Page 2 of Rescued By the Ranger

Quinton’s voice comes through the phone. “Shane is currently seeking a tissue. You two hunker down. Enjoy the fully stocked kitchen and have a lovely time. We can’t wait to see you back in Denver for New Year’s Eve!”

“Thanks, Quinton, have a very merry Christmas. Love you guys.”

“Love you!” Quinton and the girls call out.

My heart warms. Thisisexactly what I needed. The support has saved me when I thought I was going to crumble into a thousand tiny pieces. Getting away from it all to reset. Taking time to get back to Jazzy and me.

“Love you, too!” we call back and then I disconnect.

I sit up straight and put the car into drive. “You ready for this?” I ask Jazzy and she nods.

“I want to color!”

“You just want that gift from Uncle Shane.”

A wide smile floats across her face. “Maybe…”

Okay, off to explore this behemoth of a house.

I don’t even know where to start…

Outside while it’s snowing seems appropriate and a magical start. We might not get another chance to make some snow angels.

I pull into the driveway in front of the garage. I’ll figure out how to get the car in there soon, but first…

“You wanna go make snow angels?” I ask and her eyes go nickel sized.

“Let’s do it, Mom!”

Yes, Jaz, let’s do this.

2

RHODES

The mountain roadsare starting to get dangerous. No one should be out here, much less me, but I don’t give two fucks about anything right now, so if I slid off into the ditch it would just be the cherry on top of the shit sundae this decade has been.

And now I’m on the way to my family’s cabin to enjoy my Christmas alone in the Rocky Mountains. I’m about an hour from Denver and hour from near Storm Canyon where I live in a small town as part of the firefighting department.

I round the corner and quickly pull off the mountain road.

I slow my old beater truck…

No one is supposed to be here.

No one but me, that is.

Vehicle tracks run lines in the newly fallen snow, leading down the mile road to the house. Checking my bag, I retrieve my tranq gun only for animals. I used to carry the real thing, but war makes a man consider what he’d like to have in his hand— weapon or woman?

I don’t have either right now, making me a little grumpy. But I chuckle thinking about how this tranq gun would make a man feel pretty shitty for a while. I imagine a burly dude swaggeringaround jacked on a Ketamine-Xylazine mix, tumbling into the snow and falling backward like a pudgy snow angel. It would be one nasty hangover, but it wouldn’t kill anyone over two hundred pounds. I aim to slow,notto kill.

Never again.

Being a Ranger in the Army taught me lots of self-survival and that’s why I love being up here in the mountains. I get to still use those skills, but I don’t have to report to anyone when I do. The city has too many noises that make me jump.

My heart clicks faster, the fight or flight response kicking in. I think back to being ambushed in Kuwait and then again in Kabul and the world spins around me. I put my forehead to the steering wheel and take a few breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

Smell the flowers. Blow out the candles. Smell the flowers. Blow out the candles.

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