But today, carrying a homemade chocolate chip cookie that the grandfather of seven who owned the diner had given him, while Rebel drooled happily over a dog biscuit, Colter felt lighter than he had in a long time. His steps picked up as he headed toward the store where he’d left Kensie.
Once upon a time, she would have been everything he wanted. Back then, he’d been the kind of guy who’d had a map of his life drawn in his mind. He might have taken one look at her and sensed the possibility for marriage and kids. For a home waiting for him in between military tours.
That was the life he’d always imagined for himself. The kind of life his brothers in the Marines had: video calls with spouses, letters written in crayon arriving at bases around the world, pictures to carry inside their helmets. Something to fight for. Someone to go home to.
He’d never have any of that now. Without the military, the vision was a mess. He couldn’t imagine a sedate life for himself, with a woman who didn’t mind picking up the slack when his injury got to be too much, and kids who didn’t mind that their dad couldn’t run after them like other dads. If he was being honest, he didn’t want that life at all now.
He’d come to Alaska not just to hide, but also to heal. Somehow, over the past year, he’d lost sight of the healing part. But Kensie had forced him out of his comfort zone, out of the solitude of his cabin, and it was reminding him of why he loved it here. Why he’d chosen it in the first place.
Sure, there were guys like Danny Weston, people who’d come here to take advantage of Alaska’s wide-open spaces and hide from whatever terrible thing they’d done. But there were also people like the grandfather who’d owned this diner for the past thirty years. Hardworking people who’d come here for the chance to live a simpler life, to connect with nature and themselves. That’s what he wanted.
Kissing Kensie last night had reignited in him all the old dreams and this morning he’d woken with what felt like a hangover. The inevitable disappointment he felt whenever he dreamed of the past. Waking up and remembering it was all gone had spiraled him into depression more than once. He wasn’t going there again.
Kensie was never going to be anything more to him than a memory. But maybe her entering his life was exactly the kick in the butt he needed to make him rejoin the world.
No, life was never going to be the way he’d imagined when he was eighteen and just embarking on his first military tour. But how many people’s lives turned out the way they planned when they were little more than kids?
At his side, Rebel trotted along happily, with nothing left of her biscuit but a lone crumb on the top of her nose. A smile trembled on his lips. He could still be happy here. Just because his trajectory had changed didn’t mean it was pointless. He could find meaning in his life, allow himself to enjoy the solitude of his cabin, the endless open views across the valley.
He drew in a deep, cold breath of Alaskan air. It was time to face his future.
Chapter Seven
Kensie had barely spoken to him since he’d picked her up at the snowplow store.
Colter shot another glance at her across the truck cab. He hadn’t known her long, but she wasn’t usually this quiet. And while it could have been his own bad mood from when he’d met up with her a few hours ago causing her silence, he didn’t think so.
It was probably the kiss they’d shared.
For the hundredth time since it had happened, he cursed himself. But this time it was half-hearted. How could he fully regret something that had reset his perspective on his life? Yeah, maybe kissing her had been a lapse in judgment, but hopefully it was the push he needed to get his life in order. To figure out how he was going to truly make this place his home, instead of just his hideout.
He gripped the wheel a little tighter, trying to find the right words. He’d never had to apologize for kissing someone before.
Eyes still on the icy road in front of him, Colter started, “The past year, I’ve been hiding out in my cabin. Not really on purpose. But I came here for the solitude and it was easy to turn that into a solitary life.”
He glanced at her to see if she’d figured out where he was going with this meandering opening salvo, but she was just staring out the windshield, forehead furrowed. So he kept going. “Helping you wasn’t easy for me. I know you don’t get it, but trust me when I say that any kind of mission was the last thing I thought I needed.”
She was silent, so he pushed forward, faster now, starting to feel foolish for not just blurting a simple apology and leaving it at that. “That’s why I bailed on you when I found out you weren’t telling me everything. And when I kissed you...”
Kensie stayed silent, lips pursed like she was waiting for a real apology. Or maybe she wasn’t even listening to him. It was hard to tell.
“I’m sorry. I should have—”
“It was a mistake. I get it. I agree. We got carried away in the moment. It’s not like it’s going to happen again.” Kensie cut him off suddenly, swiveling in her seat as far as the seatbelt would let her. She tucked one knee up underneath her, facing him even as Rebel tried to stick her nose in between to be petted.
It wasn’t going to happen again? Even though that
