Page 18

Tessa

T he cabin felt bigger without him.

It wasn’t like Max had lived here permanently—just a string of nights that had somehow stitched themselves into routine. Max, showing up with takeout. Max, stealing my pillow. Max leaving his boots by the door. Max, cooking breakfast.

Now the boots were gone. So was the quiet hum of his voice in the kitchen. So was that low, rumbly laugh I never got tired of hearing.

He’d only been gone three days.

I was a disaster.

I kept busy. Teaching helped. The fourth graders were obsessed with volcanoes right now, and I’d somehow agreed to let them build one. Junior delivered the baking soda himself, giving a speech about chemical reactions and warning everyone to do it outside.

After school, I walked to the general store and smiled when someone mentioned they’d seen me with “that Navy fella.” I tried not to blush when they said we looked good together.

Tried not to ache.

Tried not to miss him.

Back at the cabin, I curled up on the couch with tea and my laptop, pulling up the lesson plan for the week. I opened my messages, mostly out of habit.

And saw his name.

MAX

You still hog the covers when I’m not there?

I snorted, then typed back quickly.

TESSA

No. I just pretend you’re still under them.

Three dots appeared.

MAX

Careful. I’ll book a flight back just to check.

I stared at the screen, smiling so hard it hurt.

TESSA

How’s Italy?

MAX

Loud. Fast. Smells like garlic and money. I hate it.

…I miss you.

I clutched the phone to my chest for a second before I responded.

TESSA

I miss you, too.

MAX

Frasier caught me looking up flights. Said I looked like a love-struck idiot.

He’s not wrong.

I laughed into the silence of the room.

And suddenly, it didn’t feel so quiet anymore.

The days were full, but the nights?

The nights were the hardest.

That’s when I missed him the most—when the bed felt colder, the cabin quieter, and my thoughts had nothing to distract them.

He texted me every night. Nothing long. Nothing over-the-top. But always enough to make me feel like I still mattered. Like we still mattered. He always said he loved me.

Tonight, I was curled up in bed in one of his old T-shirts, the one he accidentally left behind, which still smelled like cedar and soap. I stared at my phone, hoping the message would come.

And then—there it was.

MAX

I saw a redheaded woman on a Vespa scooter today and almost got flattened by a fruit truck because I thought it was you.

TESSA

You thought I was in Italy… on a Scooter?

MAX

It made sense in the moment. Also, I might be jet-lagged and stupid with longing.

TESSA

Longing, huh?

MAX

Yeah. I miss your voice. I miss tripping over your shoes. I miss watching you try to remember where you put your keys while they’re in your hand.

TESSA

That happened ONE time.

Okay, maybe three times.

MAX

Wanna see something?

A second later, my phone lit up with a video call.

I hesitated, heart fluttering, then tapped Accept.

His face appeared, a little blurry from the streetlamp behind him, but still gorgeous in that rugged, I-haven’t-slept-much way. His hair was tousled, and he had a shadow of stubble along his jaw that made my insides turn to mush. He was so handsome.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, voice low and warm.

“Hey,” I whispered, like the moment might break if I was too loud.

He panned the camera to show the street—cobblestones, a little café, a trio of musicians playing something soft and romantic under a string of lights.

“I found this place and thought of you,” he said. “They serve this drink with lemon and honey—tastes kind of like the tea you like when you’re sleepy.”

“You’re making me jealous.”

“You’re making me homesick.”

I swallowed hard, blinking back the stupid tears that always showed up when I missed him too much.

“Max?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He froze for a heartbeat.

Then his smile turned soft and slow, like sunshine melting over me.

“Tessa,” he said, “I love you too.”

Silence stretched between us, full of everything we didn’t need to say.

And then he whispered, “When I get home, we are moving into the B&B.”

I smiled through the tears. “Good. I like the B&B.”

He laughed. “I should go before Frasier catches me being sappy and makes me run drills out of spite.”

“Tell him I said thank you for dragging you to Italy.”

“Why?”

“Because it made me realize how much I want you home.”

He looked straight into the camera. “I’m coming home to you, Tessa. Just hang on a little longer.”

Tessa

I hadn’t heard it at first.

It was the way the wind stopped. The way the night air shifted.

The way Goose-the mutt I’d unofficially adopted from town suddenly lifted his head from the foot of the bed and growled, low and rumbling. My Dad was bringing my other Dog next weekend.

I sat up, heart thudding.

“Goose?” I whispered.

He didn’t take his eyes off the front door.

I slipped out of bed and grabbed my phone, padding barefoot across the cabin. The porch light was already on, casting a soft glow through the windows.

