GHOST IN THE SNOW
prologue | part 1
a/n: i love this part so much
That night, the house was still.
Ellie had gone to sleep hours ago, after muttering about how weird people were in this town. She hadn’t brought Mark up again, but Joel could tell it was still bugging her. She’d seen something in his face, something she wasn’t used to seeing. Something broken.
Joel sat by the window in the dark, one boot still on, the other forgotten by the fire. His rifle leaned against the wall beside him, untouched. He hadn’t lit the lamp. He didn’t need to. The snow outside reflected enough moonlight to bathe the room in cold silver.
He pressed his thumb into his temple, as if he could push the thought away. As if that would change the way her eyes had looked when she smiled up at Mark. The way she’d beamed when she saw Joel earlier that day, like she trusted him. Like she knew him.
But she didn’t. And maybe that was the worst part.
She didn’t know what he’d done. Didn’t know he’d looked Olivia in the eyes and told her he didn’t want the baby. Didn’t know he’d told her to leave. Didn’t know how her mother had walked out with a ten-year-old boy and a hand on her belly, and how he’d stood there and let her go.
You gave that up, Mark had said. And he was right.
Joel rested his head against the cool windowpane, staring out over the quiet town. Jackson really was beautiful. Quiet. Safe. Just like they used to talk about back in Boston—Olivia always said she dreamed of a place like this. A place where Mark could be a kid again. Where the baby could grow up with more than fences and fear.
He’d told her dreams like that would get her killed.
And here they were. Alive. Without him.
He deserved every word Mark had thrown at him. He knew that now. No amount of guilt could change what he’d done—or what he hadn’t done. He’d buried the memory for so long he thought it wouldn’t hurt anymore.
But it did.
And the worst part?
He missed them.
He missed the sound of Mark’s little voice echoing through the apartment. He missed Olivia’s laugh, even when it was at his expense. He missed the weight of possibility in her eyes, the way she always believed they could survive one more day. And now there was a little girl—his little girl, maybe—running through Jackson with curls like her mother’s and a smile that cut him deeper than any blade.
Joel closed his eyes.
He had no right to wish for anything now.
And yet—
God help him—
he did.
The next morning the sky was a pale blue, the kind that only came after snow. Cold and clean and far too bright for the weight Joel carried in his chest.
He didn’t sleep much. Didn’t eat much either. Not since yesterday.
Joel needed air. And purpose. So he walked to the stables and started helping where he could—hauling feed, checking posts, anything to keep his hands from shaking.
But deep down, he knew what he was really waiting for.
It didn’t take long.
He spotted Mark on the far side of the barn, adjusting the hinges on a stall gate. Same set of shoulders. Same furrowed brow. That old sense of protectiveness, guilt, and something else—something Joel didn’t dare name—rose up in his chest.
He hesitated. Then walked toward him.
“Hey,” Joel said, voice low, steady.
Mark looked up. His expression stayed blank. Cold.
Joel stopped a few feet away. “I’m not here to make excuses. I just… I wanted to talk.”
Mark didn’t reply, but he didn’t walk away either.
“I saw you yesterday,” Joel said. “Didn’t recognize you at first. You’ve grown.”
Mark didn’t answer.
Joel rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I thought about what you said.”
“Yeah?” Mark’s voice was flat. “And?”
“I deserved it.”
A beat. Joel’s voice lowered further. “You’re right. I did leave. I said things I can’t take back. And I ain’t expectin’ anything now. But I wanted you to know that… I was scared.”
Mark scoffed. “We were all
Silence. Only the sound of a horse snorting nearby, and the clink of metal from the saddle rack.
Joel took a step closer. “I ain’t askin’ you to forgive me. You don’t owe me that. I just needed you to know it wasn’t because I didn’t care. I did. I still do.”
Mark’s jaw was tight. He looked down at the half-repaired hinge, his voice low. “You made her cry, you know. For weeks.”
Joel closed his eyes.Mark finally looked at him, eyes sharp. “You want to be here in Jackson? Fine. Stay. No one’s throwing you out.”
Joel held his breath, waiting for the next blow.
“But don’t confuse that with everything being okay. Don’t confuse being here with being part of our family.”
The words landed hard—like a punch that didn’t need fists.
Joel didn’t flinch. He just nodded slowly. “Understood.”
Mark turned away, bent to his work, clearly done with the conversation.
Joel stayed a few seconds longer, the frost biting at his skin. He didn’t expect warmth. He didn’t expect a welcome.
But this time, Mark hadn’t walked away. He’d listened.
And that, maybe, was a start.
