Ranger would say that God brought him back—he could practically hear his overzealous brother’s voice now. “You don’t know what plans God has for you—but they’re good ones.”

Yeah, they hadn’t felt like good ones while he’d been sitting in the Copper Mountain jail.

But maybe God had brought him home.

What if he stayed? Worked this out with his father. Created for himself the life he wanted, finally?

The breeze lifted and curled in through his thermals, raising gooseflesh. Maybe he was coolheaded enough to venture inside.

Echo was curled into her sleeping bag. He fed another log into the stove and climbed up onto the bunk over her, zipping himself into the bag.

“Good night, Dodger,” she said quietly into the darkness.

“Good night, E,” he said, his voice low.

It was the first time in years that he slept the night through. Without the nightmares and the replays and the sense that if he just did things differently, then maybe he could face the guy in the mirror.

And, even better, he woke to the smell of—coffee? He rolled over, and Echo was crouched by the fire, a pot of grounds bubbling. She looked up, the early morning sun in her hair, turning it golden, her eyes bright. “You snore.”

“You know this,” he said, sitting up. He needed a toothbrush, a razor, and a shower, not necessarily in that order.

He hopped down.

“I forgot. You sound like a locomotive is driving through the cabin.”

“Yeah, well, you still talk in your sleep. Little muffles of groans and weird shouts.” He dug through his pack for his toothbrush.

“No I don’t.”

“You did at the vet’s office.” He put toothpaste on the brush. “But that’s okay. You often don’t make sense.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he laughed as he threw on boots and his jacket and stepped onto the porch. The day had broken clean and bright, high cirrus clouds near the apex of the mountains, a day without storm or high winds—it felt like hope.

He cleaned his teeth with the snow, then used it to rub his face, waking himself up. His breath formed in the crisp air as he stretched.

Oh, he felt good. The kind of good he hadn’t felt in years.

The kind of good that had led him to propose to Echo, all those years ago.

Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d proposed out of panic after Charlie had told him that Echo had been accepted to the University of Alaska.

If he were honest, he’d proposed because he’d been afraid.

And maybe a little selfish. Turning him down was probably exactly the right thing to do.

His dad was right—the last ten years had changed him. Scraped away a little of the cockiness, he hoped.

Made him ready to come home and be the guy Echo deserved.