Chapter 11
eleven
. . .
Rosalind
I wish I were with Jace instead of in the bookstore’s backroom folding flyers for the lending program, my mind circling the clock until I can be. But Evelyn needed these, and as always, I was the one who spotted the typo. A tiny error, but it keeps me here.
Evelyn comes in. “You’re making progress. By the way, I called Theo. There are still no rooms available at the lodge.”
I hadn’t even thought to call. “Thanks for checking.”
“Least I could do,” she says. “Sheriff Granger told me the pass will open in two days.”
“That’s….” My voice hitches. “Wonderful news.”
“Is it?”
I don’t answer.
She touches my shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll have lots of stories to share about staying at the cabin, but you’ll be home soon. And when you return to Hollow Peak, the lodge will have a room for you.”
The bell jingles. Evelyn goes out to greet whoever is here.
I continue folding on autopilot. My lungs protest with each inhale.
The pass opens, and my excuse for staying in Jace’s cabin disappears. I’ve ignored that. The same way I’ve ignored how he hasn’t wanted to have sex again, telling myself he’s being protective. That it’s a him issue, not because of me. And now…
Staying at the lodge had always been the plan before a rockslide and a lumberjack shattered everything. But I want to be with Jace and Spool, even if the lodge makes the most sense. It’s closer to the bookstore.
Margaret would pick the lodge. My sister wouldn’t understand why I’m hesitating.
But I am. I pick up another flyer.
The rockslide gave me an excuse that didn’t require me to say I want to stay in your cabin because you make coffee before dawn, carve bookmarks, and see all of me.
Staying at the cabin requires asking. I don’t do that. Instead, I offer acts of service, such as remembering birthdays and showing up early to help set up. I never have to find out that I’m not wanted.
The flyer crinkles in my grip. Now I’ll need to do the one thing I have spent my life avoiding. To say I want this. Please. To the man who took my virginity and carved me a bookmark. Who could say no?
Do I dare?
If I don’t, I’ll only be left with memories, and that’ll never be enough.
I leave the bookshop with flyers tucked into my binder and know exactly what I need—cinnamon rolls. That sweet, gooey goodness will help control my uneasy thoughts or ignore them for a while. Plus, Jace might enjoy them as much as I will.
I step through Switchback’s door. Mae sets down her coffee pot. “Get over here now.”
As I head toward her, Mae studies my face. “Lord. Mr. Side-Eye finally did something right.”
My face burns. “Mae—”
“Don’t you Mae me.” She plates a cinnamon roll. “I’ve been waiting four years for that man to start living again. Sit.”
I do, even though I planned to get an order to go.
She places a cinnamon roll in front of me with a cup of coffee and stands with her arms folded, looking at me like a miracle just walked in. “So…”
“It’s not… We’re just—”
“Sweetheart.” Her gaze softens. “I sent you up that logging road because I’ve known Jace Redmond since he was a boy. He needed something to pull him out of himself. And I had a feeling it just might be you.”
I gape. “You called him on purpose?”
“Damn straight, I did.” As she leans forward, her braid follows. “Mr. Side-Eye doesn’t do anything for anyone. But he drove to get you in that storm before he knew your name. You saw him on Main Street, but he saw you, too.”
As her words sink in, I wrap my hands around the coffee mug. “I had no idea.”
“He’s lost his way, but he’s in there.”
“I know.”
She pats my cheek. Her hand smells like flour and cinnamon. She slides a paper bag across the counter. Extra cinnamon rolls. A bag of her good coffee beans. “For the cabin. He drinks that cheap stuff like water. Too stubborn to buy the good kind for himself.”
“Thank you. I’ve been getting to know him, but—”
“It hasn’t been that long.”
I nod, even though time doesn’t matter when it comes to Jace. I take a bite of the cinnamon roll and almost moan.
“Want to know something else about him?” Mae asks.
“Please.”
“Eager, are we?”
“A little.” I try to downplay my curiosity.
Mae laughs. “Jace built my display shelf after the old one collapsed. He refused payment, even though he returned the next day to fix a rough spot on the corner.”
I remember everything around the cabin that needs repair. He must have the skill but not the drive. “He must be handy.”
“Oh, he was eager to help or build whatever someone needed. But that was before the accident,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone. “After that, he decided the world was done with him.”
I look at the cinnamon roll on my plate. My appetite is gone. “Let me pay you—”
“Don’t even think about it, sweetheart.”
Mae has known me for a few days, yet she’s fed me twice and is sending me up the mountain with cinnamon rolls and a bag of good coffee for a man neither of us has any official claim to. Small town must be a synonym for we feed each other. “Thanks.”
