Page 17 of The Alpha’s Runaway Mate (Evermore Hollow #1)

THIRTEEN

JESSICA

I finish putting my clothes away, sliding the last folded shirt into the space I made in his dresser drawer. My fingers linger on the edge of the wood. It’s a simple, domestic thing, strange and tender all at once. Like I’ve stepped into a life I don’t fully understand yet.

The bed’s neatly made, morning sunlight spilling across it in wide gold bands. I smooth my palm over the blanket and, for a heartbeat, swear I can still feel him there.

It’s too soon for any of this to feel real. Too soon for my chest to ache at the thought of him not coming back. But it does.

With the laundry done and the house too quiet, I start to wander.

His home is solid and steady, like him, wood, leather, clean lines. No wasted space. No clutter. Everything has a purpose. In the living room, a small bookshelf sits near the window: dog-eared paperbacks, history, survival, a few old westerns, and a row of framed photos on top.

The first one I recognize immediately is Kolt and Xander flanking Nolan, all three of them grinning like they actually know how to relax. I met them last night at Snarl; even in a few minutes I saw it, the easy rhythm of brothers who’ve been through hell together and stayed standing.

Another photo shows the three of them with two older people, a woman with Nolan’s dark hair and a man with the same sharp jaw. His parents, probably. They look happy. Whole. Nolan looks younger too, no shadows behind his eyes, just sunshine and easy laughter.

My chest tightens. There’s something sacred about seeing him like that, proof of a life before this, before me, before the pain he never talks about.

It makes me feel like an intruder. What am I doing in his space, pretending I belong?

I trace the edge of the frame, guilt twisting low.

Because the truth is, I might be bringing trouble right to his doorstep.

Ethan doesn’t stop. Not when he wants something. And he wants control, always has. The thought alone makes my throat close. I can still feel the phantom press of his hands, hear the venom in his voice when he promised I’d never get away.

I did. But for how long? When he finally finds me, do I run again? Pack a bag and disappear before Nolan, or anyone, gets hurt?

The idea makes my chest ache so deep it hurts to breathe.

Leaving him, leaving this place, feels impossible, like tearing out something I didn’t know I needed until I found it.

Maybe that’s the craziest part, that it’s only been days, but every second near him feels like something my soul recognizes.

He called me his mate. I know that word isn’t casual.

But I don’t know what it means, not really.

I can feel the connection even now, with him miles away, like a hum under my skin, a pull I can’t shake.

Comforting and terrifying at the same time.

If he’s serious about that word, I need to understand it.

All of it. And if I’m serious about staying, about not running again, I have to tell him about Ethan. Before it’s too late.

By afternoon, the house starts to feel too small for all the thoughts spinning through my head.

I drift into the kitchen and open the fridge, mostly to give my hands a job.

It’s practical and sparse, milk, beer, eggs, a takeout box on its last day.

The freezer holds venison and frozen vegetables; the pantry’s a patchwork of cans and dry goods.

My mom used to say you can tell a lot about a man by his kitchen. Nolan’s says he’s used to feeding everyone but himself.

I pull what I can find, venison, onions, carrots, potatoes, and start chopping.

Cooking helps. It’s something I can control.

Before long, herbs and roasting meat fill the cabin, and the tension clawing at my ribs starts to ease.

I hum under my breath, moving through his kitchen like I’ve done it a hundred times.

An old cast-iron pan hides in a cabinet; I use it for biscuits.

By the time I’m done, the stew is thick and bubbling, the biscuits golden, the counters wiped clean. The sun dips behind the ridge, streaking the sky with fire. That’s when I hear it, the low, familiar rumble of his truck on the drive.

My heart kicks, fast and unsteady. The front door opens and there he is, tall, broad, a little rough around the edges. Damp hair, sweat-dark shirt, eyes shadowed with exhaustion and something heavier. “Hey,” I say softly, turning from the stove. “Perfect timing.”

He closes the door and looks at me like he’s grounding himself in the sight.

Then he steps forward, wraps an arm around my waist, and presses a kiss to the side of my head.

Such a small thing, but it melts something inside me.

“Smells incredible,” he murmurs against my hair, voice low and rough. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

He pulls back, gives me a tired half-smile. “You spoil me.”

“You look like you need it.”

He huffs a laugh. “I’m gonna take a quick shower. Be right back.”

I nod, and he brushes a hand along my arm before heading down the hall.

