Chapter 4
FOUR
GAGE
After making a few stops in Misty Mountain, I meet my brother outside the cafe. The morning air is damp, and the remnants of a wood-burning fireplace lingers in the air. It’s the kind of scent that sticks to you, even after you leave.
If you ever leave.
In my experience, most people don’t leave this town once they get there. It has a way of getting under your skin. At least, that’s what my grandparents used to say about how they landed there.
I lean against my truck, arms crossed, watching Jesse nurse a to-go coffee from The Pink Petal Café like it holds the secrets of the universe.
“She was in line after me,” he says casually, like he hasn’t been tracking Tessa’s movements like a hawk. “And she was still carrying that cat of hers around.”
It’s my fault for not having a better story when my brother asked who the looker was that got out of my truck earlier.
“Thanks for the play by play,” I grunt.
He sips. “She also stopped to talk to Hank. I saw them shake hands.”
That tightness returns in my chest for a second. I force my face blank.
“She was probably asking for directions.”
Jesse snorts. “At the tavern? Yeah, that sounds like something a lost woman with a cat would do first thing in the morning.”
“She’s not lost.”
He raises a brow. “No. She found you.”
Before I can tell him to stop, the door to the café swings open and Tessa steps out. She’s holding a paper cup in one hand and a bakery bag in the other. The wind catches the edges of her hair, and the sunlight shows hints of gold in her reddish brown hair.
Her cheeks are pink, and she’s smiling to herself. I can’t stop the smile from forming on my own face.
Jesse clocks the look and nudges my arm. “You’ve got it bad.”
I shake my head. “She’s just passing through.”
“Uh-huh.” Jesse tilts his head. “And you offered her a guest room why, again?”
“She had nowhere else to go.”
“That all?”
“She’s…” I trail off, not sure how to finish that sentence without giving something away. “She’s different.”
That’s the problem. Different is dangerous.
Tessa crosses the street and heads toward us, pausing for a second to wave goodbye to someone inside the café. Probably Clara. Clara doesn’t let anyone leave without a cinnamon roll or a psychic reading disguised as life advice.
“She’s got a cinnamon roll,” Jesse mutters. “She’s halfway to citizenship.”
I elbow him just hard enough to make a point.
Tessa steps up, her smile bright despite the morning chill. “Clara says hi,” she says, holding up the bag. “And apparently, I’ve been claimed by the town gossip network.”
I nod and gesture to the cup in her hand. “Coffee any good?”
She holds it up like a trophy. “It’s a lavender honey latte. It’s surprisingly delicious. And addictive.”
Jesse gives her his most charming grin. “You must be the latest stray Gage dragged in.”
She raises an eyebrow. “That’s one way to put it.”
I sigh and gesture between them. “Tessa, this is Jesse. My brother. My much older, much ruder brother”
Her expression shifts, slightly in surprise. “You didn’t say you had a brother.”
“I try to forget whenever I can.”
Jesse chuckles and extends a hand. “People around here call me Deputy Jesse. Local law, part-time fence repairman, full-time pain in his brother’s ass.”
She laughs and takes his hand. “Tessa. Stranded traveler, part-time bartender, and mother of a very vocal cat.”
“Ah,” Jesse says, releasing her hand. “So you’re the one making our boy here act all cagey and weird.”
I shoot him a glare, but Tessa just grins wider. “I’ll try not to take all the credit.”
Jesse gives me a look that says she’s quick, and I can’t argue.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I attempt to change the subject. “We heard you met Hank.”
“He offered me a summer job,” she says, surprised. “He said they could use help behind the bar.”
I let my hand fall and glance up at her. “Are you thinking about it?”
She shrugs, but there’s something thoughtful in her expression. “I told him I’m just here until my car is fixed. He said the job’s only for the summer. It’s not like I have anything lined up in Vegas. So if I needed to stay a while…”
She lets the rest hang in the air.
