Page 10 of Master Daddy

Four months away at a stretch.

No phone signal half the time and an internet connection so unreliable it may as well be 1993 all over again.

And then coming home exhausted, beat up, smelling of diesel and saltwater. What kind of life is that for a boy like Luke? He’s got his apartment, his jobs, his friends. He doesn’t need some grumpy mountain man who disappears longer than he stays.

The fantasy fizzles, leaving a hollow ache in my chest. I shrug it off, rolling my shoulders like I’m shaking off a heavy set at the gym. No point dwelling on shit I can’t change right now.

I’m here. He’s here.

And tomorrow morning I’m spotting Luke on that bench whether he likes it or not.

My feet carry me toward the diner on autopilot. The scent of fresh coffee and grilled cheese hits me before I even push through the door. The place is busy but not slammed: locals at the counter, a few families in the booths. I slide into a stool at the end of the polished wood counter and nod at Rosie, the no-nonsense waitress who’s been here longer than I’ve been alive.

“Double espresso, Rosie. Make it strong enough to wake the dead.”

Rosie grins, already reaching for the portafilter. “Rough day, big guy?”

“Something like that.”

The coffee arrives fast and bitter-perfect. I wrap my big hands around the tiny cup and take a sip, letting the caffeine hit my system. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and see Kaleb’s name…

CHOP: New wellness spot just opened on the edge of town. Hardrock Healing Club. Sauna + cold plunge. You in? Don’t make me suffer alone, asshole.

I snort. Woo-woo nonsense. Saunas and ice baths? Sounds like something city folks pay too much money for. I type back quickly…

Mason: Hard pass on the fancy spa shit. I’ll stick to real recovery—beer and darts.

CHOP: Scared you won’t last thirty seconds in the cold plunge, asshole?

The damn bastard knows exactly which button to push. I glare at the screen, jaw tight. No way I’m letting him think I’m soft. Not happening…

Mason: Fine. One hour. Try not to cry when I outlast you.

I down the rest of the espresso in one scalding gulp and signal Rosie for another.

“Better make this one a triple shot,” I growl. “Apparently I’m doing ice baths today.”

Rosie laughs and gets to work. By the time I finish the second cup my blood is humming with caffeine and reluctant anticipation. I toss some bills on the counter, wave goodbye, and head out.

* * *

The Hardrock Healing Club sits on the western edge of town just ahead of where the forest starts to thicken.

From the outside it looks more like an upscale mountain lodge than some trendy wellness center: rough-hewn timber beams, big stone foundation, massive windows reflecting the pines.

Inside it’s even better.

Warm lighting, the rich scent of cedar and eucalyptus, soft instrumental music playing low. Exposed wood everywhere, clean lines mixed with rugged texture.

I truly hate to admit it, but it’s fucking nice. Stylish without being pretentious. Rugged without feeling like a logging camp.

Kaleb’s already in the changing room when I arrive, stripping down to swim shorts. He grins like he’s won the lottery. “Knew you’d show. Pride’s a hell of a drug.”

“Shut up and show me this ice torture chamber before I change my mind,” I laugh, a look of somewhere between trepidation and outright panic on my face.

We grab towels and head through to the sauna area. There are three wood-burner saunas of different sizes, all glowing with heat. We pick the medium one, step inside, and close the thick cedar door. The heat slams into me immediately… dry, intense, perfect.

I settle onto the upper bench, leaning back against the warm wood, legs spread, arms resting on my thighs. Sweat starts beading on my chest within minutes.