Chapter 18
Jada
The next day, the bell above the door jingled as I stepped inside Deja Brew, the scent of fresh coffee and warm pastries wrapping around me like a familiar embrace. I was coming home from the grocery store and had decided to pick up some more of those cinnamon rolls.
Hunter had said he wanted to talk about some stuff tonight. Figure out a plan for moving forward—that there were some details I needed to know. I figured cinnamon rolls could only help.
For a second, everything in the coffee house felt normal. Conversations, laughter, milk steaming. But as I stepped forward, a sort of hush fell over the room.
It wasn’t dramatic. No one gasped or pointed. But I felt it. A shift. A pause in conversation. A whisper too soft to catch.
I kept my head high and made my way to the counter, my boots tapping against the worn wooden floor. Lena stood behind the espresso machine, her hands steady as she poured steamed milk into a ceramic mug. Her purple-streaked hair caught the light, a flash of color against the braid over her shoulder.
She glanced up, her expression unreadable. “What can I get you?”
Not Hey, Jada or Good to see you again . Just business.
“Medium coffee. Black. Four cinnamon rolls too, if you have them.”
She nodded, reaching for a cup. No hesitation, no scowl, but no warmth either. Same when she packed the pastries.
I told myself it didn’t matter. But as I handed over the cash to pay, I caught movement in my periphery—a woman at the corner table, leaning into her friend, their heads close together. Another at the register, sneaking a glance at me before looking away.
It was in my head. It had to be.
I’d been here a few times now, enough that I wasn’t a total outsider, but not enough to be part of the fabric of Garnet Bend. I hadn’t given them much reason to like me. I’d been tucked away at the cabin, hiding in plain sight, trying to piece my life together.
Lena set my coffee and the box of cinnamon rolls on the counter. “Need anything else?”
I shook my head, fingers wrapping around the warm cup. “Thanks.”
She turned away without another word. I let out a slow breath, stepping back toward the door, needing air, space. Something.
I stepped out onto the sidewalk, the early afternoon sun cutting through the crisp Montana air, and headed for the arboretum in the center of town. It was barely more than a glorified greenhouse—a small, glass-walled garden nestled between two brick buildings—but it was peaceful. Quiet. A place where I could breathe without feeling like I had to prove I belonged.
I wanted to recenter myself before going home to Hunter. We did have a lot of things to talk about, and I didn’t need to be all paranoid about feeling like people were looking at me. I had real problems to face; I didn’t need to manufacture anything in my own mind.
I swung the arboretum door open with a soft creak, the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers greeting me. Sunlight filtered through the glass ceiling, casting dappled patterns across the stone path leading to the tiny waterfall feature in the middle of the space.
I settled onto the worn wooden bench near the water, wrapping my hands around my coffee and letting the warmth sink into my palms. The soft trickle of the waterfall filled the silence, steady and soothing. Waterfalls were becoming my favorite thing.
That’s what I needed to do, wasn’t it? Begin to rebuild my life. It didn’t matter what I’d liked or not before. I could start again and decide from there.
Jace Monroe was supposed to call later with an update on my financial situation. Not that I had much hope for good news. Nothing I knew about my former self led me to believe I had set myself up for stability.
The idea of starting over from scratch was overwhelming. But what other choice did I have?
Lark had half joked about me working at Pawsitive Connections, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. I loved the animals and being outside. It was definitely something to consider once I had more information.
The door creaking open interrupted my thoughts. I turned my head but didn’t recognize the woman who stepped inside. She was striking. Long brown hair, a power suit, and high heels —a formidable but stylish business outfit that looked like it belonged in New York City, not Garnet Bend. I had to admit I was a little jealous of how effortlessly polished she looked.
She paused near the entrance, her gaze sweeping over the space before landing on me. I offered a small smile, trying to shake the lingering unease from Deja Brew.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I gestured toward the waterfall, the small cascade trickling over the mossy stones.
The woman tilted her head, considering. “I suppose.”
Not exactly friendly. Man, was it something in the water?
Still, I tried again. “Are you visiting? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”
Something in her expression shifted, almost imperceptibly. A flicker of something unreadable.
“I live here.” A pause. “Part time. My business keeps me traveling.”
She had the kind of voice that didn’t rush. Even, controlled. The kind of voice that carried weight.
I nodded, trying to keep things light. “What kind of business?”
She didn’t answer right away. Just…studied me. An odd sensation crawled up my spine, that feeling of being examined under a microscope.
Then she spoke. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”
My stomach tightened. “Should I?”
Her lips pressed together, just for a beat. Then?—
“I’m Kenzie Hurst.”
Everything inside me froze. This was the woman I’d stalked and kidnapped.
A sharp ringing filled my ears, my heart slamming against my ribs. I felt it before my mind even fully processed it—the fight-or-flight surge of adrenaline, the ice crawling up my spine.
She didn’t move. Didn’t shift forward. Just watched me, waiting for something.
For me to react? To deny it? I couldn’t do either. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
Her gaze sharpened, and she gave a quick inhale before she spoke again. “You really don’t remember anything, do you?”
I barely managed to shake my head. “No.” It sounded weak. Hollow.
Kenzie exhaled, something flashing in her expression before it disappeared. Frustration. Resignation. It wasn’t anger. Not exactly. Not the fiery rage I might’ve expected. It was something colder. Heavier. “Unbelievable.”
I swallowed hard, my pulse thrumming in my ears.
Kenzie’s voice was quiet but flat. “Do you remember any of it?”
I shook my head slowly, a painful twist settling deep in my stomach. “No.”
