Page 112 of One Last Stand

Shep just wanted to get off this mountain and back home. No more epic missions. He tossed in another log, then closed the stove.

“For a long time, I blamed Jacey. But the fact was, I had a choice. I didn’t have to follow her.”

“But it didn’t feel like that at the time.”

He stirred the fire to life. “No. She was the impulsive one. And I sort of thought that I was here to protect her.”

“You were two years younger than her.”

“It felt like I was older.”

“Because you didn’t do stupid things like skiing out of the boundary.”

He nodded. “What can I say?—I’m a rule follower. It keeps people alive.”

London’s blonde hair had tumbled down around her face, and while she smiled up at him, he realized how very warm it was in the room. He’d fallen asleep on the bed without even thinking. Still, there was no other place to sit, so he sank down on the end of the bed.

“Seriously. Shep. Just—we shared a bathtub.”

“That was different. We were trapped. And wearing snowsuits.”

“I know.” She smiled. “How about you just sit by me?”

“I can do that.” He moved beside her. Put his arm around her. She leaned into him. And somehow, with the movement, the terrible knot that wound him up simply released.

Breathe. They’d made it halfway down the mountain, were both still alive and . . .

Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the wall.

“Is that how you got into rescue?”

He opened one eye. She rested her hand on his chest, turned a little toward him. He pulled the comforter around her.

“What do you mean?”

“Getting airlifted off the mountain?”

“Oh. Maybe. When I went into the Army, I knew I didn’t want to be just infantry, but I wanted to be in the Tenth Mountain Division, so it felt right to be a medic. And then I ended up attached to a Ranger team, so—” He shook his head. “Got in a little over my head there too.”

“That’s why you got out?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to live a life off grid, living one mission to the next, not sure if I’d make it home. I’m not afraid to die, but I wanted more. Something permanent, that grounded me. Someplace I could call home.”

“A family,” she said quietly.

“Yes. Someday, maybe. If God wills.”

“That’s living outside the boundary, isn’t it?”

He frowned, said nothing.

She raised her head. “Faith. Believing in things you can’t see.”

Hmm. “Yes, faith is trusting what you don’t see. But also trusting in someone who is faithful. You might not see what’s ahead, but God does. I’d say that’s living very much inside the boundary. The other way is just . . . chaos.”

She nodded, then put her head down. “Remember that conversation we had in our snow cave?”

“A.k.a. the bathtub of doom? We had a lot of conversations, if I remember right.”