Page 18 of Restored by the Mountain Man (Eden Ridge: Hunter Brothers #3)

ZOE

I 've been driving aimlessly through the winding mountain roads for two hours, tears streaming down my face as the sun sets behind the peaks. My hands shake on the steering wheel, and I have to pull over twice just to catch my breath.

The look on Ezra's face when he found me in that room keeps replaying in my mind. The fury, the way his voice turned cold and foreign. Like I was a stranger who had violated something sacred.

Maybe I was.

I should have known better than to open a closed door in his house.

Should have respected his boundaries. But I'd been so comfortable, so at home there after the night we shared.

When I'd finished my bath and wandered the hall looking for him, I'd seen the door slightly ajar and thought nothing of exploring.

The room had been beautiful. Clearly a craft space with half-finished projects scattered around, art supplies organized in colorful containers, sketches pinned to a corkboard.

It felt warm and creative and alive, and I'd been drawn to the sketchbooks, curious about the artist who had created such a welcoming space.

Then I'd opened one of the books and seen the signature. Elizabeth Hunter. And my heart had stopped.

I'd been sitting there, carefully looking through her drawings when Ezra came home. Her work was beautiful. They had delicate watercolors of mountain landscapes, sketches of what looked like nursery ideas and pages upon pages of baby clothes designs and tiny shoes.

The woman had been preparing for motherhood with such joy, such anticipation. Every stroke of her pencil radiated love for the child she was carrying.

And then Ezra had found me there, surrounded by the dreams that died with his wife and daughter.

No wonder he lost it. No wonder he looked at me like I was the enemy.

But the way he spoke to me, the coldness in his voice when he told me to get out... That's what breaks my heart. Because for a moment, I wasn't Zoe anymore. I was just another person who had disappointed him, another source of pain in a life already full of it.

My phone buzzes on the passenger seat, and I glance at it through blurry eyes. Nash's name appears on the screen, but I let it go to voicemail. I can't talk to any of the Hunters right now. Can't pretend that everything is okay when my world just imploded.

The phone buzzes again. This time it's Asher. Then West. Then back to Nash.

They know. Somehow, they know what happened, and they're trying to reach me. But I'm not ready. I need space to process this, to figure out how to move forward.

I need Laurel.

With shaking fingers, I dial her number.

"Hey, beautiful!" Her cheerful voice is like a lifeline. "How's your sexy mountain man treating you? Please tell me you're calling from his bed with that post-orgasmic glow."

The concern in her voice when I don't respond immediately is instant. "Zoe? What's wrong?"

"I need you," I whisper, my voice breaking. "Can you come to the cabin? I know it's late, but?—"

"I'm already grabbing my keys," she interrupts. "Are you hurt? Do I need to call someone?"

"No, I'm not hurt. Not physically. I just... I really need my best friend right now."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes. Are Tom's parents gone?"

"I don't know. I haven't been back to the cabin yet. I've been driving around since—," my voice cracks again.

"Since what, honey? What happened?"

"Ezra and I had a fight. A bad one. And I think... I think it's over."

The silence on the other end stretches for a moment before Laurel's voice comes back, deadly calm. "What did he do?"

"I'll explain when you get there. Can you just... can you check if the cabin is empty? I can't face them right now if they're still there."

"Already texting Grayson to find out. Head back, babe. I'm coming. I’ll meet you there."

Twenty minutes later, I pull into the cabin's driveway at the same time Laurel's car comes around the bend. She's out of her vehicle before I even turn off the engine, and I fall into her arms the moment my feet hit the gravel.

"They're gone," she says immediately, rubbing my back as I sob into her shoulder. "Grayson confirmed they left town this afternoon. It's just us, babe."

I let her guide me into the cabin, noting the absence of Tom's parents' belongings with relief. Whatever else has gone wrong today, at least I don't have to deal with that particular drama.

Laurel settles me on the couch and disappears into the kitchen, returning with a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, two spoons, and a box from Sweet Pines Bakery.

"Emergency supplies," she announces, sitting beside me and opening the ice cream. "I may have made a pit stop on my way here. Now tell me what that asshole did to make you cry like this."

Between bites of ice cream and tears, I tell her everything.

The perfect night we shared, the way he made me feel cherished and desired.

The confrontation with Tom's parents and how Ezra stood by me.