My chest does that thing again—that weird, coiled bracing like I’m waiting for impact. But I don’t know if it’s hope or warning.
Jesse watches me carefully, like he can read everything I’m trying not to say.
I look at Tessa instead.
“You’d be good at it,” I say.
She blinks, then smiles. “Thanks.”
There’s a pause, just long enough to feel like it could go somewhere.
Then Jesse ruins it. “I gotta go drop off some feed. Let me know when the wedding invites go out.”
I shoot him a look sharp enough to draw blood.
He just winks and walks off, whistling something that sounds suspiciously like a love song.
Tessa raises an eyebrow. “Is he always like that?”
“Worse when he’s bored.”
She laughs. “You okay if I hang around the cabin a little longer? Until the car’s ready?”
“Yeah,” I say, too fast. I clear my throat. “Yeah. Of course. And if you need to stay a little longer… I have plenty of room. For you and Whiskey.”
She nods. “Cool. I, uh… I like it there. Everyone is so welcoming. And it’s a nice change of pace after…”
I glance away, pretending to check something in the truck bed.
We head back toward the truck, our steps falling in sync again. And despite myself—despite everything—I find I don’t mind the sound of her beside me.
Not at all.
* * *
Later that night, as the sun sets, the shadows shift on my cabin’s walls.
The sky outside fades from soft gold to the inky blue of twilight. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots—a slow, low sound that echoes across the trees.
Tessa helps me clear the dinner dishes. We don’t talk much. We don’t have to. There’s a quiet rhythm between us already.
After, I tug on a jacket and grab the small med kit I keep stocked for the rescues.
“I have a fox kit in need of a rewrap,” I say. “You wanna come?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Let me grab a sweatshirt.”
A few minutes later, we’re crossing the yard together beneath the rising moon. The old hanging lantern outside the barn casts a warm glow as I push the door open.
Inside, it’s quieter than quiet. Just the low rustle of movement in the pens, a soft chuff from one of the raccoons, and the steady creak of the boards beneath our boots.
The fox is in the back enclosure. He’s one of the younger rescues. Slender, orange-red fur, with a bald patch on his shoulder where a wound is still healing. It’s nothing major. But it needs to be cleaned and rewrapped regularly.
I kneel beside the enclosure and unlock the latch, keeping my voice low and steady as I call the fox over.
Tessa kneels beside me without being asked. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t hesitate.
Not when the fox growls softly, not when I lift the leg and peel back the bandage to reveal the wound.
She just watches. And for a second, I don’t see the girl who got stranded in the woods with a loud-mouthed cat.
I see someone who could belong here. Someone who might understand.
Her hands are gentle as she unwinds the bandage and hands it to me. She listens closely as I guide her through it, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin.
We crouch by the pen, our shoulders brushing as she balances the gauze.
“So you really do this alone?" she asks, voice soft.
“Most of the time. Occasionally the kids in town will volunteer to get extra credit at school.”
“Isn’t it hard.”
“It’s necessary.”
“And it doesn’t get lonely?"
“How could I be lonely when I have so many friends? Besides…”
She glances up at me, eyes searching.
“Besides what?”
I shake my head slowly. “Besides, I stopped needing noise to feel complete.”
Her gaze dips to my mouth. Just for a second. My breath stalls.
I should move.
Instead, I reach up and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. My fingers brush her cheek. Soft. Warm.
She doesn’t pull away.
My gaze drops to her lips. She rubs them together—a nervous habit, maybe. But it makes them look fuller.
Too close.
Too much.
The fox chirps behind us, but we don’t move.
Her breath brushes across my lips.
I lean in to narrow the distance between us.
That’s when Whiskey yowls from the porch.
She blinks and pulls back. “He… probably wants dinner.”
I nod and take my own step back.
I clear my throat. "Right. Yeah. The cat."
We both stand there a little too long before heading toward the cabin.
Nothing happened.
But it almost did.