Chapter 9 - The Vermont RoadThree days later, a dusty blue pickup truck bumped along the unpaved, snow-dusted country road leading into rural Vermont.
The trees were barren, skeletal fingers reaching up toward a gray autumn sky, and the air smelled of woodsmoke, wet pine, and approaching winter.
In the passenger seat, Jacey pressed her face against the cold glass, watching the familiar white farmhouse come into view over the crest of the hill. The yellow paint was peeling slightly, the porch railing still had that loose board Austin had nailed down six years ago, and the old iron kettle was probably still sitting on the wood stove inside.
“Is this really our house?” Jacey asked, looking up at Austin with wide, wondering gray-blue eyes.
Austin pulled the truck to a stop by the front gate, killed the engine, and turned off the ignition. The silence of the Vermont countryside rushed in to fill the cab—vast, deep, and completely peaceful.
“It’s ours,” Austin said softly, unbuckling his seatbelt. “For as long as you want it to be.”
Jacey unbuckled her own belt, hesitated for a second, and then threw her small arms around his neck, burying her face in his jacket.
Austin froze for a fraction of a second—not because he didn't want to hug her back, but because for the first time in his entire life, he didn't have to look over his shoulder for a gun barrel or a betrayal.
He wrapped his arms around her small frame, holding her tight, and let out a long, shuddering breath that felt like thirty years of weight finally lifting from his chest.
“Are we going to plant a garden in the spring?” she whispered against his shoulder.
“Whatever you want, Jacey,” Austin smiled, kissing the top of her brown hair. “Whatever you want.”
They stepped out of the truck together, walking hand in hand up the wooden steps of the porch.
As Austin pushed the front door open, letting the warm scent of cedar and old memories wash over them, he looked back out at the endless white road stretching away into the hills.
The past was finally buried.
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The ghost of the mafia prince was dead.
And for the first time in thirty-seven years, Austin Cole was simply a father coming home.
