The Billionaire's Christmas Baby(32)

Hannah tried to focus on not falling in the deep snow. She lost her grip on the leash and swore under her breath while Charlie ran off, exhilarated by his freedom. Hannah yelled after him, forgoing her hold on the rope, instinctively choosing to run after the dog. A few steps out into the almost waist-high snow, the porch light was now impossible to be seen through the thick wind. She yelled Charlie’s name as loud as she could, careful to keep her bearings so she’d be able to walk back to the house. At the sound of a bark she spun around, but there was still no sign of Charlie. She ventured out a few more steps, knowing the situation was getting more and more dangerous. She didn’t have her rope to guide her back and she knew how easily a person could become disoriented and lost in a blizzard. She turned around to where she thought the deck should be and began trudging through the snow, feeling the snow seep through her clothing.

Seconds turned into minutes and Hannah tried not to panic as the only sound she could hear was that of ice pellets, and the only thing she could feel was a frigid cold seep through her. She kept calling for Charlie but couldn’t hear anything except her own voice engulfed by the wind. She trudged along, but with each step felt herself move farther and farther from any chance of finding Charlie. Or the cabin.

No one was going to find her out here. Even if Jackson looked for her, it was impossible to find a person in this. She needed to find her way back on her own. She had been in trouble before. She could do this. She could find her own way back—despite the fact that merely moving her legs through the snow was becoming more and more laborious. There was no way a blizzard was going to be her ending. Emily needed her.





Chapter Seven

Jackson piled the wood logs on the porch and stomped his feet, snow tumbling off his boots. He was used to winters like this, growing up in the North. He actually had a few fond memories of his dad, before his mother died. His father had been kind and patient. Jackson would follow him out to the barn and watch as he’d chop wood for the fire. As a kid, he didn’t quite grasp how dangerous the weather was, though his father had drilled into him how deadly it could be.

Jackson stretched his arms wide, feeling better having worked off some of his frustrated energy while getting the firewood. He hadn’t thought about anything other than Hannah and her accusations. He had never gone from desire to pure anger in a matter of minutes with anyone in his life. Hannah knew how to push all his buttons. She’d made his idea about giving his niece money sound like he was a villain. The more he thought about what she’d said the more he realized how she was right. She got to him. Everywhere.

The glow of the fireplace from the porch made him stop for a moment. For a second he could have sworn he smelled his mother’s baking. And for a moment, he didn’t know why, he let himself stay in the past. He remembered when he’d race into the house after school, his mother stopping him with a smile and shake of her hand, reminding him to take off his shoes. That feeling of love that was always there drifted through him. His little sister would worship him and tag along with him. When did it all go wrong? Why hadn’t their father been stronger for them? He could see all their faces, smiling, laughing around the dinner table.

It had been years since he’d let himself think back to those days. Jackson cursed under his breath knowing his mother would be horrified if she knew he rejected his only niece, his only family because of his anger toward his sister. He rejected her grandchild. That didn’t make him much better than his father, did it? He stamped his feet and fisted his hands so tightly they were painful. He knew what he had to do because no matter that he’d changed his name, he was still his mother’s son and she had raised him better than this.

Jackson blinked back the moisture in his eyes that he knew must be from the ferocious wind, and not some overzealous emotions. He cleared his throat and mentally braced himself for his next encounter with Hannah.

He knew something was wrong the second he walked into the eerily quiet house. He strode down the hallway to Hannah’s bedroom. His eyes narrowed in on Emily, who slept contentedly, but there was no Hannah anywhere. Then he heard the sound of paws scratching the back door and he strode across to the back room, not bothering to take off his wet boots or coat. Sure enough, Charlie was outside on the porch scratching at the door. A sick feeling gripped him as he opened the door and Charlie barked furiously at him. Charlie shook himself clear of snow and continued to bark. The porch light was on, Hannah’s coat and boots were gone, and Charlie had been outside by himself.