FAITHFUL: The Mountain Man’s Babies Read online

  FAITHFUL

  The Mountain Man’s Babies

  Frankie Love

  Contents

  Copyright

  About the Book

  Part I

  1. Jonah

  2. Faith

  3. Jonah

  4. Faith

  5. Jonah

  6. Faith

  7. Jonah

  8. Jonah

  9. Jonah

  Part II

  10. Faith

  11. Jonah

  12. Faith

  13. Jonah

  14. Faith

  15. Jonah

  16. Faith

  17. Jonah

  18. Faith

  19. Jonah

  Epilogue 1

  Epilogue 2

  Preview

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Edited by Peppermint Editing and Teresa Banschbach

  Cover by Mayhem Cover Creations

  Copyright © and 2019 by Frankie Love

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  About the Book

  The Mountain Man’s Babies

  The moment I saw her I knew.

  Knew that we would have a future, a family, a forever.

  Her father says she’s too young, too naive, too innocent.

  But she is more than he knows.

  She’s the love of my goddamn life.

  She is gone in the blink of an eye.

  But this mountain was made for miracles, and I’m fighting for ours.

  I have faith in the impossible.

  Faith in us.

  And nothing will stop me from being the man she needs.

  Dear Reader,

  FAITHFUL is the epic conclusion to the most romantic series to ever land on your Kindle.

  I didn’t hold back with this one.

  Suspense. Secrets. Steam.

  But most of all, babies.

  I promise you, Jonah is the baby-daddy of the year.

  Get ready, sweetheart…

  This trip to Miracle Mountain is gonna be one heck of a ride!

  xo, frankie

  Part One

  “Where there is hope, there is faith.

  Where there is faith, miracles happen.”

  —Unknown

  Chapter One

  Jonah

  The walk to the lake is a quiet one. Of course, it is. Some people might think that this no-name mountain town is too small, too old-fashioned — hell, too fertile — but I love it all the same.

  And after being in Alaska for the last eighteen months, I’m glad to be back home. Home. It took a long ass time for me to get comfortable with that word. For years, home was only ever something I wanted to run from. Leave and never look back. Finally, I know where I want to be.

  Where I belong.

  I’ve only been back a few days, after I did a long stint on deep sea crab boats up in Alaska and made a shit ton of cash. Before I came back, I bought a house, sight unseen. Of course, I had my long-time friend Josie scout it out for me; make sure it would be a place I could settle into for a long time.

  A month ago, I called her, telling her I need a house. She laughed when I told her I was ready to settle down, just like she had with her husband Beau. “This isn’t the same Jonah I remember,” she said. “Since when do you want to put down roots?”

  “I’m done playing games, I’m over the dating scene. I’m an old man, Josie.”

  She snorted. “Old? Jonah, you’re twenty-six. Not exactly old.”

  “Not exactly young, either.” I sighed, running hand over my beard, wishing I were already back on the mountain I know and love. “And you know I’ve seen a lot of shit in my day. I’m an old soul, Jos.”

  “I know, Jonah. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love this news. Forrest will be so happy to hear that Uncle Jonah is moving home.”

  Thinking about her oldest son filled my heart with longing. I’d never thought about a family before; hell, every time I tried to find myself a girl on Miracle Mountain it had ended poorly. Josie and I were fast friends — could make one another laugh easily and always had one another’s backs. Virginia and I had never been anything more than opposites. I heard she’s married now. And Grace and I had tried, but we were too similar; had pasts that were too closely linked. I wanted to run from that shared history, so she and I were never going to happen.

  Seems like most people who end up on this piece of Earth find their one true love really fucking fast. Me? I was never lucky like that. So, finally I left for Alaska. Tired of being alone.

  Turns out, Alaska is a hell of a lot lonelier than the mountain where all your friends live.

  Now, I’m back. With a lakeside cabin, my own dock, my own boat. Not a crab pot in sight.

  The weather is gorgeous today: blue sky, not a cloud in sight, and I thank my lucky stars Josie found this place. A private lake nestled in the mountain with no one for miles around.

  I’m still learning the lay of the land, and so I set out on a trail I haven’t taken yet with a backpack and lunch, ready to explore. The last owner clearly knew this land like the back of their hand and wove paths throughout the forest to different spots on the small lake.

  The wind rustles through the leaves as I walk down the trail, the fresh, clean air filling my lungs as I survey my property. I step over dead logs covered in moss and my feet crunch the pinecones dotting the ground. It’s April and the winter snow has finally melted, giving way to wild mushrooms and toadstools, with wildflowers just beginning to push through the rich soil.

  When I get to the water’s edge I pause, seeing a woman sitting on a rock slab, all alone. Sunshine is glittering off the waves and it creates a glow around her. Her long strawberry blonde hair is loose, wavy, and thick, down her back, the edges brushing against the rock. She is looking off into the distance, her profile so beautiful, so delicate. She doesn’t hear me, and I don’t want to startle her, but damn, I need to get closer.

