Page 12

Sawyer

I know these woods better than anyone. I know how to walk them quietly and how to see without being seen. I know every break in the trees, every dip in the land. And right now, I’m using that knowledge like a weapon.

Tessa walks beside me, her fingers laced through mine. I haven’t let go since the text came in.

“Cute view this morning. Hope you slept well.” A photo of the cabin. Taken from the tree line. From behind the damn porch.

It was sent while we were in bed, wrapped in each other.

My blood’s been simmering since I saw it. But the second she turned pale and whispered, “They were that close?”—I stopped simmering. I started boiling.

Whoever it is, they’ve been careful. Smart, but not smart enough.

I don’t like leaning on people, but Tessa said we had to ask for help. Sadie and Reid had come right over and Reid helped me figure out the most likely place for the stalker to be.

Sadie and Reid stayed back our place, but Tessa insisted on coming with me. I didn’t want her to. But the look she gave me, that mix of fire and steel, I couldn’t say no.

Reid’s directions led us here, to a trail off the ridge that barely qualifies as a path. It’s overgrown, full of ferns and low branches. The kind of place no one hikes unless they know where they’re going.

We move in silence until I spot it, a plastic storage case, barely visible behind a split tree stump, just off the trail. I hold up a hand, and Tessa stops. I move closer. Crouch low. Flip open the box.

Inside: a tablet, wireless transmitter, a second phone. Wires, a car battery in a waterproof shell. Plus one very familiar trail camera, the same model as the one we found earlier. Same mount. Same rig.

There’s movement ahead. Someone shifting behind the trees. Quiet, but not quiet enough. I straighten.

“Tessa,” I say, low and firm. “Stay behind me.”

She nods. I step into the clearing and see who has been stalking the woman I love— it’s Tracy Cartwright. She’s crouched near another camera, adjusting something. Doesn’t even see me until I speak.

“Nice view this morning, huh?”

She jumps like I fired a gun. “Sawyer!” Her voice is too high, too fake. “I didn’t see you there—”

“No,” I say, stepping closer, voice flat. “I’m sure you didn’t.”

Tessa steps out behind me, eyes narrowing the second she sees Tracy. “What the hell is this?” Tessa demands.

Tracy stands up, brushing her hands on her jeans. “I was trying to help you. I knew someone was watching you two and thought if I caught them, I could—”

“Stop lying,” I snap.

Her mouth twists. “You don’t know what it’s like. I’ve been waiting for you to notice me, and then I had to watch her waltz into town and into your cabin like she belonged there.”

Tessa steps forward, her voice stronger now. “You took pictures of us through the window. While we slept.”

“You weren’t supposed to sleep there,” Tracy snaps. “You were supposed to leave. That’s what they all do. Come in, flirt, play pretend, then go. But not you, you stayed, like that other one with Reid.”

“You don’t even know me,” Tessa says.

“I didn’t have to. You were in his space. His cabin. His clothes.”

“You were jealous,” I realize. “You thought what if she left, I’d finally notice you?”

She flinches, then lifts her chin. “You never gave anyone else a chance. Not once. You were just brooding and quiet and unreachable. Until her.”

“You violated our privacy. You stalked us.”

“I didn’t hurt anyone,” she mutters.

“You don’t know that,” I say, low and lethal. “You broke the law, and the sheriff is on the way. We’re taking the cameras. You’re done. If I ever see you near my property again, you’ll have a hell of a lot more to worry about than a trespassing charge.”

Tracy doesn’t argue. She sits and awaits her fate. I use my walkie-talkie to tell Reid where we are and to get the sheriff here. Only then do I turn back to Tessa. She’s trembling.

I take a few steps toward her and pull her into my arms. She comes willingly. She collapses against me like her body’s been waiting for this moment to fall apart. Her fingers dig into the back of my hoodie. Her forehead presses into my chest.

“She was so close,” she whispers. “For days.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

I hold her tighter, rubbing her back in slow circles, like I can ground her with touch alone. Like if I just keep her close enough, nothing will ever hurt her again.

“Tessa, I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. Not just in my bed, not just in my house, but in my life. You walked in like a storm and somehow made everything quieter. You see through me. You stay when it’s hard. You make me feel like a man again, not a shadow.”

She blinks, eyes glassy.

I take her face in my hands. “I want you in my mornings. In my silence. In my chaos. I want to build a life around the sound of your laugh and your bare feet on my porch and the way you kiss me like you’re afraid to let go.”

A tear slips down her cheek. I brush it away with my thumb.

“You make me believe in things I thought were long gone. And I’m not letting you walk out of here thinking this was anything less than everything.”

She launches into me, her arms around my neck. Lips on mine. Mouth urgent and soft and shaking with emotion.

I hold her like a lifeline. Because she is.

She pulls back, breathless. “That’s the first time you’ve given me a speech.”

“You liked it?”

She laughs, wiping her cheeks. “I loved it. I love you.”

I smile, wide and full and real. Then I kiss her again, slower this time. Deeper. The trees stand quietly around us, but I swear they know. This woman will be mine forever.