Page 35 of Daddy of the Mountain

"Yes." The word came out thick, almost broken, but it was the truest thing I’d ever said. "I choose you."

His chest rose sharply, but he didn’t say anything right away. Didn’t try to fill the silence. Instead, he stepped closer, slow enough that I could feel every inch of the space shrinking between us until the air itself seemed to hum.

A tear spilled over my cheek, hot and messy, and before I could swipe it away, his thumb was there. Rough from years of work, gentle as if I might break. He caught it, letting his hand linger just long enough to make my heart stutter.

“I really do love you.”

"I love you too, Daddy," I whispered, so soft it was barely there, but he heard it. Oh, he heard it. I saw it in the way his jaw flexed, in the way his eyes darkened like the storm clouds that used to roll over this mountain in late spring.

"Alana," he said, my name a growl, full of things I wasn’t sure I’d survive but wanted anyway.

Silas’s arms came around me, strong and certain, pulling me into the kind of embrace that felt like it could withstand anything. I let out a shaky breath against his chest, my fingers curling into his flannel shirt like it was the only thing keeping me upright.

I melted. Absolutely, completely melted against him. Like every piece of me had finally found where it belonged. The world outside could do whatever the hell it wanted—turn faster, spiral into chaos—I didn’t care. Here, time slowed. Here, it was just us.

His hand slid up my back, palm wide and rough, anchoring me further. I pressed closer, my cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Mine.

"Feels right," I mumbled into the flannel, my voice barely loud enough to hear. But Silas heard it. Of course, he did.

"Yeah, it does," he said simply, his chin grazing the top of my head. No frills, no fuss. Just those three words, solid as the mountain under our feet. That was Silas. That was what I’d chosen.

After a long moment, he shifted, his hands lingering at my shoulders before he pulled back just enough to look down at me. His eyes searched mine, dark and full of quiet determination. "Ready?"

"Yeah," I whispered, though my voice wobbled this time. Not because I doubted. Because I didn’t.

His lips twitched, maybe the ghost of a smile, before his hand dropped to mine. His grip was firm but careful, like he knew exactly how much strength to use. Like he always did.

We turned toward the door together. I didn’t even glance at the suitcase. What would’ve been the point? It could sit there and collect dust for all I cared. I laced my fingers tighter with his as we stepped outside.

We walked.

The path climbed higher, steeper, but I didn’t falter. Each step felt like moving closer to something real. Something permanent. My hand stayed in his, our shared grip unbroken. And when I glanced sidelong at him, his profile outlined against the towering pines, I couldn’t help but think:This is it. This is where I’m supposed to be.

When we reached the ridge overlooking the cabin, I stopped, my breath catching. There it was, nestled against the mountainside like it had grown from the earth itself. Our beginning. Our home. The place that saved my life.

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