Page 7 of Saved By the Mountain Man

You bet I would.

I move over to the dresser and catch my reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall above. I see a new stack of clothes on the edge of the bed. Judging by the colorful mix of pinks, blues and purples, they look like they might be for me, but I’m not sure how they got there.

I’m wearing one of Jack’s old t-shirts and I love the way it hangs off my shoulders. My cheeks are relaxed, my lips curved in a smile.

The clothes on the bed would be a more suitable outfit for a day in the wilderness and I start looking through them. There is a mix of brand new shirts, with the tags still attached, to worn out looking clothes that are clearly well-loved second-hand purchases.

Did Jack get these for me? Why would he have a bunch of women’s clothes laying around his cabin?

My gaze drifts along the top of the old oak dresser. There’s a framed photo in the corner, the glass dusty like it hasn’t been picked up in years. It’s a photo of a younger version of Jack, dressed in his Navy SEAL uniform.

I swallow and hold my breath.

He’s gorgeous.

His dark brown eyes are rich with intensity, staring out with a youthful determination and pride. He looks happy, casually leaning against a post with a cigarette in his hand. It’s a different expression to the grumpy scowl I met yesterday.

My body floods with warmth. Jack with a scowl is amazing, but Jack with a smile on his face? Wow.

Next to the photograph is a small wooden box, almost an exact replica of the one I snatched from my shelf back home. This one has a delicate brass latch on the front, and it catches my eye as it glints in the sunlight that’s starting to fill the room. I open the latch and suddenly feel like I’ve opened the door to another world.

“Wow,” I gasp, my fingers carefully lifting a bundle of old letters out of the box.

They’re wrapped together with a piece of weathered string, the paper looking well-thumbed and worn on the edges. I can only imagine the stories encased within, but I set them aside and pick up a pocket watch, silver with ‘J.C.’ engraved on its surface.

I stare at the watch in awe. It’s beautiful and I can only start to imagine the tales behind all of the treasures Jack has. I’m staying with a man of mystery. I know nothing about him aside from him being my father’s best friend. Hidden behind the layers of rugged strength and his gruff exterior, are stories, a life lived to levels I’ll never understand.

My heart feels like it’s about to explode.

Jack was a warrior.

Just like my dad. He was a warrior alongside my dad. And that’s something I love. So damn much.

I feel my body tighten with emotion.

There’s so much I want to know. I want to hear the stories of my father, learn about the way he was. I want to know about Jack, and why he was best friends with him.

There’s so much to unpack. But somehow, I get the feeling Jack has built a wall that will be hard to break down. Jack is a man who’s clearly decided he wants to live out his days as a recluse. Isolated and alone.

I slide the pocket watch back in the box and close the lid gently. I go to move to the door, but my eyes catch on one last object, hidden in the corner.

A thick photo album, dark brown with a golden emblem embossed on the cover is hidden behind a stack of clothes. I clutch it without thinking, tucking it under my arm as I head out towards the kitchen.

“Good morning,” I chime happily.

Jack is at the stove, a spatula in his hand as he flips eggs. He’s still wearing the same jeans as yesterday, but he’s got a different checkered shirt on, the sleeves rolled up his thick forearms. His hair is pulled back in a messy bunch, his beard thicker than it was last night.

“Morning,” he grunts, glancing over his shoulder. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Um,” I stutter.

I settle in the chair at the counter, dodging his smoldering eyes. I place the photo album to one side and think about the last time I had a cooked breakfast.

“I don’t actually know.”

He turns around and hits me with a frown. “What? Everyone has a favorite type of eggs.”

“How do you have yours? I’ll just have the same.”

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