Page 20 of The Alpha’s Runaway Mate (Evermore Hollow #1)

SIXTEEN

JESSICA

I drive without a plan, windows down, letting the cool morning air clear my head.

I know Nolan’s not Ethan. I know that in my bones.

It was a low blow and I feel like shit about it.

But sometimes the shadows of the past creep in anyway.

The part of me that spent too long being told what to do still flinches when someone else tries to protect me, even when it comes from love instead of control.

He means well. He always does. But right now, I just need air.

By the time I pull into the downtown square, my frustration’s quieted into something smaller.

The mountain town looks peaceful, storefronts lined with hanging baskets, a few people wandering between shops, the scent of roasted coffee drifting on the breeze.

That’s when I see it, a little bookstore tucked between a coffee shop and a thrift store. The hand-painted sign reads Miller’s Books, the windows cluttered with old hardcovers and mismatched mugs.

It looks like peace. The bell over the door jingles as I step inside. The smell hits me first, paper, coffee, and old wood. Comforting, nostalgic, safe.

“Hey there!” A bright voice calls from behind the counter. A girl about my age, maybe a couple years younger, sits at a desk piled high with receipts and open books. Her brown hair’s in a loose braid, and she’s glaring at a spreadsheet like it personally insulted her.

She looks up with a sigh. “Sorry, I’m fighting for my life with this spreadsheet, and it’s winning.”

I smile. “That bad, huh?”

She groans. “Worse. My uncle owns the place and wants me to ‘modernize the system.’ I think this program has a personal vendetta against me.”

I glance at the screen. “Mind if I take a look?”

Her head pops up, eyes wide with hope. “Please tell me you speak spreadsheet.”

I laugh. “I used to be an accountant in another life. I could do this in my sleep if you need a hand.”

Her face lights up like Christmas morning. “Are you serious? Because I was about five minutes away from crying into my coffee.”

“Completely serious.”

She beams, relief flooding her expression. “You’re officially my hero. I’m Paige, by the way.”

“Jessica.”

“Nice to meet you, Jessica. If you’re not busy saving the world, I could really use the help.”

“At your service,” I bow.

Paige grins at me. “Come on, let me show you the disaster zone then I’ll make you a coffee, what I’m really good at.”

That’s my kind of deal.

An hour later I’ve got her kind of sorted out, but she’s still struggling through it. “You know, my uncle’s been talking about hiring someone part-time to help with the books. The pay isn’t amazing, but it’s something.”

A spark of excitement flickers in my chest. “That actually sounds perfect.”

Paige grins. “Really? You did hear me say the pay isn’t great, right?”

“Sure,” I say with a shrug. “I could use something to keep me busy.”

“Well this will definitely keep you busy. Probably for the next few years,” she says dramatically, making me laugh.

We spend the next few hours side by side, sorting invoices, organizing shelves, laughing over the chaos of the back room. Paige’s energy is bright and infectious. She tells me how her uncle called her a few weeks ago, begging for help with the shop, so she packed up and came here on a whim.

By the time the sun slants low through the windows, we’ve tamed the spreadsheet and cleared two towers of unsorted books.

Paige leans against the counter, stretching her arms above her head. “You have no idea how much you just saved me.”

I laugh. “I don’t know. I kind of enjoyed it. So you saved me too, I was having a shit day before I walked in here.”

“You’re weird,” she says, grinning. “But in a good way. Can you come back tomorrow? Maybe around ten?”

“Sure,” I say easily. “Ten works.”

“Perfect.” She scribbles something on a sticky note. “You’re officially part of the Miller’s Books dream team.”

I hesitate. “Would it be okay if I got paid in cash for now?”

Her brows lift slightly, but she doesn’t ask questions. “Yeah, that’s fine. My uncle keeps a lockbox for the register. We can make it work.”

Relief loosens something in my chest. “Thank you.”

She grins. “Hey, I should be thanking you. You actually made numbers make sense. Well… sort of.”

We exchange numbers before I go, her insisting “in case the spreadsheets try to murder me again.”

“Or if I get lost trying to find this place,” I joke.

She winks. “Don’t worry, I’ll send a rescue team.”

When I finally check my phone, there’s a text waiting from Nolan.

NOLAN: I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to make you feel trapped. Declan showed up at Xander’s. I need to go deal with it. Stay close, please. We’ll talk when I get back.

My stomach flips. Declan.

Paige catches the look on my face. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I say quickly, then hesitate. “It’s my…” The word mate almost slips out. “boyfriend. He had to take care of something.”

She smiles, handing me my bag. “Ah, the mysterious boyfriend. Lucky guy.”

I laugh softly. “Thanks for today, Paige.”

“Anytime. See you tomorrow, ten o’clock.”

Outside, the air’s cooler, clouds rolling in over the ridge. The streetlights hum quietly as the town settles into evening.

I have a job. A friend. A small piece of my life that’s mine again. And somewhere out there, Nolan’s doing what he has to. I just hope he comes back safe.

The drive back to the cabin is calm. The sky’s dipped into that dusky blue between day and night, clouds rolling low over the mountains. The air smells like pine and rain, cool wind brushing my skin through the open window.