Nothing looked out of place.

But my gut knew better.

I clicked the lock on the door, just to be sure, and backed away slowly. Then I did what any rational woman would do when her Navy SEAL boyfriend was thousands of miles away.

I texted him.

TESSA

Hey. I know it’s late there. Something feels off. Goose is growling. Can you talk?

The dots popped up immediately.

MAX

Put me on video. Now.

I clicked the camera and turned it on, my hand shaking slightly.

His face filled the screen, wide awake and alert. “Stay where you are. Show me the door.”

I flipped the camera, showing him the entryway.

“Lights outside?”

“On.”

“Any shadows? Movement?”

I scanned. “No. But Goose—he never growls like this.”

Max’s voice dropped an octave. Calm. Controlled. “Okay. Do me a favor. Go to the back of the cabin, lock the bedroom window. Stay low, and take the phone with you.”

I followed every word like it was gospel.

Once I was back in the bedroom, crouched near the dresser, I whispered, “What if it’s nothing?”

“Then we’ll laugh about it later,” he said. “But if it’s not… I need you safe.”

Just as he said that, something creaked on the porch.

Goose jumped up, barking wildly now.

My breath caught.

“Tessa. Don’t hang up. ” Max’s voice was sharp. “Is there a weapon in the cabin?”

“There’s a bat in the closet.”

“Good. Get it. Keep the phone in your other hand.”

I crawled across the floor, grabbed the bat, heart pounding so loud it was all I could hear.

Another sound—lighter this time. The click of something metal.

Max’s voice was in my ear. “Frasier’s calling the local sheriff right now. Help’s on the way.”

“I’m scared,” I whispered.

“I know, baby. I’ve got you. Just hang in there.”

Then—another knock.

A soft one.

Almost… testing.

Goose barked like hell, throwing himself at the door.

And that’s when I saw the shadow move across the window.

I sucked in a breath and clutched the bat tighter.

The shadow shifted again—closer this time.

My throat went dry. My heart pounded so loud I was sure whoever was outside could hear it.

Max’s voice was in my ear, low and steady. “Talk to me, Tess. Tell me exactly where you are.”

I crouched behind the dresser in the bedroom, clutching the bat in one hand, the phone in the other. “Back corner of the room. Closet to my left. Window locked. I can hear someone on the porch. Goose is going insane.”

“You’re doing great. Don’t move. Just stay hidden. The sheriff’s on the way. Less than five minutes out.”

“Five minutes feels like forever,” I whispered, barely able to breathe.

“I know, baby. I’m right here. Keep your eyes on that window and listen for me.”

Another knock at the door—louder this time.

Then a rattle. The door handle twisted.

Goose threw himself at it again with a snarl.

“Max,” I breathed, “they’re trying to get in.”

“Stay quiet. Stay still. Goose is buying you time. If they come inside, you do not run. You swing that bat like your life depends on it. Because it does.”

I tightened my grip until my knuckles ached.

“I wish you were here,” I choked out.

“Me too,” he said. “You have no idea how much. But I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. Not while I’m breathing.”

There was a loud crack—wood splintering.

They were trying to force the door.

My body tensed, muscles locked, eyes fixed on the bedroom door, waiting for footsteps—waiting for them to come crashing through.

And then—sirens.

Close.

The shadow disappeared.

Goose stopped barking for half a second, then growled again, racing to the window.

“Tessa?” Max’s voice was urgent. “Talk to me. What’s happening?”

I stood slowly, knees shaking. “They’re running. I saw someone cut through the trees toward the creek.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Through the window, I saw red and blue lights flash across the trees, tires crunching down the gravel road, and the sheriff’s truck skidding to a stop.

I dropped the bat and sat on the floor, shaking.

“They’re here,” I said. “They’re here.”

Max let out a breath on the other end of the line—one I didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“You’re okay now. I’m so damn proud of you, Tessa. You did everything right.”

“I was terrified,” I admitted, tears slipping down my cheeks.

“You still showed up for yourself. That’s what matters.”

Outside, the deputies were talking to Goose like he was a hero—and honestly? He kind of was.

I stayed on the line while I answered the sheriff’s questions, Max’s voice occasionally reminding me that I wasn’t alone. That I had someone— my someone—fighting to keep me safe, even from a world away.

Later that night, after the cabin was cleared, the door reinforced, and Goose was passed out like a war hero at my feet, I crawled into bed with Max still on the phone.

“You still there?” I asked softly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Close your eyes. Sleep. I’ll stay on the line until you wake up.”

And I believed him.

Because even though he wasn’t here, he was with me.