Page 62 of Entangled with a Mountain Man

She nods. "You can have it."

I hold the hand-drawn family portrait in my hands. "Thank you, peanut."

She beams and runs off, leaving me alone.

I grab my jacket and keys, and as I head for the front door, I hear Kenzie's voice coming from the girls' room. She's reading them a bedtime story, her voice soft and soothing. I pause, listening to the rise and fall of her words and the giggles of the twins.

For a moment, I let myself imagine a different life. One where I could walk into that room, wrap my arms around Kenzie from behind, and kiss the top of her head. Where we could tuck the girls in together, then retreat to our room, talking about our day and planning for our future.

But that's not my life. It can't be. I have responsibilities and duties that go beyond what I want. The first Raven V mission looms ahead of me, a stark reminder of the world I belong to.

With a heavy heart, I push those thoughts aside and slip out the front door. The cool night air hits me like a slap to the face, clearing my head a little.

I climb into my truck and start the engine. I'm not sure where I'm going, but I know I need to go somewhere. As I pull out of the driveway, I catch a glimpse of Kenzie through the twins' bedroom window. She's smiling, her face animated as she acts out part of the story.

The image stays with me as I drive into town, a bittersweet reminder of what I can't have. What I shouldn't want.

But what if I do?

14

STEPPING BACK

EVERETT

I call out to Kenzie, then the girls. No answer. The house is quiet. Too quiet.

I move through the rooms, listening for giggles or whispers, but there's nothing.

"Kenzie? Girls?" I try again, my voice echoing off the walls.

Still nothing. A flicker of worry sparks in my gut, but I push it down. They're fine. Probably just outside.

I head for the back porch, where Kenzie often sits with a book and tea. It's become a familiar sight these past few weeks. Her curled up in one of the Adirondack chairs, lost in a story. The image brings a warmth to my chest that I'm not ready to examine too closely.

As I slide open the glass doors, the scene before me stops me dead in my tracks. Kenzie and the girls are huddled around a puddle, hands, and knees in the mud, completely absorbed in whatever they've found.

"Look, Daddy!" Harper's voice rings out, her face lit up with pure joy. She holds up something small and green, a frog. "Isn't he cute?"

I smile. My little girl, usually shy and reserved, is beaming excitedly. She's changing, coming out of her shell more and more each day. And I know who to thank for that.

Kenzie looks up, a streak of mud across her cheek and an apologetic grin on her face. "Sorry about the mess," she says. "We got a little carried away."

I wave off her apology. "Don't worry about it. Looks like you're having fun."

Hazel pipes up, "Miss Kenzie's teaching us about frogs! Did you know they breathe through their skin?"

"Is that so?" I crouch beside them, carefully keeping my boots out of the mud. "What else have you learned?"

As the girls launch into an enthusiastic explanation of frog anatomy, I can't take my eyes off Kenzie. She's listening intently, nodding and asking questions, completely invested in their excitement.

She’s our glue.

Something shifts inside me, a piece of my carefully guarded heart giving way. Watching her play in the mud with my girls, letting them have fun and get messy. It's everything I've wanted for them. Everything my own mother would have done.

And with mud smeared on her face, her jeans, and her hands, I make a decision. When I return from this mission, I'm done fighting what I feel for Kenzie.

Life's too short, and she brings too much joy to our lives to keep pushing her away.

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