Because this sunrise, this moment I've been planning since I left those gifts on her porch, isn't just about showing her my favorite place.
It's about sharing my soul with the woman I'm falling in love with.
I finish packing with nervous energy I haven't felt since before my first deployment. Every detail has to be perfect today.
The food, the setup, the timing.
I want her to see Stone River through my eyes, to understand why I never want to leave this place.
More than that, I want to tell her something. Something so beautiful I need the sun to rise at the exact moment I mutter the words I never thought I'd say again.
"Ready?" I ask, helping her down from the counter as I swallow my nerves.
She nods and disappears into the bedroom to throw on jeans and boots while I load the gear into the truck. When she emerges, bundled in my spare jacket with the purple travel mugfilled with coffee in her hands, she's studying the route on the hand-drawn map I gave her weeks ago.
"Ready! Lead the way, Mountain Man," she says with that grin that makes me want to carry her back to bed and forget about sunrise entirely.
But I've been planning this moment for days. And Brooke Shields is about to see exactly why I never wanted to live anywhere but here.
The drive to Cascade Ridge takes around ten minutes on winding forest service roads that become progressively narrower as we climb.
Brooke sits curled in the passenger seat, my jacket dwarfing her frame, watching the landscape change from valley pines to alpine firs as we gain elevation.
The temperature drops dramatically up here, so I crank the dial on the heater and move my hand to rest on Brooke's thigh.
"How did you even find this place?" she asks as we turn onto what's barely more than a dirt track.
"Hiking with my dad when I was twelve," I say, navigating around a fallen branch. "Got separated from him in a fog bank and stumbled onto the ridge by accident. Been coming here ever since."
"Even when you were deployed?"
"Especially then. Whenever I came home, this place... it kept me grounded. Reminded me what I was fighting to come home to."
"You really love it here, don't you?"
"No place like it."
When we finally reach the end of the road, I park next to the trailhead that leads to my custom-built observation deck. The setup I've created over three summers of careful construction is invisible from here, hidden by a stand of old-growth pines.
"It's a short hike from here. Maybe ten minutes. Today we're taking the easy way," I tell Brooke, shouldering the pack loaded with gear. "Could've hiked from my cabin like I usually do. It's about three miles through the back trails, but for your first time, this'll be enough."
I don't mention that I've never brought anyone here before.
That this spot has been mine alone for over twenty years.
That so much of the healing I've done, from the brutalities of war, to Rebecca leaving my sorry ass… it's all been done right here.
"Oh. And before you go making fun of me again, I don't usually pack heated blankets, camping chairs, or backup hand warmers," I admit, checking the straps. "But for you today, I went all out."
"Heated blankets?" Brooke smiles, warming her hands with her breath. "No doubt about you, Strike. You sure know how to spoil a girl."
"Just getting started, sweetheart."
I give her ass a playful swat and find the trail that winds through the dense forest, the scent of pine needles and earth filling the air, before it opens onto the ridge.
I watch Brooke's face as my observation deck comes into view, a platform nestled amongst the towering pines, with the subtle darkness of dusk still on the horizon, stretching out in a breathtaking panorama.
Her gasp of amazement is like music to my ears, making every painstaking hour I spent building this place worth it.