Page 17 of Restored by the Mountain Man (Eden Ridge: Hunter Brothers #3)

EZRA

D riving back to my place, I glance over occasionally as Zoe chatters on, licking her fingers after devouring her first cronut. I’m so fucking proud of her, how she stood up to Tom’s parents, for herself.

Shit. How?

I rub my chest, unable to deny what seems impossible in such a short amount of time. I’m in love with her. Her spirit, her strength, her inner joy, how she loves those who are lucky enough to be in her light. No one else was meant to bring me back to life. It was only her.

I’ll always love Elizabeth. And Rosie. But the peace that settles deep inside when I think about the privilege of loving Zoe for the rest of my days, if she’ll find me worthy to, feels like healing. Freedom. A new purpose.

I park and we head inside. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I lift her for a kiss. Smiling, she kisses me back as I bring us to the kitchen. I set her down, kissing the top of her head, and open the fridge to take out ingredients for dinner later tonight.

“What we having, mountain man?” She hops up on my back to see over my shoulder.

Laughing, I adjust her so she doesn’t fall and continue laying out ingredients.

“I’m thinking, chicken sausage with zucchini, tomatoes, and pasta.” I rinse the heirloom tomatoes in the sink.

“Um, drooling,” Zoe says, leaning further over my shoulder.

I chuckle. “And for appetizers, sourdough, pan toasted with garlic butter, topped with burrata and herbs.”

“Marry me,” she declares, and I laugh, knowing she’s joking, but damn. Some crazy ass part of my brain said, yes, when she demanded it.

My phone vibrates in my back pocket.

“Oh,” Zoe hums. “A little to the left.”

Shaking my head, I ease her off my back and face her, taking my phone out. “Child’s play. I’ll properly warm you up soon,” I grin, then answer, “Hunter.”

“Such a tease,” she whispers, hip-bumping me out of the way as she starts cleaning the zucchini.

“Mr. Hunter, sorry to call,” Gus says.

“Never a problem. Everything alright?”

Gus’s voice comes through strained. “One of the main mash pumps broke down, so they can’t transfer between the vessels from yesterday’s batch.”

“Shit. I’ll be right there. Nash left for the day?”

“Yes, Mr. Hunter. I didn’t want to wait till tomorrow,” he starts.

“Definitely not. We don’t want to risk spillage. Thank you for calling. Always call, got it, Gus?”

“Yes, sir. You got it. See you soon,” Gus says before we hang up.

“Spillage? One of the pumps?” Zoe asks, her hip leaning against the sink.

“Yeah, I need to shut it down and make sure there aren’t any leaks already, then look around to see what the core of the problem is.” I pull her hips to me. “Sorry, Sweet Cheeks, this might take me an hour or two.”

“That’s okay, handsome. I can get started on prepping some of this and make myself a light lunch.”

I wrap my arms tighter around her. “You know what might be nice?”

She places her arms around my neck, bringing us chest to chest. “What’s that, Mr. Hunter?”

“A nice, hot bubble bath to soothe your muscles. You deserve it.” I lean down and kiss her.

Zoe tilts her head, and we both take the kiss deeper. This wild desire is new, and I’m leaning into it wholeheartedly. But it’s more than just lust. There’s this effortless underlying trust, intimacy, and genuine care that makes every touch feel bigger.

I’ve watched some of my brothers fall in the last year, and I thought the speed at which they fell was a bit impractical and, logically, impossible.

But I can’t deny every time I see them with the women who healed them back together and love my brothers everyday fiercely, that what they have is real.

I think I get it now.

I prepare Zoe’s bath before I head to the distillery.

Walking in, the team is full force on the matter while everything else runs smoothly around us.

Turns out the bearings on this one was shot.

I spend the next hour working with Gus to pull the pump apart, replace the bearings, and re-lubricate before we start it back up.

I clean off my hands with a towel when Nash walks in.

“Convenient for you to show after the problem gets resolved,” I joke, grinning at my older brother.

“All part of my strategy, little bro. The Master Distiller only needs to appear working,” he jests back, but we both know he works harder than everyone here combined. “Everything okay with the mash pump?”

“It is now.” I update him as we walk to my office. In my ensuite, I clean up while Nash waits on the couch.

I leave the bathroom and stop in my tracks when he says, “You’re whistling.”

“Pardon?”

A slow smile grows before he laughs. “Holy shit. Zoe’s a witch. A good one. I should send her one of our legend bottles as a gift.”

“Fucker,” I mumble with no heat, logging in notes from today in my computer.

“Ezra,” he calls.

“What?”

“Seeing you broken these three years, broke something in me.”

I look up, not expecting where the conversation suddenly goes. My heart’s in a fist watching the pain my brother gives me for a moment. Pain he’s carried watching me walk this facility, but not living.

“Nash,” my voice is thick, emotion on the surface.

He shakes his head. “All that to say, the man who walked in here today has blood in his veins, color under his skin, hope in his eyes again. I fucking missed you.”

It’s too much and hits hard. I squeeze the bridge of my nose, which stings with tears. Without realizing he stands up, Nash wraps his arm around my chest from behind my chair, squeezing tight, his face resting on my head.

“Damn proud of you for facing those demons,” he says, keeping his voice low, the natural gravel sounding thicker with his emotion. “And I mean demons. What haunted you wasn’t Liz anymore. She’s at peace. The purest light surrounds her. You needed to let go of the misguided guilt.”