The sun had dipped low, casting a golden hue across the snowbanks as Joel walked the outer path near the fields. His breath misted in the cold air, boots crunching quietly with every step. He wasn’t walking anywhere in particular. Just needed to move. To breathe.
He replayed Mark’s words over and over in his head. Don’t confuse being here with being part of our family. It hurt because it was true.
He didn’t notice her at first—not until a flash of red darted between two apple trees, a giggle breaking the stillness.
Joel froze.
The girl was crouched in the snow, bundled in her usual red coat, stacking little pinecones in a lopsided circle. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, curls wild under her wool hat. She was humming something off-key, her tongue poking out slightly as she focused.
She hadn’t seen him yet.
Joel’s first instinct was to turn away. Let her play. Let her be.
But his feet didn’t move.
He stood there, watching, something caught in his throat.
She suddenly looked up.
Her eyes landed on him, bright and open.
“Mr. Joel!” she called, waving a mittened hand. “Wanna see my snow fort?”
Joel hesitated, his voice barely there. “Sure.”
She beamed like it was the best thing anyone had said to her all day.
“C’mere!” she said, skipping toward the little patch of snow she’d shaped into a tiny wall. “It’s not done yet, but it’s strong. Mark says I should use rocks too, but that’s cheating.”
They sat there in the snow for a while, side by side. She talked about her snow fort, and the ducks by the river, and how Maria promised to teach her to ride the big horse next spring. Joel listened, barely speaking. But it was enough.
And somewhere, deep in the quiet of that fading winter light, something inside him shifted.
The cold was creeping into his knees, but Joel didn’t move. He just watched as the little girl buried a pinecone under a snow “trap” she’d made with sticks and twine.
“If the wind’s strong enough, the branch’ll fall and—bam! Gotcha!” she explained, proud of her setup.
Joel huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s clever.”
She looked up at him again, squinting at the late sun. “Do you know how to trap deer?”
“I’ve done it a few times.”
“Mark says I’m not allowed to try until I’m bigger. But I bet I could if I wanted. I’m good at sneaking.”
Joel nodded. “I bet you are.”
She grinned. “Mark’s teaching me. And Dad says maybe next winter I can help carry the antlers, if they’re not too heavy.”
Joel blinked.
“…Dad?”
She didn’t notice the hesitation in his voice. “He always lets me give the horses apples after patrol,” she said with a bright smile. “Even if I eat most of them.” She laughed softly. “Mama says I’m more trouble than help.”
Joel’s chest tightened. He looked at her more carefully. “Your Dad…”
“Yeah?”
He paused. “Is he… here? In Jackson?”
She gave him a puzzled look, like it was the strangest question in the world. “Of course he is. He lives with us.”
Joel tried to keep his face still. “And your… mom? What's her name?”
She turned to him, blinking.
“I told you already,” she said, like he’d forgotten something obvious. “She 's Mom.”
Joel opened his mouth, paused.
“But like… her real name?”
The girl squinted at him, confused. “That is her name. How else am I s’posed to call her?”
He let out a breath—half a laugh, half something else.
“Right,” he murmured. “Makes sense.”
She smiled, pleased to have cleared that up.“ They’re on patrol right now, but when they come back we’re gonna make pie.”
Joel couldn’t respond right away.
The girl leaned in like she was sharing a secret. “Dad’s the best at making crust, but Mom always burns the top.” She giggled again. “Don’t tell her I said that.”
Joel gave a soft, hollow chuckle. “My lips are sealed.”
But inside, something broke open.
They live together. She has a Dad. It’s not me.
He glanced toward the trees, like the answer might be hiding there. His mind raced with half-formed questions, bitter guesses. He thought of Olivia — her strength, her warmth, how she’d looked at him that night she left.
Had she moved on? Had she given his child t..- No, he has no right to call it his child.
Mark's words echoing in his head over and over again,
You gave that up.
Joel’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t sure what stung more: the thought of her raising their daughter without him… or the thought of someone else stepping in to love her the way he hadn’t.
The girl suddenly poked his arm.
“You okay, Mr. Joel?”
He forced himself to smile. “Yeah. Just thinkin’, that’s all.”
She nodded like she understood. “Sometimes I do that too. Mom says I get it from Dad.”
Joel’s heart twisted again.
“Y’know what else?” she added. “You kinda look like him. A little.”
He looked at her sharply.
She shrugged. “Maybe it’s the scruffy part.”
Joel didn’t say anything.
She stood up and brushed snow off her coat. “I gotta go help Maria with the goats. Bye, Mr. Joel!”
And just like that, she ran off, red coat bobbing between the trees.
Joel stood there long after she was gone.
The air felt colder now.
