise I made.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Okay. Anything I need?”

“Anything.”

“When Ryan died—”

No. Anything but this.

“—he was on an op, right?”

Could she see the blood drain from my face? Because I sure as hell felt it. I heard the rotors. Saw the blood. Reached for his hand as it limply fell off the stretcher.

“Yes. It’s classified.”

Her hand gripped the open doorframe.

“So I’ve heard. I need…” She sighed, looking everywhere but at me for a second before straightening her shoulders and meeting my eyes. “I need to know what happened to Chaos. Was he there? When Ryan died? You were in the same unit, right?” Her throat moved as she swallowed, and her eyes took on a desperate plea.

Damn it. She deserved to know everything. That I wasn’t the man I wanted to be, that she needed. That I was the piece of shit who made it back with a beating heart while her brother came home draped in a flag. I needed her to know that I’d chosen to stop answering her letters because I knew that the only thing I could bring her in this life would be more pain.

I needed her to know that it was only Ryan’s letter that got me here, and the knowledge that it was the least I could do for my best friend. That I never meant to hurt her, never had the intention of smashing into her life like the wrecking ball I was—not when she lived under such breakable glass.

“Well? Was he?”

But what I needed didn’t matter.

I’ve never been able to give second chances when it comes to hurting the people I love. Letter number six.

If I told her those things, she’d shut me out, and I would fail Mac for a second time. I could tell myself that it was her choice, but really, it would be mine. I was the guy people looked for an excuse to get rid of, and truth was a gift-wrapped reason to kick me to the curb. There were two distinct paths ahead of me: the first, where I told her who I was and what had happened, and she promptly walked out of my life, and the second…where I did everything I could to help her, no matter what the cost.

Path number two it is.

“He was there,” I answered honestly.

Her lower lip trembled, and she bit onto it, like any sign of weakness had to be quashed. “And? What happened?”

“That’s classified.” I was a bastard, but an honest one.

“Classified. You’re all the same, you know that? Loyal as anything to one another and nothing left for anyone else. Just tell me if he’s dead. I deserve to know.”

“Knowing what happened to Mac…to Chaos…none of that would do you any good. It would hurt a hell of a lot more than it already does. Trust me.”

She scoffed, shaking her head as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. When she looked back up, the fake smile was in place, and those blue eyes had gone glacial.

“Welcome to Telluride, Mr. Gentry. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

She climbed into the SUV and slammed the door, throwing the vehicle into reverse to get out of the drive.

I watched until she disappeared into the thick forest of trees.

Havoc brushed against my leg. I looked down at her, and she stared back up at me, no doubt knowing that I was an imbecile for what I’d just let happen.

“Yeah, that didn’t go so well.” I looked up at the cloudless Colorado sky. “We did a number on her, Mac. So if you’ve got any pointers on how to win over your sister, I’m all ears.”

I opened the tailgate of my truck and started to unload my stuff.

It might be temporary, but I was here for as long as Ella would let me stay. Because somewhere between letter number one and letter number twenty-four, I’d fallen in love with her. Fallen for her words, her strength, her insight and kindness, her grace under impossible circumstances, her love for her children, and her determination to stand on her own. I could list a thousand reasons that woman owned whatever heart I had.

But none of them mattered because, even though she was the woman I loved, to her, I was just a stranger. An unwelcome one at that.

Which was more than I deserved.