By the time he returns, the cabin glows with dusk. I’ve set the table, bowls, cloth napkins from a drawer, two candles flickering low. The stew steams; the biscuits cool on a plate between us.

Nolan walks in wearing a clean black T-shirt and dark jeans, hair damp, smelling faintly of soap and cedar. He looks… good. Too good.

His mouth curves when he sees the table. “I could smell it from the bedroom.”

I grin over my shoulder. “Good smell or bad smell?”

He steps closer, voice dropping a little. “Good. Dangerous, actually.”

“Dinner’s dangerous now?”

He smirks, eyes warm. “You. My house. Real food. Feels a little like I’m dreaming.”

“Maybe you’re just tired.”

“Maybe.” He reaches for the pot and a serving spoon. “Or maybe you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

My heart stumbles. I try to play it off, but my voice comes out softer than I mean. “Careful saying things like that, I might start believing you.”

He chuckles, grabs two beers from the fridge, sets them on the table. When we sit, it feels… easy. Comfortable. Like we’ve done this before.

He takes a bite, then groans quietly. “Okay. You’re officially not allowed to leave.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Guess you’ll have to keep giving me reasons to stay.”

He lifts his gaze, something warm and sure, and a little dangerous, in it. “Oh, I plan to.”

The air shifts. It always does. We eat for a while in the kind of silence that feels safe. When I glance up, his expression’s different, thoughtful, focused.

“You were gone a long time,” I say gently.

He nods, takes a drink. “Yeah. Things got complicated.”

“Everything okay?”

His jaw works before he answers. “For now. We’ll talk after we eat.”

The words send a ripple of nerves down my spine. “Talk about what?”

“About everything,” he says, steady and serious.

My pulse trips. I nod and pretend to focus on my food, but my mind is already racing. I know exactly what he means.

We fall into an easy rhythm, him rinsing, me washing, shoulders bumping now and then. Every small brush of contact sends warmth darting through my chest. A low country song hums from his phone. The whole thing feels almost too normal. Too perfect.

When the last dish is set to dry, Nolan grabs two fresh beers and nods toward the door. “Come on. I want some air.”

Evening is cool, the kind of mountain night that smells like pine and rain.

The porch wraps around the cabin, wide and sturdy, with an old swing tucked in the corner.

I curl up on one end while he settles beside me, arm draped along the back rail.

Fireflies blink over the yard; somewhere in the trees, an owl calls.

We sit, listening to the night breathe.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he says.

The air shifts and I turn. “Okay.”

He takes a slow sip, sets the bottle on the railing. “You remember Kolt and Xander?”

“Your brothers,” I say, nodding. “Of course.”

“They got back last night. They’d been gone a few weeks looking for someone, Declan. He’s our cousin, we actually grew up with him.” He hesitates, jaw tight. “We’re not sure about him anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

He looks toward the treeline. “Declan was family. Something happened to him while he was gone, old magic, ugly. It twisted him. My brothers found him, but he slipped away before they could bring him home. This morning, one of my men was attacked near the boundary line. Same scent. Same energy. Whatever did it was Declan, or tied to whatever’s controlling him. ”

The words land heavy. “So that’s what you were doing today,” I whisper.

He nods. “We’re hunting something that used to be ours. If it’s still him…” His voice roughens. “If it’s still him, I’ll bring him home. If it’s not, I’ll end it before it hurts anyone else.”

I don’t know what to say, so I slide my hand over his. His fingers tighten around mine, like the contact steadies him. “I’m sorry,” I say softly.

He shakes his head. “Don’t be. Just… you needed to know what’s out there. If anything feels off, if you smell something strange, hear something, anything, you call me. Promise.”

“I promise.”

He nods once, tension still humming under his skin. “I’ll be right back.”

He disappears inside. A minute later, the door opens again. He steps out with something small in his hand and holds it out. A phone. “I got this for you today.”

I blink. “A phone?”

“Yeah.” He sits beside me, turns the screen so it glows. “My number’s saved, along with Kolt’s, Xander’s, and a few pack members I trust with your life.”

“Nolan…” My heart tightens. “I can’t take that. It’s too much.”

“It’s not.” His brow knits, like the idea doesn’t compute.

“It is.” I fold my arms lightly, trying not to sound ungrateful. “You’ve already done so much, place to stay, food, safety. I don’t want to take advantage, ”

He takes my hand, firm but gentle, and sets the phone in it, fingers closing over mine until I meet his gaze.

