Page 13

Max

I t had been ten days.

Ten long, quiet, echoing days since she moved into her cabin.

I saw her around. Once on the road into town—she waved. Tight smile, hand barely lifted off the steering wheel. Another time at the grocery store, in the produce section, holding a head of lettuce like she was debating whether it was worth the effort.

I nodded. She nodded.

We didn’t speak.

It was hell.

I kept telling myself I did the right thing. That space was good. Smart. Safe.

But every night when the house settled into silence, I swore I could hear her laugh echo in the kitchen.

I caught myself cooking too much—still making extra coffee in the morning like she was going to wander in wearing one of my shirts, asking if we were out of honey.

I thought she must have gotten my shirts from the dryer. I loved her wearing my shirts.

And every time she didn’t, it was like losing her all over again.

Frasier didn’t say much. Just gave me a look once when I tried to act like everything was fine. The kind of look that said you’re a damn fool, but I’ll let you figure that out yourself.

I hated how right he was.

So when I saw her Jeep parked outside the school that Thursday afternoon, something inside me just broke.

I grabbed my phone. I sent her a text.

Want to get dinner tonight?

The Mexican place in town. Seven? My treat.

I stared at the message for a solid minute before hitting send.

Three minutes later, the dots appeared.

Then disappeared.

Then came back.

I held my breath.

Tessa:

Okay. See you at seven.

Max

I pulled up to the curb outside her cabin and saw the porch light flick on. The door opened slowly, and Tessa stepped out, her long hair swept up in a loose twist, strands escaping and catching in the breeze. She wore a simple sundress, nothing flashy, but it still made my breath catch.

She gave me a small smile as I approached her cabin, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Evening,” I said, stepping out to open the door for her. “Hope you’re hungry. Their carnitas are life-changing.”

“Sounds good,” she said, sliding into the passenger seat. Her voice was softer than usual, guarded.

Something was off. It had been off for a while now. Ever since that day outside the lodge when Frasier and I were talking. The same day she started keeping me at arm’s length.

I didn’t bring it up. Just kept the conversation light on the drive down the mountain, pointing out the place with the goat that always escaped, teasing her about how Junior Duval still thought Windex cured everything.

I even got a quiet laugh out of her when I told her about the time one of the SEALs tried to climb a tree to rescue a cat and got stuck himself.

But the more I talked, the more I noticed how quiet she stayed. Not cold, just... careful. Like she was waiting for something. Watching me out of the corner of her eye.

It wasn’t until we pulled into the parking lot of La Esquina Roja that I felt it. That shift. A loosening in her shoulders, a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Like she finally let herself sink into the moment.

That’s when I realized it wasn’t dinner she’d been uncertain about. It was me.

Inside, the warm scent of grilled onions and cumin wrapped around us, and the hostess led us to a booth by the window. I let her slide in first and tried not to overthink the way she angled herself just slightly, like she wasn’t quite sure she should be here.

“Do you always get nervous around tacos, or is it just my company?” I asked, trying for a grin.

That earned a smirk. “I just didn’t know if you were the kind of guy who talked during meals or stared at his phone the whole time.”

“Not much of a phone guy,” I said. “Unless someone’s bleeding or setting something on fire, I try to stay present.”

She nodded, her gaze lingering on me for a second longer than before.

I didn’t press. I didn’t ask what had shifted between us or why she seemed so distant now. But I saw the way she was trying to lower the walls she’d put up. Brick by careful brick.

And I had no idea what I'd done to make her build them in the first place.

The waiter dropped off a basket of chips and two glasses of water. Tessa reached for a chip, broke it in half, then set both pieces back down like she’d changed her mind.

I leaned forward. “You know, it’s physically impossible to sit at this table and not eat the chips. It’s against the laws of the mountain.”

That got another faint smile from her. “I’ve just never been good at small talk.”

“Good thing I’m fluent in awkward silences,” I said. “They were basically our second language during recon missions.”

She laughed, then caught herself, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to enjoy being here. The smile dimmed, and she glanced out the window.

“You ever feel like you’re somewhere you weren’t really invited?” she asked quietly.

The question hit me square in the chest.

I didn’t know exactly what she meant, but I could guess.

“Yeah,” I said. “Sometimes I still feel like that. Even after all this time on the mountain.”

She nodded, fiddling with her napkin. “It’s a weird thing. Feeling welcome and out of place at the same time.”

I studied her face, the way her eyes flicked away from mine every time I looked at her too long.

“You didn’t always feel that way,” I said slowly.

Her fingers stilled.

“No,” she admitted. “I didn’t.”

I waited, gave her the space to keep talking, but she just shook her head and picked up a chip this time, dipping it in salsa.

“I like it here, Max. I like the mountain. The people. Even Junior and his ridiculous advice.” She finally looked at me. “But sometimes… people say things, and it changes things. You know?”

There it was. Not a full confession, but enough to make my gut twist.

I kept my voice steady. “Tessa, if I said something—if someone else did—”

“No,” she cut in quickly. “It’s fine. I just—I guess I realized I had my hopes up. And that’s on me.”

My throat tightened.

She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t accusing me.

But she’d definitely overheard something.

And whatever it was, it hurt.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren’t wanted here,” I said, my voice low. “That was never the case. Not even for a second.”

She looked down at her plate, blinking fast. “I know.”

I wanted to say more. To ask what she heard. To explain myself. But something told me this wasn’t the moment.

Instead, I just sat there, watching her slowly let her walls come down, hoping like hell I could earn her trust back.