By the time I pull into the drive, Nolan’s truck isn’t there. The empty space feels wrong, like the house itself is holding its breath. He said he had to deal with Declan. Whatever that means, it doesn’t sound simple.

The worry flickers, but I push it down. He’s strong and capable. If anyone can handle whatever’s happening out there, it’s him.

Inside, the cabin’s quiet, dim light spilling through the curtains, the faint scent of his soap still lingering. My bag drops onto the table with a soft thud.

I wander into the bathroom and turn the hot water on. The pipes groan, then settle into a steady rush, steam filling the room. My reflection looks softer in the fogged mirror. I look tired, but not broken.

I pour bubble bath into the water and sink into the warmth. The heat seeps into my muscles, loosening everything I’ve been carrying all day. I close my eyes and let the quiet hold me.

The sound of the front door pulls me from the haze. Footsteps. Floorboards creaking. My heart stutters before his voice finds me. “Jess?”

“In here,” I call softly.

A few seconds later, Nolan fills the doorway wearing worn jeans, a dark T-shirt, and his damp hair curling at his temples, exhaustion etched in every line. The sight makes my chest ache. He leans against the door frame. “You okay?”

I nod, watching the corner of his mouth twitch into something like a smile. “Bubble bath, huh?”

“It’s been a long day,” I murmur. “You?”

He exhales, stepping closer until the light catches the gold flecks in his eyes. “Yeah. Long doesn’t even cover it.”

“Declan?”

He nods. “He’s alive. Hurt, confused. Whatever’s been inside him... it’s still there. But he came back on his own. That’s something.”

I sit up a little, water lapping. “And you? Are you okay?”

His gaze softens. Then he crouches beside the tub, resting his arms on his knees. “I am now.”

The words are low, rough, and they do dangerous things to my heartbeat. He traces his fingers lightly through my damp hair. “You smell like vanilla.”

“Better than pine and rain,” I tease softly.

That earns me a quiet laugh. “You got me there.”

“I stopped by a bookstore today,” I tell him, breaking the quiet. “Met a girl named Paige.”

His brow lifts slightly. “Who’s Paige?”

“A new friend,” I say. “She’s running her uncle’s bookshop for the summer. I offered to help with inventory and spreadsheets.”

He studies me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “You took a job?”

I nod, half-defensive. “Part-time. Cash. Nothing big. It just… feels good to be doing something again.”

He exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Good.”

The word takes me off guard. “Good?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “You need something that’s yours. I get that.”

Something eases in my chest that I didn’t realize was still knotted.

We sit there for a moment, me in the tub, him crouched beside me, steam curling between us. The air hums with warmth and unspoken things.

Finally, he says quietly, “I didn’t mean to make you feel trapped earlier. You were right to call me out.”

I shake my head. “I overreacted. It just... hit a nerve.”

He nods. “Yeah. We’ll figure it out.”

I smile faintly. “We always do.”

His fingers brush mine, rough skin against water, and the spark between us hums alive again.

Nolan leans closer, voice low. “You keep taking baths like this, I’m never gonna get any sleep.”

I laugh quietly, heat blooming under my skin. “Are you saying that’s my fault?”

“Pretty sure it is.”

He kisses me, slow, deep, steady, like it’s the only thing that’s kept him upright all day. The world fades, leaving only the sound of water and his heartbeat against my lips.

He lets his hand slide from my hair down to the back of my neck, thumb tracing slow circles. The tension in him is obvious, the kind that comes from carrying too much for too long.

Without a word, he stands and peels off his shirt, the soft sound of fabric mixing with the quiet rush of the shower.

I open my mouth to say something, but the words dissolve when he steps under the water.

Steam curls around him, catching the light on his broad shoulders.

For a moment, it feels like the world outside doesn’t exist. No rogues, no danger, no ghosts from either of our pasts.

Just this, warm water, quiet air, and the space between us finally easing.

I rinse off, climb out, and wrap a towel around myself as steam curls through the room. The water’s still running, his silhouette blurred through the glass.

I change into one of his T-shirts, soft, worn, hanging loose around my thighs, and crawl into bed. The sheets smell like cedar and soap, like him.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not angry. Just tired, the good kind. The kind that follows a day that mattered.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand.

It’s Paige.

A gif of a cartoon woman wrestling a mountain of receipts flashes on-screen, followed by her message:

PAIGE: Thought of you. See you tomorrow, partner in crime ??

I laugh and type back.

ME: You’re a menace. And yes, I’ll be there. Don’t start without me.

Her reply comes almost instantly:

PAIGE: Wouldn’t dream of it. Sweet dreams, accountant extraordinaire.

Smiling, I set the phone down. Through the half-open door, I can still hear the shower running, the quiet thud as Nolan moves around. The sound is steady. Safe.

I curl onto my side, pulling the blanket up. The warmth seeps in, heavy and comforting.

By the time the shower shuts off, my eyes are already closing. The bed dips when he climbs in beside me, his hand sliding over my hip, pulling my back up against his chest.

I drift somewhere between waking and sleep, caught in that soft place where the world feels simple again. I don’t feel like I’m running. I feel like I’m home.