I nod, still pinching my nose bridge, breathing through it.

“And if Zoe is the lucky one who–,”

“I’m the lucky one,” I interrupt him.

Nash pulls back, giving me a second. Once I have it together, I turn in my chair and face him.

Leaning on the wall, arms crossed, he continues. “Both of you are. Shit,” he chuckles. “Another Hunter brother. I’m gonna stop drinking the water here.”

We both laugh, and it feels good. I haven’t laughed with my brothers in years. Which makes me think, I can’t wait for this weekend’s Sunday dinner. I want to walk in there a new man. And I want to do it with Zoe on my arm.

Driving home, the anticipation has built. Two hours away from her, and my soul is already climbing walls. Entering the front door, I toss my keys on the side table, removing my boots.

“Zoe,” I call out. “Are you still wrinkling in the tub?” I smile, already imagining all the ways I can tease her before carrying her dripping body back to bed. Dinner can wait.

“Zo?” I head upstairs but don’t find her there.

My gut twists, and I can’t make out why. Down the hall are two other rooms. The empty room that was set up for Rosie four years ago and…the room I’ve kept closed for the last three.

Only from here, I can see it is most definitely open.

“No,” I whisper, wishing I could turn back time to just ten minutes ago.

A force has my steps leading to that room. A room I’ve grown numb to its existence. I’ve happily forgotten it's an additional space in the house. I’ve never had cause to pass by both Rosie’s old nursery and Liz’s craft room.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whisper. My legs grow heavy. “Please don’t be in there.”

On the floor, sitting criss-crossed is Zoe, filtering through one of Liz’s sketchbooks.

And something dark takes over. I can’t even explain the instant fury.

I just know the walls close in, seeing all of Liz’s stuff.

The color bomb of items and half-done projects that only remind me how she’ll never get to finish them now.

“The fuck are you doing?” my voice croaks, my body firmly standing just outside the door.

Startled, Zoe turns. “Oh my God, Ez, you scared me. I called out when you first came in. You didn’t hear me?”

I see her, but I also don’t. “I asked you a question.”

See finally clocks the shift. Slowly, she places the book down and stands. Cautiously, like approaching a bear, she watches for every expression.

“Ezra? Talk to me.”

“This door,” I point to it, “was closed. Firmly closed. Why the fuck did you think it was your place to open it?”

Her eyes flash with anger, but she’s a better person than me and reigns it in. She’s in control, but in this moment, I’m not.

“I didn’t know it was off-limits,” she says, and though logical, my brain won’t comprehend.

I shake my head. “Get out.”

“Excuse me?” I ignore her pain. No, I pretend to because that stricken look is like a deep cut that almost doubles me over.

“You had no right,” I yell, and finally, for the first time in three years, I enter the room.

“You can’t be here. You’re not supposed to be here,” I bark, grabbing the sketchbook from the floor, and touching it feels like touching livewire. Needing it off my skin, I throw it across the opposite end of the room. “This is hers. It’s all hers.”

“Ezra, you need to calm down. And careful with how you talk to me,” Zoe demands, keeping space between us.

“You can’t be here. Get out,” I grunt.

And I mean the room. Not the house, but I can see she takes it that way and I damn my mouth for not clarifying.

Her eyes well up but the stubbornness in her won’t allow the tears to fall. “You know what, Ezra, fuck you. I was stupid to believe you were ready for love,” she solemnly says, shaking her head.

My eyes fill with tears and the new Ezra inside screams at the old one who’s taken over, demanding he take that woman in his arms and apologize. But he won’t listen. He’s frozen in time.

“My father has a saying and I never understood it until now. But I guess he’s been right all along.

Cause where bones aren’t provided, dogs aren’t invited.

But I’d be damned if I stay here and allow you to treat me like the bitch who broke her way into your heart.

So, I’m leaving,” she says, turning and walking out of the room.

My foot takes a step in her direction, but stays trapped in this room. Her feet rush down the stairs, the front doors slams, her rental car Laurel dropped off earlier today revs up and peels out of my driveway.

My knees buckle, hitting the wooden floor.

I welcome the bone deep pain as I look around this room.

The room I’d sneak into when she was deep in her creative project and kiss her neck, or surprise her with lunch because she’d always forget to eat.

I lean back letting tears fall as I take in the time capsule I created.

But my tears aren’t for the past. They’re more for the two hearts I just broke. Mine can be damned. Always has been. But hers, she deserves the world. And I just fucking proved I’m not worthy of Zoe Diaz.

The room is shadows that play with my psyche as I sit here still two hours later. The sun set and I haven’t been able to move. I’m crippled with regret, playing the moment over and over.

I thought I was good. I thought things were finally different. And hell, they were. I am different, damn it. Keeping this room closed and not facing it all this time, I didn’t realize what a trigger it would be. And it was my own doing.

I pull my hair, groaning, needing to do something. She didn’t deserve that, my goddess Zoe. Never will I forgive myself for raising my voice at her. That is not who I am. That is not who I have ever been. And I will not be that man.

If I’ve lost her, if she can’t forgive me…

I beat my chest to push out the pain. I’ll have to accept it. She should never compromise. But I have to figure out a way to apologize. Even if it’s all she’ll take of me now.

I pull out my phone, find the contact, and hit Call.

On the third ring, it picks up.

Gripping the front of my hair, my voice breaks from tears. “Nash,” I clear my throat. “I fucked up. I fucked up, bro.”