Lyle loaded Charlotte and Pudge into the truck and tossed a military duffle bag in the back seat, then headed toward the air strip. The nice thing about flying in his Grandfather’s private jet was that Charlotte could take her cat with her.
He knew he needed to make some decisions for his future. With Charlotte. With Heather. With his other life in Montana. He’d left Bear Valley once, wanting something of his own, wanting to get out from under the shadow of being a preacher’s kid.
Now, he’d give anything to be that preacher’s kid again, to have his dad here to talk to, to advise him. Why had he always chafed against his father’s advice? The sadness that swamped him nearly took him to his knees.
School would start soon for Charlotte. He needed to decide where the best place for her would be. Was a dude ranch surrounded by a bunch of cowboys the right environment for her?
At one time, he’d thought that putting his own needs and wants first would make him happy. Now he knew how blessed he was to have others to consider first. Charlotte. Heather. His brothers.
The day after the harrowing experience of nearly losing Charlotte—thank God for Heather’s search and rescue dogs—Heather had gotten a call from a rescue center in California and had loaded up both Scout and Holly and left to assist in the search for a missing hiker in the Angeles National Forest.
There had been no time for them to talk or to plan.
He admired the heck out of her for the work she did. Her life had been threatened with the whole Darren and Bret fiasco, yet she hadn’t hesitated to head right out to try to save someone else. He hadn’t heard from her since she’d left.
Not knowing if she’d even be in cell range, he sent a quick text.
**Charlotte and I are heading to Montana. I’ll be in touch.**
Heather saw the message just after dawn, as she stood at the staging point high in the hills above the Angeles National Forest. Her legs ached from yesterday’s 14-hour search shift, and her clothes still bore the scent of pine, sweat, and three uncertain promises, to the family of a missing girl, to the dogs by her side, and to the man who now filled her thoughts more often than she'd like to admit.
She stared at the text for a long minute, the cool morning air making her breath mist as she read it again.
Charlotte and I are heading to Montana. I’ll be in touch.
She imagined them together, Charlotte bundled up in her denim jacket and little cowgirl boots, Pudge curled on her lap and wide prairie skies stretching over them as Quentin’s jet sliced through clouds. The mental image carved a strange ache in her chest. She understood his need to go back. She did. But there was something about the distance, this open space between them, that left her unmoored.
“Okay, team,” Boyd Vaughn called over his shoulder. “Sun’s about to crest. Move out.”
Heather shoved her phone into her vest, gave a low whistle to Scout and a soft “Holly, search,” and let the mission push Lyle to the back of her mind, even if it never quite exited completely.
The day was long and grueling. The missing hiker hadn’t been seen in nearly 48 hours since she’d set out on what was supposed to be an afternoon loop. Cold nights, no gear. Time was not their friend. But Holly's alert bark just before sunset brought a miracle. The hiker had taken shelter beneath a rocky outcrop, weak but alive. Heather knelt beside her, giving her water and radioing her position to the chopper team.
And when the girl’s eyes fluttered open and locked on Heather’s face, a single tear slid down the teen’s cheek.
“You found me.”
Holly pushed her head beneath the girl’s hand. The teen smiled weakly.
“No,” Heather said softly, giving the golden retriever a gentle pat. “She did.”
Later, back at base, while Scout slept belly-up under the table and Holly snored gently at her feet, Heather checked her phone again.
No new messages.
Lyle was probably busy. She told herself that this was what she wanted. Space to let both of them think. But the edge of silence cut deeper than she’d expected. This wasn’t just about missing him. It was about the realization that she was deeply and irrevocably in love with him. Not the way she’d once thought she was supposed to love someone, but with a fire burning in her belly, juxtaposed with a quieter kind of certainty. It was about finding one of the only men she’d ever felt safe with, only to realize she might not be part of his future.
She rubbed her thumb absently across the phone screen and typed a reply she hadn’t had time for earlier.
**Take good care of her. Let me know when you get settled.**
Staring at the words, she shook her head and deleted the text.
She wasn’t ready to ask for more if he didn’t know what he wanted.
Instead, she pulled up the photo Charlotte had drawn the night of her rescue. Her, Heather, Lyle, all holding hands with the dogs leaping around them. Pudge hovered like an angel-cat overhead. Across the top, scrawled in blocky, determined crayon, were the words: “My BIG family.”
Heather smiled and let herself believe in that bright, unapologetic hope.