The sweet gesture of buying me cronuts and the vulnerable conversation about children and our future.

"It sounds like everything was going perfectly," Laurel says, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What changed?"

I take a shaky breath and explain about the craft room, about finding Elizabeth's sketchbooks, and the explosion that followed.

"He told me to get out," I finish miserably. "It wasn’t just the words but the way he said it... it felt like he meant everything. Like I was nothing to him."

Laurel is quiet for a long moment, processing what I've told her. Then she sets down her spoon and turns to face me fully.

"Zoe Esmeralda Diaz," she says, using my full name like she did when we were kids and she was about to lecture me. "You are not stupid for opening your heart to that man."

"But I should have known better than to go into that room. I should have respected?—"

"Stop." She holds up a hand. "Yes, maybe you should have asked before exploring. But you weren't being malicious or disrespectful. You were being curious in what you thought was your boyfriend's house. A house where you'd spent the night, where he'd made you feel welcome and wanted."

She reaches for my hands. "Ezra is the dick here. He's the one who let his grief turn him into a monster. He's the one who hurt the woman he supposedly cares about instead of talking through his feelings like an adult."

"Laurel—"

"No, I'm not done." Her eyes flash with protective fury. "You opened your heart to him. You shared your body with him, your fears, your dreams. You stood up to Tom's parents for him, for your future together. And how does he repay you? By screaming at you like you're some kind of intruder."

She stands up and starts pacing, her anger building. "I'm going to make his life hell. I'm going to make sure every batch of whiskey he makes for the next year tastes like piss."

"Don't," I say quietly. "Please don't make this about revenge."

She stops pacing and looks at me with surprise. "Zoe, he hurt you. He made you cry. I'm supposed to hate him on principle."

"But you won't," I say, understanding flooding through me. "Because despite everything, despite how much he hurt me, I still love him."

Laurel’s expression softens.

"Oh, honey," Laurel whispers, sitting back down and pulling me into a hug. "You really love him."

"I do," I sob into her shoulder. "I love him so much it hurts. And I understand why he reacted the way he did. Finding me in Elizabeth's space, surrounded by her things... it must have felt like a betrayal of her memory."

"Understanding his reaction doesn't excuse how he treated you," Laurel says firmly. "Love doesn't mean accepting abuse, even if it comes from a place of pain."

"I know. And I won't. But I also can't just turn off my feelings because he had one terrible moment."

Laurel pulls back to look at me. "So what do you want to do?"

"I don't know," I admit. "Part of me wants to drive back there and demand he talk to me like a rational adult. Part of me wants to pack my things and go back to Portland. And part of me just wants to hide here and eat ice cream until the pain goes away."

"Option three sounds pretty appealing right now," Laurel says, offering me another spoonful of ice cream. "But it's not really a long-term solution."

I manage a weak laugh. "No, probably not."

"Come on," she says, grabbing the remote. "Let's watch something completely mindless and romantic while we eat our feelings. Tomorrow we can figure out whether Ezra Hunter deserves another chance or if we're shopping for moving boxes."

We settle on a ridiculous romantic comedy about a woman who inherits a Christmas tree farm and falls in love with the grumpy neighbor who's trying to buy her land.

It's exactly the kind of formulaic sweetness we need right now, and I feel some of the tension leave my shoulders as I get lost in someone else's happily ever after.

We're halfway through the movie, debating whether the male lead is more attractive than any of the Hunters when there's a knock at the door.

"Expecting someone?" Laurel asks, pausing the movie.

"No." My heart starts pounding. "What if Tom's parents came back?"

"I'll handle it," Laurel says, standing and moving toward the door. "You stay put."

I hear her open the door then hear an immediate "Oh hell no," followed by the sound of the door slamming shut.

"Laurel, please," a familiar voice says, and my breath catches. "I need to talk to her."

Ezra.

"You need to get the hell off this porch before I call Grayson to come remove you," Laurel snaps. "You've done enough damage for one day."

"I know I fucked up," Ezra's voice is rough, desperate. "I know I hurt her, and I hate myself for it. But please, just give me five minutes to apologize. To explain."

"You had your chance to explain when you were screaming at her in your house," Laurel retorts. "Instead, you chose to be a complete ass."

"Laurel," I call from the couch, my voice barely steady. "It's okay. Let him in."