“You can,” he says quietly. “And you will. I need to reach you, especially with all this fucked-up shit going on. If I can’t get to you immediately, I need to know you’re okay.”

Something raw in his voice scrapes right against my chest. He isn’t asking, he’s protecting.

I swallow. “You really thought of everything.”

He gives a small, almost sheepish shrug. “Trying to.”

I run my thumb along the case, the screen lights up again. “If I hit call, who answers first, Alpha or Nolan?”

A ghost of a smile. “Same guy. One’s just rougher around the edges.”

I tuck the phone into my pocket. “Thank you.”

His gaze softens. “You’re welcome.”

We sit in the hum of crickets and unsaid things until I take a breath that feels heavier than the air around us. “There’s something I need to tell you too.”

His expression shifts instantly, alert, gentle, ready. “All right.”

“You know I’ve been running from someone, it’s my ex-fiancé.”

He goes very still.

“His name’s Ethan.” The word tastes like rust. “At first he was perfect, kind, funny, protective, until he wasn’t.

It started small, what I wore, who I talked to, and then it wasn’t small.

He checked my phone, controlled my money.

Then came the yelling. The shoving. By the time I understood what he was, it was too late.

He had everything, my passwords, my accounts, my car. Every exit, he’d already mapped out.”

Nolan says nothing. His fist tightens on his knee, his knuckles go white.

“When I finally got out, I took what fit in a backpack and my purse. I ditched my phone and anything he could use to track me. Bought an old beater truck with cash, no GPS, no paper trail. I’ve been moving from small town to small town ever since, never staying long enough to make a pattern.

” I swallow. “He still found me. Twice. Once in Georgia and once in Tennessee. I don’t even know how.

I changed my name at one job, stayed off social media, paid cash for everything… and he still found me.”

Silence settles, heavy as the dark.

“He hasn’t found me here,” I whisper. “Not yet anyway. It’s only been seven months since I left, and if he does…come for me,” My throat tightens. “I’ll have to leave. I can’t drag that danger to you, or your pack. I couldn’t live with myself if anyone got hurt because of me.”

“Stop.” The word lands low and sharp, more command than sound.

When I look up, his eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them, edges lit faintly gold. Something wild and powerful looks out through the calm.

“You’re not leaving,” he says.

“Nolan.”

“No.” His palm cups my cheek, rough hand unbearably gentle. “You’re not running anymore. If he comes here, he deals with me. With us.”

Tears threaten, but I force a weak laugh. “You don’t know what he’s like. He’s smart. He plans everything. He’ll…”

“He’ll plan his own damn funeral is what’ll happen,” he says, a growl wrapped in tenderness. “Because if he shows his face anywhere near you, I’ll end him.”

I stare, caught between awe, fear, and a deep, bone-level sense of safe.

He exhales, softening the edges. “You’re safe here, Jess. I won’t let anything touch you.”

“You can’t promise that,” I whisper.

“I can.” His thumb traces my jaw. “And I just did.”

My chest tightens. “Why would you do all this for me?”

“Because my bear’s already in love with you.”

The breath catches in my throat.

“You’re ours,” he says, voice low and sure. “Every second I spend with you, it pulls me in deeper. It’s not just instinct anymore, it’s you. All of you. And I’m not letting anything take that away.”

“You barely know me,” I whisper.

“I know enough.” He leans forward, resting his forehead against mine. “You’re strong. You survived hell and kept going. Every time you smile, it feels like sunlight after a storm. That’s enough for me to know I’ll spend the rest of my long life loving you.”

I breathe him in, soap, cedar, warmth. “I don’t want to run anymore.”

“Good.” His thumb brushes my lower lip. “Because you’re not going to.”

We sit on the porch while the stars sharpen overhead, the night wrapped tight around us. The tension coiled in me for months finally starts to ease. I shift closer until my shoulder brushes his.

“So what now?” I murmur.

“Now we deal with both kinds of trouble, mine and yours.” His voice gentles. “Together.”

Neither of us moves for a long time. The world feels smaller here, safer, like the darkness can’t quite reach the porch. He slides an arm around me and I rest my head on his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat steady under my cheek.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. But tonight, with his promise in the air and the phone warm in my pocket, I believe him. I’m not running anymore.