  I walk toward her, drawn to her, and when my foot cracks against a fallen branch, she turns, startled, and lets out a small ‘eek’.

  Her eyes widen as they meet mine, dark green like the pine trees around us, freckles across her nose and cheeks, and my heart stops. Pounds. Knows.

  “Sorry for startling you,” I say, stepping toward her, my feet crunching on the fallen leaves. “I’m Jonah Rye.”

  “Oh, it’s okay,” she says, her voice breathy, airy. Light. She. Is. Light. “I’m Faith.” She bites her bottom lip. “I’ve just never seen anyone out here. It scared me.”

  “You come here often?” I ask, walking closer. Willing myself to take it slow. She looks like she scares easily.

  She hesitates, then nods, as if unsure if she should answer.

  “Not once,” I tell her. “I just bought the cabin up the trail.”

  She closes her eyes, and I notice she has a journal on the rock. A pen in her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m totally trespassing, aren’t I?”

  “It’s okay,” I say, close enough to reach out and touch her. “I can share my lake.”

  “A whole lake for yourself? That’s fancy.” She smiles, her shoulders relaxing. Good, I don’t want to scare her.

  I smirk. “Not fancy. Just found a good deal.”

  “It’s beautiful,” she says. “I honestly didn’t know anyone owned it. Last year after I moved to the state, I was looking at a map of the area, and decided to find every piece of water on these mountains. T
o explore as much as possible.”

  “You’re not from Idaho?”

  She shakes her head. “Nashville. My family moved here last winter.”

  “And do you like it?”

  She smiles. “At first, no. It was so quiet. So lonely. But then spring rolled around, and I was tired of whining. I decided to fall in love.”

  My eyebrows lift. Love? Please tell me she’s single.

  “And did you?” I ask.

  She nods as she takes in a deep breath. “One day I decided to take a notebook and just write everything I was thinking and feeling down. I thought my dad was the writer of the family— he’s a songwriter— but it turns out, I’m a writer too. And this mountain is the perfect place to be inspired. Now I feel like they go hand in hand. Words and this place. I’m writing a novel about the sea, and so every day I look for water.” She waves her hand in the air. “I’m sorry, you didn’t ask for any of that.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t apologize.” I’m itching to sit next to her, to keep listening to everything she has to say, I want to know her story. “Mind if I sit?” I ask.

  She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, scooting over. I sit next to her on the rock, looking over my lake. You can’t see my place from here, or anything but water and trees; the mountain peaks above us.

  “So, it’s the mountain you fell in love with, is that right?”

  She nods. “Yeah, didn’t think it was possible. Always thought I was a city girl. But somehow this place became my home.”

  “I can relate. Well, not to the city part exactly, but my love affair with this place was a slow burn. It took time. But I just moved back this week and don’t plan on leaving.”

  “Where were you?”

  “Alaska, out on crab boat for eighteen months with a bunch of guys.”

  “Sounds like an adventure,” she says wistfully.

  “Sounds like prison.”

  She laughs at that. Her laughter is light and sweet. Pure. “So, are you from here originally, Jonah?”

  I shake my head. “Nah, but I have friends here who are like family. Josie and Beau, they live down on the north ridge. And James and Cherish, we go way back. Rosie and I have history too. Do you know any of them?”

  Faith nods. “A bit. My father and his wife spend time with them some. But I spend most of my free time up in Eagle Crest. I work at Cup of Joe.”

  “That town’s booming.”

  Faith shrugs. “Yeah, not like Nashville though.”

  “You miss it?”

  Faith smiles wistfully. “You ever have that feeling, where you know it’s time to move on, but you just don’t know where you’re moving onto yet?”

  I give her a wry grin. “Story of my fucking life.”

  She looks me over, and I know she sees the tattoos that line my forearm. My flannel shirt is rolled up to my elbows, but there are plenty of stories to trace in the ink she can see. I wonder if she could see more than what is on my surface? Most women I’ve dated never go deeper than that. Maybe I never let them.

  “I used to think life made sense,” she says. “But along the way, I realized everything is more complicated than I thought. Nothing is black and white. But the gray is kind of terrifying. So much space there, sometimes it feels so big I could get swallowed up whole by a whale.”

  “A whale?” I undo the top four buttons on my flannel, show her my chest where I have a big grey whale, tattooed.

  She reaches out her fingertips to touch it. My skin grows hot as she traces the black lines. “Whales are known for their compassion and solitude, for understanding life and death.”

  I nod. “Exactly.”

  “My story,” she says, her voice catching. “The one I’m writing, has a working title.”

  “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

  “The Great Whale and his Golden Girl.”

  “Truly?”

  She nods, her fingertip still on my skin. I don’t want her to pull away. Ever.