That wasn’t enough. Not for her. Not for me either. She crossed her arms, her weight shifting onto one leg. “So that’s it, then? You get to pretend it didn’t happen because you can’t remember?”
I winced. “It’s not pretending.”
“Feels like it,” she muttered, gaze flicking out toward the waterfall. The breeze shifted the hem of her jacket, but she didn’t move. “You hunted me. Across states. Tormented me. You made my life hell.”
“I believe you.” My voice caught. “I just— I can’t remember it. And I know that’s not fair. You deserve to confront the woman who did that to you. I just— She’s gone.”
Kenzie didn’t speak for a moment, her jaw tight. Then she nodded, more to herself than to me. “Okay.”
She turned to leave.
“Wait,” I said, the word scraping out of my throat. “Please. Can you just…tell me?”
She stopped. Didn’t turn around. “Why? So you can feel worse?”
“No. Because you’re the only person I’ve met who actually knew me before. You don’t have to make it nice. I don’t want you to. I need the truth.”
Kenzie turned, her eyes narrowing. “You really want to hear it?”
“I need to.”
She looked at me for a long beat, like she was searching for a crack in my resolve. When she didn’t find one, she blew out a sigh. “Fine. But don’t expect me to sugarcoat it.”
I nodded, throat tight.
“We had one thing in common,” she said. “Alan Ard.”
My stomach clenched.
Kenzie let the name settle between us, her expression unreadable. “Not exactly something either of us should be proud of.”
No. Not even close.
“He lied to both of us,” she continued. “Spun whatever story he needed to to get what he wanted. Told me I was special. Told you I was the reason for all his problems.” She let out a humorless laugh. “Said you and he couldn’t have a future as long as I was around.”
The words hit like a blow, hard and fast.
“And you believed him,” Kenzie said simply. “You made sure I got the message. That I didn’t belong. So you decided to make my life hell, hoping I’d move far away.”
A sharp, sick feeling coiled in my gut. I didn’t remember, but I knew she was telling the truth. I couldn’t stop my flinch.
“There’s no point in this,” she said.
“I need to hear it.” My voice came out steadier than I felt.
She studied me for a moment, then exhaled. “Fine. You sent messages. Not just creepy ones. Threats. Dark, twisted things meant to terrify me. And when I didn’t leave, you escalated.”
She took a step closer. Not threatening, but close enough that I couldn’t look away.
“You paid someone to throw me down in a parking lot,” she said, her voice even, like she was listing off groceries. “Pour gasoline on me.”
I sucked in a breath, horror settling deep in my bones.
“That wasn’t enough,” Kenzie went on. “You trashed my house. Tore it apart. Wrote on the walls with—” she stopped, jaw tight before she forced the words out “—animal blood.”
I pressed a hand to my stomach, nausea rolling through me.
“And then there was the rattlesnake.”
I barely heard her. “What?”
Kenzie tilted her head, something dark flickering across her face. “You broke in to where I was staying here and locked me in my own bathroom. Left a rattlesnake in there to play with me. Granted, it was devenomized, so evidently, it wouldn’t have actually killed me. But it scared the shit out of me.”
She didn’t say anything more after that, as if it was all routine.
“And the actual kidnapping.” My breath shuddered out of me, my hands shaking. “Why didn’t you press charges?”
My voice barely made it past my lips. It wasn’t a question I wanted to ask, but I had to. Because if what she said was true—if I had stalked her, tormented her, locked her in a bathroom with a snake—then I should be in prison right now.
She studied me, her expression unreadable. Then, finally, she said, “Because I believed you were just another one of Alan’s victims.”
I flinched. Victim . I didn’t feel like one. I felt like a villain.
She crossed her arms, exhaling slowly. “I know what it’s like to be sucked into his orbit. The way he could twist things. Manipulate them. And because that night at the cabin, you saved my life.”
I stopped breathing.
“Alan was going to kill me,” she said. No hesitation. No doubt. “You stopped him. He had already tased you and knocked you down. Then you surprised everyone when you got back up and jumped on his back. He was coming after me with a knife. You fought him, hard. Then he laughed cruelly in your face and injected you with that drug. Took away your whole life.”
My stomach clenched. I pressed a hand against my ribs, but it did nothing to steady me.
Kenzie tilted her head, her voice softer now. “I don’t know if that makes up for everything else. Maybe nothing does.” She let out a slow breath. “But it was enough for me. That, and if it weren’t for you, I would’ve never met Jensen, the love of my life. I would’ve never found my way to Garnet Bend and the people who have become family to me.”
“It’s got to be hard for me to be here in Garnet Bend.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but in the quiet of the arboretum, it felt louder. “Do you want me to leave?”
Kenzie let out a slow breath, her gaze flicking away for the first time, like she was searching for an answer she wasn’t sure of yet. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I have to think about it.”
She wasn’t saying yes, but she wasn’t saying no either. I didn’t blame her. I was a walking reminder of everything she’d been through.
Kenzie had a life here. A future. She was with Jensen, and she deserved to build something good, something untangled from the past I’d forced her to survive.
I nodded, my throat tight. “I understand.”
Because I did. It was one thing not to have pressed charges, but it was another thing entirely to be okay with me being her neighbor .
I swallowed hard. “I really am sorry.”
She didn’t say anything, didn’t offer me any absolution. Just watched me, eyes unreadable, as I turned and walked away.
By the time I reached the truck, the first tear slipped down my cheek. I got the door open, hands shaking as I slid behind the wheel. And then they spilled over completely. Silent, unrelenting, unstoppable.
Because no matter how much I wanted to change, no matter how much I wanted to be better—I couldn’t outrun the past.
And I sure as hell couldn’t erase it.