Page 24 of Daddy of the Mountain

I closed the book and set it down harder than I meant to, the thud breaking the cabin’s stillness. My tea had gone lukewarm, forgotten beside me. I stared at the fire instead, watching the flames dance. Every crackle, every shift of the logs seemed louder now, like the cabin itself was mocking me.

"Useless," I muttered under my breath. The word tasted bitter.

I stared at the door. My fingers drummed against the armrest of the chair, restless and impatient. The rules were clear. Stay inside. Rest. Don’t put weight on my ankle. I’d nodded, agreed—hell, I’d even promised. But now, with Silas out there, doing everything while I sat here like a useless doll? It gnawed at me.

"Just the porch," I said under my breath, voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. "That’s not breaking the rules." My gaze flicked to the small stack of kindling he’d piled behind the cabin yesterday. A few pieces. Nothing heavy. Just enough to show him I wasn’t some helpless burden.

Testing my ankle, I shifted forward in the chair. Almost no pain at all.

I pressed my palms into the chair’s arms and pushed myself upright. The first step sent a sharp twinge through my ankle, but I bit down on my lip and took another. Then another. "See," I muttered, testing the words against the pain, "not so bad."

The cold hit me the second I cracked the door open. Pine and frost swept in, biting at my face and bare hands. I hesitated, fingers tightening on the doorframe. The porch steps stretched out before me, dusted with snow that glistened faintly in the morning light. Slippery. Treacherous. But manageable.

"One step at a time," I murmured again, gritting my teeth. The first step creaked loudly under my weight, the sound magnified in the quiet. My boot slipped slightly, and I grabbed for the railing, heart lurching. For a second, I froze, breath caught in my chest. Then I moved again, slower this time, letting the railing take most of my weight as I hobbled down.

The woodpile loomed just around the corner of the cabin, half-hidden beneath an overhang. I limped toward it, each step dragging a little more than the last. My breath puffed out in short bursts, visible in the icy air. When I reached the pile, I leaned heavily against the wall, catching my breath.

"Just one piece," I whispered. "Maybe two." My fingers brushed over the icy surface of the logs, searching for ones that weren’t frozen solid. The cold stung my fingertips, but I ignored it, wrapping them around a smaller stick of wood. I tugged it free, ice cracking as it loosened.

As I bent to grab another, my foot slid. Panic shot through me. My hands scrabbled for the railing, but the slick wood offered no grip. Weight landed squarely on my bad ankle, and a sharp, searing pain shot up my leg. I gasped, the sound swallowed by the empty forest around me.

"Goddammit," I hissed, clutching the railing hard enough that my knuckles turned white. Tears pricked hot at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. Stupid. So stupid.

I hauled myself upright, biting back every curse and cry threatening to spill out. My ankle throbbed with every movement, but I forced myself back toward the cabin. Each stepwas agony, and by the time I reached the porch, my breaths came in uneven gasps.

Inside, the warmth hit me like a slap. I shut the door fast, leaning against it as my legs trembled beneath me. The wood fell from my hand onto the floor with a dull clatter. My hands shook as I pressed them to my thighs, trying to steady myself.

"Stupid," I whispered, the word thick with frustration. Tears blurred my vision despite my best effort. I sank down onto the nearest chair, cradling my ankle in both hands. Silas had been right. Of course, he had. And I’d gone and proved it in the dumbest way possible.

*

“You did what?”

Why had I decided to tell him? It was like I had a deathwish.

“I wanted to prove that I was getting better. So I went outside to get some kindling. And I fell.”

My ankle throbbed under the makeshift wrap I’d tied around it after my brilliant little adventure earlier.

"Alana." His voice was low, sharp.

I looked up, tried to seem calm, but his eyes went straight to my foot.

"Do you think I make those rules for fun?" His voice was quiet, too quiet, but it carried enough weight to press me back against the headboard. "Why, Alana? Why would you do something so . . . so reckless?"

"I just wanted to help," I managed, my voice cracking halfway through. "It wasn’t—it wasn’t a big deal. I stayed close to the cabin. I thought—"

“You know what, I’m grateful that you told me.”

“You are?”

“Of course. You might have broken the rules, but you didn’t try to keep it from me. That’s very good.”

“I-I couldn’t keep it from you.”

"But even though you’ve told me, I’m afraid there will need to be some discipline. Rules are there for a reason," he said finally, voice rougher now. "And when you break them, there are consequences."

"Consequences?" My stomach twisted, flipping over itself.

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