  For a moment everything stops. The world. The waves on the water. My heart.

  She reaches for her journal, flips the pages. Shows me her notes.

  The Great Whale and his Golden Girl. Her story.

  “Can I show you something?” I ask her, needing more. More. More.

  Her.

  She nods. “Please,” she says. “Show me everything.”

  Chapter Two

  Faith

  He has eyes that are blue like the water and a smile that could erase anyone’s fear. He is confident and looks me in the eyes, and when I traced the whale on his chest, my own heart was pounding. Like it was the first time I’ve ever come up for air. He’s a stranger. But he knows people that I know and so I trust him. More than I should. I follow him, to a place I’ve never been.

  He takes my hand in his and we fit together like a puzzle piece and I don’t want him to let go. Maybe ever. I follow him down the trail, toward his cabin, and I want to stay there. With him. A man with a beard and a flannel, whose hands are calloused but whose heart is open.

  You can’t have a whale tattoo and be cruel. So, when he looks back at me, his eyes bright as the sun, I know I am safe here. With him.

  “Ignore the mess,” he says. “I want to show you the one thing I brought back from Alaska.”

  We climb the steps of the porch. It overlooks the lake, and it’s beautiful. Different than Dad and Virginia’s sprawling farmhouse — this is a quintessential mountain cabin on a lake. Inside there are boxes; furniture that looks brand new. And over the fireplace is a wood-carved orca. I know it’s what he wanted to show me.

  “Oh, Jonah, it’s beautiful.” I take in the whale, mounted on a piece of steel so it looks like it is jumping, swimming, moving. The black and white painted details are precise, yet it has a weathered look. Worn. I look at Jonah. Is he tired, too? It sounds like it’s been a long time since he’s been home.

  We stand before the carving, it’s nearly two feet high. “I grew up with a family who was really religious,” he says. “And in the bible, Jonah makes a lot of mistakes. But he gets another shot. That’s kind of my life now, a second chance.”

  “Did you make a lot of mistakes?” I ask, turning toward him.

  He runs a hand through his hair. “I had a lot of baggage. When I left home, I left a lot of people behind, people who could have used my help. And for a long time, shit, I carried that.”

  I try to understand what he means, but it feels cryptic. “Could you have done anything?” I ask. “For the people you left?”

  He lifts his eyebrows. “I was a kid, so no.”

  “And now you’re all grown up. Can you fix what was broken?”

  He presses his palm to the back of his neck. “It’s fixed on its own. My family was in a cult — it sounds crazy, but it’s the truth. And thankfully, the government got everyone who needed saving out, and the other people went to prison. My father included. My mother moved to Arizona, where another following was coming together. I realized she didn’t want saving.”

  “You have no other family?”

  “I have a few siblings, grown now, and everyone did like I did — forged a life of their own.”

  “Whale families stick together,” I say. “Live and die, as a close-knit tribe.”

  Jonah nods. “Yeah, I read they even mourn together. Crazy right? Through thick and thin, the pod sticks together. I never experienced that kind of love.”

  “My family is like that,” I tell Jonah. “My mom died a few years ago. My dad was a wreck, it’s why we moved out here. My friends were all going to college, but I couldn’t go with them. Wouldn’t go. I wanted to be here with my family, wanted to process alongside our little tribe.”

  Jonah smiles at me. It’s a sad smile. Full of longing. Unrealized need. “You’re lucky.”

  I nod. “I know.”

  “So, your dad, he got remarried then, out here?”

  “Yeah, he married a woman named Virginia.”

  “No shit?” Jonah shakes h
is head. “I heard she got hitched.”

  “You know her?”

  Jonah nods. “Yeah, she’s sweet. Josie says her husband had a bunch of kids.”

  My cheeks redden. “Yeah, I’m one of them.”

  Jonah frowns. “Uh, how old are you, Faith?”

  “Nineteen.” I can see him visibly relax.

  “Fuck, you scared me for a second.”

  “You’re not scared anymore?” I ask, teasing him.

  He chuckles. “Should I be?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t bite.”

  Our eyes meet again. And I swear he looks at me a beat too long. Or maybe it’s a beat that is filled with more than any look I’ve ever been given.

  I don’t want him to look away.

  “How old are you?” I ask.

  He steps toward me. We face one another. If he kissed me now, I’d melt against him. It’s like every exchange we have is deeper than just words. Than just lines. It’s like we’re sharing pieces of ourselves that no one else will ever have.

  “Twenty-six,” he tells me.

  I smile. “Older and wiser?”

  His mouth turns up, dimples appear. I know I am falling. Have fallen. He will catch me. I know he will.

  “Only time will tell.” He presses his hand to my cheek. Heat rises within me. I step closer. “I want to kiss you, Faith.”

  “You should,” I whisper.

  “You’re different.”

  “So, I’ve been told.”