Page 17 of Stitch & Steel

Seventeen

BELLA

The morning air was crisp, still damp from the night’s dew.

Scout bounded ahead of me on the trail, tail wagging like a metronome set to chaos.

The sun had just crested the ridge, setting the trees aglow in soft gold, and for a moment, everything felt peaceful.

Like maybe the world hadn’t gone to hell.

Like maybe we were safe up here, just the three of us.

I tossed a pinecone down the slope and laughed as Scout chased after it like a missile. He came back proudly, drooling and panting, then dropped it at my feet like he expected a trophy.

“Not a retriever, huh?” I teased, scratching behind his ears. “Don’t tell Logan.”

We walked the long loop around the back edge of the property, the same one Gran used to hike before her knees got bad.

I kept glancing toward the trees, half-expecting Logan to appear like he had before, stepping through the brush with a crooked smile and some sarcastic line that made me blush harder than I should.

By the time Scout and I made it back to the cabin, I was expecting the smell of percolating coffee. I pushed the screen door open and stepped inside, sweat clinging to my neck from the hike.

That’s when I saw the note.

It sat on the counter, perched next to her half-drunk coffee mug. Her phone still sat plugged in on the charger.

“Ran into town. Be back before lunch. —Love, G.”

My stomach dropped.

She hadn’t taken her phone.

She always took her phone—even if she never used the damn thing. I touched the screen. It lit up. No new messages. No calls.

“Gran?” I called out, moving through the cabin like she might answer from the bathroom or the back porch.

Nothing.

I checked the driveway.

Her car was gone.

Scout stood by the door, ears alert, tail rigid.

“She’ll be back soon,” I muttered to myself. “She probably just forgot the time.”

But an hour passed. Then another.

And another.

By noon, I was pacing the floor and Scout was whining at the door. I grabbed the car keys and we drove into town, tires spitting gravel. Every bump in the road made my hands tighter on the wheel.

The grocery store hadn’t seen her. Neither had the café or the library.

I checked the park. The post office. I even circled the tiny church twice.

Nothing.

No car. No Gran.

I sat in the driver’s seat outside the general store, chest tight, vision starting to blur. Scout whined again from the back seat, and I finally gave in—pulled out my phone and dialed the one person I knew would come running.

JD answered on the first ring. “Bella?”

“She’s gone,” I choked out. “Gran. She went into town and never came back. Her phone’s still on the charger. I’ve checked everywhere, JD. I don’t know what to do.”

I heard rustling. The sound of boots on concrete. Then JD’s voice again, hard and sure.

“Where are you now?”

“Still in town. Just parked by the general store.”

“I’m six hours out. But I’m on my way.”

“Six—” My voice cracked. “JD, you’ve been working nonstop, you said?—”

“I don’t give a shit,” he growled. “She’s one of ours. You stay put. I’ll call my boys. We’ll get eyes on the whole damn mountain. I’ll find her, Bella. I swear to God.”

The line went dead before I could even say thank you.

I looked over at Scout, who laid his head on the console, ears perked toward me like he could feel my fear.

I wrapped my arms around him, buried my face in his fur, and whispered, “Please let her be okay.”

Because this wasn’t just about Gran anymore.

This was war. And I wasn’t sure if it was the kind that came from memory loss… or enemies circling the mountain again.