It was a bitter winter night, the air sharp with silence and snow crunching beneath heavy boots. The Washington lodge loomed in the distance, unchanged and yet heavy with the weight of absence. A year had passed since Hannah and Beth disappeared—but the memory clung to the mountain like fog.

Josh had invited you all back.

Said it was for closure. For healing.

You weren’t sure if you believed that… but you came anyway.

And now, you sat quietly on the worn wooden steps outside the cabin, the cold biting through your jacket, breath curling like smoke in the air. You watched your fingers fidget in your lap, the distant hum of wind howling through the trees.

Then you heard him.

Boots. Confident. Unhurried.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Mike Munroe’s voice cut through the cold, smooth and familiar. You looked up to find him standing just a few feet away, hands in his jacket pockets, his signature grin in place and that damn glint in his eye. “How you holdin’ up?” he asked, tone surprisingly gentle… right before he winked.

Of course.

Classic Mike.

He’d always had a thing for you—relentless flirting, leaning in too close, those cocky one-liners. You’d turned him down more times than you could count. You told yourself it was because he was too much, too arrogant, too into himself.

And yet… he was still here. Talking to you. Not Jess. Not Emily. You.

Something about the way his voice softened tonight was different.

Maybe this mountain changed more than just the weather.