Page 14 of No Axe to Grind (Ashwood Falls #1)

She snorts and tosses Trace a grateful smile, one hand still gripping her phone like it might disappear if she lets go. "Thanks for getting my stuff. I was seriously going through withdrawals."

"Anytime," he says, flashing one last grin. I step in front of him and open the door wide, not-so-subtly guiding him toward it. "Go on, back to your squirrel duties," I mutter, nudging him with my elbow. "Go. Before you try to charm the dogs too." I whisper to him.

Rocco barks, as if seconding the motion.

"Too late. Toby and I are already besties.

" He replies with a smile.Trace laughs, salutes the dogs, and steps outside into the snow. I shut the door firmly behind him and exhale hard, like I’ve just purged chaos from the cabin. Peace, restored—at least for now.

Dinner is simple—spaghetti and meatballs, a meal I can cook in my sleep.

I brown the meat while the sauce simmers; the noodles bubbling.

Meanwhile, Tessa is perched on the edge of the couch like a hawk with a mission, her eyes glued to her phone as it charges on the armrest. She’s swiping, tapping, scrolling so fast I’m half-convinced she’s trying to summon a helicopter rescue or code a weather satellite.

The cord keeps slipping loose, and she plugs it back in with the intensity of someone giving CPR.

"You okay over there, NASA?" I ask, stirring the sauce.

She glances up as if she just remembered I exist, eyes wide and stressed.

"I’ve missed three calls from my best friend, eighteen texts from Kyle apologizing for getting caught with his pants down literally, and I’m 97% sure my mother has the entire planet looking for me. But other than that? Peachy."

I don’t say it out loud, but I kind of like hearing her voice fill the space—even if it’s venting. I go back to stirring, trying not to burn the meatballs or get too caught up watching her reconnect with a world she clearly misses... even if it’s the one that keeps kicking her while she’s down.

"So, uh... you good?" I ask.

She looks up, eyes wide. "Even though I missed my flight, my boss left a lot of voicemails saying if I’m not back tomorrow, I’m fired."

I pause, watching the way her shoulders curl inward and her eyes gloss over, pain seeping into every line of her posture.

It hits me like a gut punch—how much she’s trying to hold together, how tired she looks from holding it all in.

My voice is quiet when I speak. "You want to take a swing at something? Maybe use my axe? Might help to let some of it out on a tree that won’t talk back. "

I try to keep it light, but my throat tightens as I say it. I don’t care about the damn tree. I care she looks like she’s about to shatter. And if handing her an axe and pointing to a spruce outside means giving her a sliver of control back, I’ll sharpen the blade myself.

She lets out a half-laugh, half-sob, rubbing her hands down her thighs like she’s working up the nerve.

"Actually, yeah. That devil tree. I want it gone.

I want the initials gone. I want to un-exist them.

I want to erase every carved letter as if it never mattered—as if he never mattered.

Can I even do that? Just... erase the past with the swing of an axe? "

I turn the burners down on the stove and then I grab the axe leaning against the doorframe and open the front door. "Go for it. Let's do it."

But she doesn’t move.

"I can’t," she whispers, her voice frayed and brittle. Her eyes shine, not with anger this time, but with a sadness that digs deep and doesn’t let go. "It doesn’t matter anymore. I tried everything. I gave him everything. And I still lost. I just want to go home. I want it all to stop hurting."

I put the axe down.

"Then let’s play checkers—I'll even let you win.

Or we can rewatch Die Hard and argue about whether it's a Christmas movie.

We could sand more totems and see who gets more sawdust on the dogs.

Or just sit by the fire and yell at the wind like two unhinged snow goblins.

Whatever works, Tessa. Just let me help. "

She's quiet at first, but finally speaks, her voice barely holding steady.

"He cheated on me. With his coworker. We had our whole life mapped out.

He was supposed to move to Hibiscus Harbor—that's where I live in Florida—and we were going to get married, have kids, build a life together.

I thought surprising him this week, showing up to help him pack, would be this cute story we'd tell someday.

You know, one of those romantic 'remember when' moments. "

She swallows hard, blinking fast, like she's trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill.

"Instead, I walked into a damn horror show. And now? I'm probably getting fired tomorrow for missing work, my best friend and my mom probably think I’ve been eaten by a bear, and I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with a broken heart, broken toe, and no backup plan. "

Her laugh is short, and bitter, laced with exhaustion. "What a mess, huh?"

My jaw tightens, fists clenching at my sides.

"I should find him," I mutter, voice low and sharp.

"Make sure he never hurts you—or anyone else—again." The thought of her walking into that nightmare, of someone taking her joy and twisting it into pain, makes something in me burn white-hot. I don’t know what it is exactly, but it’s protective and primal and loud as hell.

She huffs out a breath. "I don’t need vigilante justice. Just... kindness."

I nod once. "That I can do."

And for the first time since I carried her into my cabin with fire in her eyes and a chainsaw in her hands, she looks at me like she’s not just seeing some gruff stranger in the woods—but someone who might actually give a damn.

It’s cautious and fragile, a look that carries years of hurt behind it, but it’s there. And it damn near levels me.