Updated Apr 11, 2026 • ~8 min read
Chapter 29: One Year
Jackson
*One year after the rescue – October*
The ring has been burning a hole in my pocket for two months.
I made it myself over the summer—a band carved from mountain ash wood, inlaid with a smooth river stone that I found near the spot where I first saw Sloane. It’s not a diamond. It’s not traditional. But it’s us, made from the wilderness we both love, and I think it’s perfect.
I hope she thinks it’s perfect.
I’ve been planning this for weeks, waiting for the right moment, and today—exactly one year since I found her half-frozen under a tree—feels like the time.
“Where are we going?” Sloane asks as I lead her through the forest. She’s bundled up against the October chill, and she navigates the terrain with the confidence of someone who’s spent a year learning these woods.
“You’ll see.”
“You’re being mysterious.”
“I’m being romantic. There’s a difference.”
She laughs, and the sound still makes my chest warm. “Jackson Torres being romantic. Will wonders never cease.”
We hike for about thirty minutes, and when we reach the clearing, she stops.
I can see the moment she recognizes it—this is the spot where I found her. Where she was curled up under a tree, hypothermic and barely conscious, about to die.
Where everything changed.
“This is where my life changed,” I say quietly.
She turns to look at me, her gray-blue eyes soft. “Mine too.”
“I think about that night a lot,” I continue, taking her hands. “About how close I came to not finding you. If Bear had been tired, if I’d turned back five minutes earlier, if I’d gone a different direction… I wouldn’t have you. Wouldn’t have this. Wouldn’t have learned what it feels like to have someone choose me every single day.”
“Jackson—”
“Let me finish.” I take a breath. “This year with you has been the best year of my life. You’ve made this cabin feel like a home instead of just a shelter. You’ve shown me that it’s okay to want more than just survival. You’ve taught me that being loved doesn’t mean being weak, and that letting someone in doesn’t mean I’ll lose them.”
I drop to one knee, and her hands fly to her mouth.
“I’ve been planning this for weeks,” I admit. “Trying to figure out the perfect words, the perfect moment. But the truth is simple: I love you, Sloane Whitmore. I love you for choosing this life, for choosing me, for being patient while I learned how to trust again. And I want to spend the rest of my life proving that your choice was worth it.”
I pull out the ring, and even in the fading light, the stone catches the sun.
“This isn’t a diamond,” I say. “It’s mountain ash and river stone from this land. From our home. Because everything we have is built from this place, from the wilderness that brought us together. Marry me, Sloane. Build this life with me. Forever.”
She’s crying, nodding before I even finish. “Yes! Yes, of course yes!”
I stand and slide the ring onto her finger, and she holds it up to the light, examining it with wonder.
“It’s perfect,” she breathes. “It’s absolutely perfect.”
“You’re sure? Because I can get you a real ring, something from a jeweler—”
“Don’t you dare.” She grabs my jacket. “This is real. This is us. This is perfect.”
I kiss her, there in the clearing where I found her, where our story began, and it feels like coming full circle. From rescue to partnership to love to this—a promise to spend our lives together.
“I can’t believe I’m engaged to a park ranger,” I say when we break apart.
“I can’t believe I’m engaged to a mountain man.” She’s grinning through her tears. “My friends back in New York are going to lose their minds.”
“Are you going to tell them?”
“Are you kidding? Kenzie is going to demand to be maid of honor. My mom is going to cry. My dad is going to want to meet you before the wedding.” She pauses. “You’re okay with that, right? Meeting my family?”
“Terrified, but okay.” I pull her close. “As long as you’re there, I can handle it.”
“We’ll do it together.” She looks down at her ring again, and I can see the love and wonder in her expression. “When should we get married?”
“Whenever you want. Spring? Summer?”
“Spring,” she says immediately. “One year and six months from the day you found me. Right here, in this clearing. Small ceremony—just family and close friends. Mike can officiate. We’ll say our vows where you saved my life.”
“That sounds perfect.” I take her hand, running my thumb over the ring. “Though technically, you saved my life too.”
“How do you figure?”
“I was just existing before you showed up. Going through the motions. You taught me how to live again. How to hope. How to believe in good things.” I press my forehead to hers. “You saved me, Sloane. In every way that matters.”
“Then we saved each other,” she whispers. “And now we get to build a life together.”
We start the hike back to the cabin, hand in hand, engaged, and I think about how far we’ve both come in a year. From strangers forced together by a blizzard to partners building a life in the wilderness. From broken people protecting themselves to whole people choosing to be vulnerable with each other.
It hasn’t been easy. There were hard days—days when my PTSD was bad, when she missed civilization, when we fought about stupid things because we were learning how to navigate being together. But we worked through it. Communicated. Compromised. Chose each other even when it was hard.
And it’s been worth it.
Every hard day, every moment of fear, every time I wanted to push her away but chose to let her in instead—it’s all been worth it for this.
For her.
For us.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks as we walk.
“Just that a year ago today, I thought finding you was going to be a burden. Another person to take care of, another complication in my simple life.” I squeeze her hand. “I had no idea you were going to be the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Same,” she says. “A year ago, I thought getting lost was the worst thing that could happen. Turned out it was the best.”
We reach the cabin as the sun is setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Bear is waiting on the porch, and when he sees us, his tail starts wagging.
“He knows,” Sloane laughs. “Look at him. He knows something happened.”
“He’s a smart dog.” I scratch behind his ears. “We’re getting married, buddy. Officially making Sloane part of the pack.”
Bear barks and does a little spin, which is about as excited as I’ve ever seen him, and Sloane laughs so hard she has to sit down on the porch steps.
“I love this life,” she says, looking up at me with shining eyes. “I love you, and this cabin, and this ridiculous wolf-dog, and these mountains. I love all of it.”
“Good,” I say, sitting beside her and pulling her into my arms. “Because you’re stuck with it now. No takebacks.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
We sit there as the stars start to come out, engaged, planning a future that a year ago I didn’t think I could have.
And I’m grateful.
Grateful that she got lost.
Grateful that I found her.
Grateful that she was brave enough to come back when I pushed her away.
Grateful for every moment that led us here, to this porch, to this life, to this love.
“Thank you,” I whisper into her hair.
“For what?”
“For everything. For choosing me. For staying. For teaching me that I deserve good things.”
“Always,” she says. “That’s what you do when you love someone. You choose them. Every single day. And I’m going to keep choosing you for the rest of our lives.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
“Good. You should.”
And sitting there on our porch, with my fiancée in my arms and our whole future ahead of us, I know with absolute certainty that this is exactly where I’m meant to be.
Home.
With her.
Forever.
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