Page 20 of No Axe to Grind (Ashwood Falls #1)
I blink, surprised and a little breathless.
"Seriously?" The word barely escapes me, floating somewhere between hope and disbelief. A rush of emotion surges up—relief, anticipation, maybe even a little fear. I could finally get back home. To my life. To what’s familiar. But even as the thought lands, something tugs inside me, soft and uncertain, like a thread I’m not ready to unravel.
He nods. "Long as you don’t mind some rattling airplane parts and a thermos of gas station coffee."
"Honestly, I’ve had worse. Yes. I mean, thank you. Yes. That’d be amazing."
"Well, then, it's settled. Meet me at this address at ten sharp. Bring your own barf bag." He laughs and with that, he walks off, whistling a tune that might be the theme to the Top Gun movie.
I stand there, stunned. I have a ride. I can go home. This is what I wanted. Right?
I should be overjoyed. Relieved. Triumphant, even. After everything—the cheating ex, the broken toe incident, the frozen mascara tears—I finally have a way out. My old life is just one bush-plane ride away.
But instead of elation, I feel... hollow.
Like someone handed me the prize I thought I wanted, and now I don’t know what to do with it.
The thought of stepping onto that plane tomorrow morning should fill me with comfort and excitement, but all I can think about is the way Gage will look at me when I tell him I'm leaving.
I can see it now. The quiet way his jaw tenses.
The way his hands move a little slower, like he is already bracing for goodbye.
And suddenly, going back doesn’t feel like going home. It feels like walking away from something I wasn’t ready to admit I wanted?
Marnie interrupts my stomach-twisting thoughts. "Will that be all for you today?"
I nod as I buy a few things—snacks for the ride, a raccoon plushie with a bowtie for Patrice, and step outside, only to find a commotion near the loading dock. A crate is tipped over, and a small crowd of older women has gathered.
"It’s stuck under the pallet!" someone yells.
"Poor thing’s scared out of its mind."
I nudge my way to the front of the small crowd, heart still thrumming from the adrenaline of the morning, and freeze when I see the source of all the commotion.
A raccoon, a real one, is wedged tight between a crate and the dock wall, its beady eyes wide with panic and breath puffing in rapid bursts.
He doesn't look injured, just terrified out of his tiny, striped mind.
The poor thing is trembling like I was earlier at the sight of Kyle, and in some strange, poetic way, I feel an odd kinship with this little guy—trapped, cornered, just trying to make sense of where he ended up.
The only difference is I got to walk away.
Before I can think twice, I crouch, wedge myself into the narrow space, and start talking to it."Hey there, little trash panda. It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. I know I smell like pine soap, but I promise I’m friendly."
Someone gasps. "She’s gonna get rabies!"
But I keep going. Inch by inch, I reach in, grab a blanket someone hands me, and gently wrap the trembling creature. It doesn’t bite. It just stares at me like, finally, someone gets me.
I cradle the raccoon like a weird forest baby and stand."Someone call Fish & Game," I say. "Or a Disney prince."
The crowd erupts in applause and laughter.
A teenage girl records me on her phone. Someone else hands me a cookie. A woman claps me on the back and says, "We need more people like you around here."
I… wow.
I spot Gage walking toward me across the street, canvas bags in hand, and my heart does something stupid like leap . He stops short when he sees the crowd around me and what I've got in my arms.
"Why do you have a raccoon?" Gage asks, his voice laced with cautious disbelief, like he’s genuinely trying to figure out if I’ve completely lost my mind in the twenty minutes we’ve been apart.
His eyes flick from me to the trembling ball of fur in my arms, then back again.
"I leave you alone for twenty minutes and you join a Disney movie. "
"I saved it." I say, proud as punch of myself.
He squints, scratches his eyebrow, and lets out a warm, almost disbelieving laugh.
"Of course you did," he says, shaking his head like he should’ve expected nothing less. But there’s something soft in his eyes, something like admiration, as if he’s seeing me in a whole new light and maybe liking the view.
After handing over the raccoon to the wildlife officer, we walk side-by-side back to the snowmobile, and I can feel him watching me. Not in an uncomfortable way. In the ‘ you’re an unexpected wildfire and I don’t know how to look away’ kind of way.
As we approach the snowmobile, I pause, my boots crunching softly against the packed snow. Gage glances down at me, brows lifting in question.
"I saw Kyle today," I say, voice casual but laced with satisfaction.
His posture tenses slightly, eyes narrowing, his hands fist. "Yeah?"
I nod, a smirk tugging at my lips. "He tried to pull the same smug crap. Said I looked rough around the edges. So I told him I might not be Botoxed into oblivion, but at least I wasn’t still clinging to a disappearing hairline."
Gage stares at me for a beat, then lets out a slow whistle. "You didn’t go there. Not the hairline." He winces as he subconsciously runs his hand through his hair, feeling for his own hairline.
"I did. And then I walked away. Latte in hand. Didn’t even look back."
The look that blooms across his face, equal parts pride and heat, makes my stomach do a backflip. He reaches for me, gripping my waist and pulling me in like the whole town isn’t standing just across the street.
"Damn, Tessa. That’s my girl," he murmurs before kissing me deeply, his mouth warm and sure, like he’s sealing the moment with something unspoken but powerful. Like I belong here.
Except I’m not so sure because tomorrow, I’m supposed to leave, and the thought of saying goodbye feels like stepping off the edge of something I’m only just beginning to understand.