Page 13 of The Cinnamon Spice Inn (Maple Falls #1)

TEN

ZACH

The Cinnamon Spice Inn’s honeymoon cabin looked out across Bear Lake, and it was the coziest place.

Almost like something you’d stumble across in a fairy tale.

Surrounded by trees, its wooden roof was now coated in red and gold leaves.

Zach could hear the water lapping as he walked up to it, the crunch of acorns and dry leaves under his feet.

Something chattered up in the trees, a squirrel perhaps, and the soft smell of rain and damp earth lingered.

The air had a gentle bite to it, the breeze a whisper.

The cabin was only a short walk from the inn, and it had been a getaway spot for Madison and Zach when they were young lovers.

It was imprinted with memories, of nights talking out under the stars, of skinny-dipping in the moonlight.

Of burning hot night after night, devouring each other in uncontrollable ecstasy.

Zach hadn’t been here for years, not since Madison left.

He took a deep breath, his chest strangely tight.

Slowly, he opened the creaking door, half expecting to see her there with his younger self.

She’d be wearing his flannel shirt, and nothing else.

Her hands clutched around the coffee he’d just made for her.

She’d take a slow sip, and smile at him like there was nobody else in the world, just the two of them, and that was enough.

But there was nobody here. Just Zach and his memories. And it looked like nobody had been inside the cabin for years. The disrepair was way worse than he had expected.

Zach sighed, dropped his duffel by the door with a heavy thud and surveyed the space, distracting himself from his thoughts about Madison by cataloging the work that needed to be done.

It was one room, with a small kitchenette and a four-poster bed pushed against the wall.

The bathroom was tiny, but the water worked.

The knotty pine ceiling had started to separate, allowing water to seep through and drip onto the hardwood floors, which probably meant the roof needed replacing, too.

There were broken windows, a dripping faucet, the faint scent of mildew.

Even the hearthstone on the fireplace had cracked clean down the middle, causing the entire mantel to pitch into a crooked V.

He’d have to reseal the roof, caulk the seams, maybe tear half the place apart.

He’d need to go back into town shortly to get some more materials.

It would take a bit of time, but still, he could make it livable. He could make it look like it once did.

The place where he knew he’d fallen in love and nothing would ever be the same again.

Zach’s eyes landed on the windowsill. That was the spot where he and Madison had carved their initials all those years ago. He forced himself to stay rooted to the spot. To not go over and trace the indent, relive the moment.

He couldn’t help it. His mind pulled him back to the last time they’d stayed here. They were celebrating and he’d brought a bottle of champagne, the expensive kind, which was saying something, considering he and Liam had been splitting rent on a crappy two-bedroom apartment.

Madison’s New York internship was only supposed to be for the summer, after all.

And hell, he was proud of her, so proud.

He knew she had big dreams of travelling the world and launching her career in the culinary world.

But he also knew she loved Maple Falls as much as he did, and it seemed impossible to him that she wouldn’t soon find her way back here.

She was brilliant, she was full of ideas and creativity and worked harder than anyone.

She just needed to spread her wings for a bit, and then she’d be able to build her perfect life here. With him.

So, they celebrated her internship thinking she’d soon be back.

They’d spent it paddleboarding on Bear Lake with Liam, Jackson, Emily, and some other friends, then headed back to the inn for a cookout.

They’d all felt so young, so free, the world full of endless possibilities.

It was a summer that seemed like it would stretch out into forever.

Zach grinned, remembering how badly George had burned the hot dogs. Flames had shot out the bottom of the grill. He hadn’t even known they could do that. Meredith had nearly called the fire department before Edith doused the whole thing with a bucket of water.

They’d ordered pizzas after that, eaten them around the campfire. Followed by s’mores, cold beer, and plenty of laughs.

It wasn’t until later, much later, when the sky was dancing with shooting stars and the slice of silver moon was high in the sky, that they’d found a moment to sneak away.

Madison had popped the champagne, the cork flying across the room with a satisfying THUMP .

She’d then tipped the bottle right to her lips to keep it from spraying everywhere.

Zach smiled, recalling the memory.

He had quickly run over with coffee mugs from the cupboard, and she’d poured two oversized toasts.

“To the future,” he’d said.

“To us,” Madison had replied.

They’d clinked their glasses, kissed, and Zach had felt so ridiculously happy.

He’d then lit a fire while Madison put on some music.

They’d danced together, right in the center of the room.

Zach’s eyes landed on the spot as if it were yesterday.

The warmth from the fire. The softness of her curves, the way she’d leaned into him.

The love, fierce and loyal, that had flashed in her eyes.

“Shit.” Zach shook his head, trying to keep all the emotions, memories, from rushing back at him.

The night she left, she’d promised to call every night. She said she would visit over the coming months. She said she’d be back after the internship.

But the calls got shorter. The gaps between them grew longer. The visits never happened.

Zach hadn’t said it aloud, not even to himself, but he’d known the moment things shifted that summer. She’d started talking about the restaurants she was writing about, the chefs she was shadowing, the new apartment she might take.

And suddenly, it wasn’t about coming home anymore—it was about making it there.

He didn’t blame her, not really. He was still proud of her, and he always would be. At the end of the day, Zach and Maple Falls were just not enough for her.

He just wished he’d at least tried to tell her how much he loved her and that he wished she’d come home.

She’d asked him if something was wrong, all those years ago on the phone, the day after she forgot their anniversary.

He’d tried to call her that day, but her phone went straight to voicemail, over and over.

He’d tried to tell himself she was just busy, that she’d call back. But as the hours ticked by, he couldn’t move past the hurt. It felt like she’d forgotten him, forgotten them .

Bitter and angry, he’d cancelled the flower order he’d sent to her New York apartment. Then he’d gone tothe Kettle, downing cheap whiskey, letting the noise of the bar drown out the hurt clawing at him.

That was when Tara Miller, a girl he barely knew from high school, had slid onto the stool beside him.

She laughed too loud, leaning in, clinging to him.

He remembered the way she looked at him, expectant, like she thought he wanted this, when he clearly wasn’t interested. Not in her, not in anyone else.

He spent the whole night staring into his glass, hardly listening as she talked about things he didn’t care about, his mind wrapped up thinking about Madison.

The final straw was when Tara had tried to kiss him next to the pool table. He thought playing a game of pool would give him some space, but she’d followed right along, taking it as her cue to make a move.

Zach had been surprised and slow to react at first, but then he stepped back, shaking his head, muttering something about it being late. He’d gone home alone, crawled into bed with the scent of whiskey clinging to him, and stared at the ceiling until dawn.

The next day, Madison finally called, her voice clipped and careful, asking if he had anything to tell her.

And he didn’t know what to say.

Because what was there to say? Wasn’t he the one who should ask her that question? He was the one she’d left behind, the one she’d called after ignoring him on their anniversary. He was the one expected to make it easy for her to leave.

The truth was, Zach had never chased anyone in his life. Not his father when he’d walked out. Not Madison when she’d stopped calling. Because somewhere deep down, Zach didn’t believe he was the kind of guy people stayed for.

So, he’d let her go. And now, here he was, six years later, sleeping in the same cabin where they used to plan a life together.

And she was back at the inn just a few steps away.

Zach sank onto the edge of the bed and let his head fall into his hands.

Maybe this was his chance to finally let go.

Or maybe fate was giving him one more shot.