“No, thank you. I have a feeling you’re just what Jace needs.”
I hope she’s right.
My next stop is the Timberline Tavern. Antler chandeliers throw warm light on the wooden booths. It smells like burgers and bourbon. I’m here to drop off the lending program flyers for Evelyn.
The bartender points me toward a back booth where a man is eating a late lunch.
He sits alone, shoulders broad under a worn denim shirt, sandy hair a bit rumpled. Mason Hale, I think, running through Evelyn’s description. The volunteer firefighter with the freckles. He certainly looks “built for physical work.”
I head over with my binder and Mae’s bag. “Mason Hale?”
“You must be Evelyn’s book consultant,” he says with a warm smile. “Heard you’re staying up at Jace’s place.”
“He’s been generous.” I pick my words carefully, remove the flyers from my binder, and set them on the table.
“He used to be. Generous, I mean. Not just with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jace used to come into the Timberline every Friday night. Sat at the bar, drank two beers, talked to whoever was next to him.”
“That doesn’t sound like him.”
“Not the current him. But he was… different.”
I have to ask. “How?”
“He’s a lumberjack, but he’s handy, too. He built shelving for half the businesses on Main Street.” Mason tilts his beer toward the row of shelves behind the bar with clean lines and solid joinery.”
“Mae mentioned her display case.”
Mason points to a wall. “See that photo?”
As I squint, I make out Jace, pre-scar, with a few other men. “That’s Jace.”
“He volunteered with mountain rescue, too. Worked alongside Eli Donner for three seasons.”
That kind of work required communication. I can’t see Jace involved with that. “Really?”
“They pulled a family out of a flash flood up at Miners Creek. Jace carried the kid on his back for two miles.” Mason sets down his glass. “Then the cable accident happened.”
“Four years ago.”
“After that, he stopped everything.” His eyes meet mine, direct and unblinking. “The accident took more than skin.”
I stare at the flyers sitting between us, untouched. I’ve been learning about Jace by what was in his cabin. The mug with the handle turned my way. The damper. The books. My carved bookmark. But Mason is filling in the gaps.
A sharp pain pierces me for Jace. I want him to return to this tavern, but I don’t know if I’m brave enough to ask him if I can stay. How can I help him return to Hollow Peak if I’m not around?
“Anyway, I shouldn’t talk your ear off,” Mason adds. “I’m sure you need to get going.”
“It’s nice meeting you. Evelyn said you’d know what to do with the flyers.”
“I’ve got you covered.” He sits up straighter, eager and open. “Come back anytime. Always happy to help.”
I hope I get the chance to return and not alone. And if time is the only thing standing in the way, I’m willing to wait.
Outside, I text Jace. Ninety seconds later, the green pickup is headed toward me. This time, I don’t get a side-eye from the driver. He smiles at me, a real smile.
That has to be a good sign, right?
As soon as I climb into the truck, Spool smothers me and licks my face. His tail wags. “Miss me, sweet boy?”
Jace heads toward the logging road. “We both did. Get what you need?”
I place the bag of goodies Mae gave us where Spool can’t reach and hold on to my binder. “Yes, Evelyn’s so excited about the lending program, she didn’t want to wait until next week to get started.”
“Next week?”
“My first official day at the bookstore was supposed to be this coming Monday, but since I’m still in town, I thought I’d get started a week early and do what I could from your cabin.”
“Makes sense.” He glances at the bag. “Buy something?”
“Mae gave it to me. It’s for both of us.”
Jace rolls his eyes.
“What?” I ask.
He grips the steering wheel. “She… meddles.”
“That’s because she cares. Mae’s not the only one. People in town miss you.”
The truck drives over a pothole, and my organs rearrange inside of me, despite my seatbelt.
“Evelyn told you that?” He tries to sound nonchalant, but his voice catches.
“Mason Hale.”
Jace glances my way. “You know Hale?”
“I met him today. He’s going to pass out flyers for Evelyn.”
“Oh.” The one sound speaks volumes.
I wait for Jace to say more. He only stares out the windshield.
I tick off Mason’s words: Timberline Tavern every Friday, shelves on Main Street, mountain rescue. Then I point to Mae’s bag. “Mae sent cinnamon rolls and coffee. Says you’re too stubborn to buy the good kind.”
“I didn’t think they noticed I was gone.” His voice is rough with something that sounds like disbelief.
I reach around Spool and touch Jace’s arm. “Everyone noticed, and they miss you.”
His jaw tightens, and he adjusts his hands on the steering wheel.
“They’d love to see you around town. Not just when you fill up the truck or grab something you need from the hardware store or market.”
I expect a quick no. Jace says nothing. It’s a win, small but mine. Now for the pass.