Brad.
Six months of my life wasted on a man who talked big about supporting my dreams but secretly resented every minute I spent writing instead of paying attention to him. Who promised to help me get on my feet after college, then held it over my head every chance he got.
Who put his hands on me when I told him I was leaving.
The bruise on my wrist has darkened overnight, clear fingerprints where he grabbed me. I touch it gently, remembering the fury in his eyes when I told him I was done. The way he'd grabbed me, squeezing until I thought the bones would snap.
And then the satisfying wheeze when my knee connected with his groin.
I hadn't been lying when I told Elias I'd handled it. But I'd also been terrified. Brad knows people in Grizzly Ridge. His family has money, connections. The fact that I kneed him in the balls isn't going to be forgotten easily.
So I'd run to the one place, the one person, who's always made me feel safe.
To the man who looks at me like I'm both salvation and temptation.
I strip off my clothes and head for the shower attached to the guest room, letting hot water wash away the lingering fear and tension. As steam fills the small space, I can't help but imagine Elias in here earlier, water sluicing down that broad chest, over the ridged muscles of his abdomen, lower...
Heat pools between my thighs, and I press my forehead against the cool tile. This is bad. Really bad. I'm homeless, jobless, and lusting after a man who's twice my age and knew me when I was in pigtails.
A man who made a deathbed promise to my father.
I shut off the water and wrap myself in a towel, determined to pull myself together. I've never been one to wallow, even when life kicks me in the teeth. Dad always said I got my stubbornness from Mom, the woman who'd insisted on going hiking eight months pregnant because she'd "already missed out on enough adventures."
That same love for adventure later killed her, and Dad never quite recovered. But he raised me to be strong anyway.
I dress in clean clothes, jeans, a soft blue sweater that brings out my eyes, and braid my wet hair. There's a landline in the kitchen, and even though making calls on a house phone feels like stepping back in time, I need to start figuring out my next steps.
First call, my landlord. Yes, I know rent's due. No, I won't be renewing. Yes, I'll be by to pick up my things as soon as I find a place to stay.
Second call, the Grizzly Ridge Gazette. The local paper occasionally publishes my articles, mostly human interest stories about mountain life. They don't have any work right now, but they'll keep me in mind.
Third call: my friend Sophie who works at the diner. She doesn't answer, but I leave a message asking if they need extra help.
By the time I've exhausted my options, it's clear that finding a job and a place to live in Grizzly Ridge's off-season is going to be harder than I thought. Tourism doesn't pick up until late spring, and most businesses run with minimal staff through the winter.
I'm staring at the phone, wondering who else I can call, when a truck pulls into the driveway. My heart jumps, thinking Elias is back early, but it's a sheriff's department vehicle instead.
Sawyer McKenna.
I've met the sheriff before, of course. He and Dad were friends too, though not as close as Dad and Elias. Still, his unexpected arrival sends a spike of anxiety through me.
Has Brad filed charges? Claimed I attacked him? It would be just like him to twist the story.
I open the door before Sawyer can knock, trying for a casual smile. "Sheriff McKenna. What brings you up the mountain?"
Sawyer looks exactly like his brothers, tall, broad-shouldered, with those penetrating blue eyes that seem to be a McKenna family trait. The silver at his temples is the only thing that distinguishes him from Elias at a distance.
"Miss Hart." He tips his hat slightly. "Didn't expect to find you here."
"Just...visiting." The lie feels obvious, but I don't know what else to say.
Sawyer's gaze drops to my wrist, where the bruise is clearly visible. His expression doesn't change, but something cold enters his eyes. "That so?"
I resist the urge to hide my arm behind my back. "Is there something I can help you with, Sheriff? Elias is out doing the wildlife count."
"I know. I'm the one who approved his schedule." He studies me a moment longer. "Mind if I come in? Got something to discuss with you."
My stomach drops, but I step aside. Sawyer enters, sweeping the cabin with a practiced eye before settling his hat on the counter. He doesn't sit, and neither do I.
