Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
SIX WEEKS LATER…
Tessa
The air smells like salt, sunscreen, and fresh bread from the little cafe down the street.
Tofino, the little ocean town on the West Coast, is just gearing up for the busy summer tourist season. People are everywhere. A sharp contrast to the way things were on the mountain.
I’d stayed with Dad just under a week. Long enough to catch him up on everything. Well, almost everything.
I’d done my best to explain to him why I was leaving school and how unsettled I felt. How restless I was.
I know it didn’t land the way I’d intended it to. Probably because by the time I got to Dad’s cabin, I was no longer feeling that same sense of discontent I’d felt when I left school. It’s crazy, I know, but in only a few days with Holt, I’d found what I’d been looking for.
Only he hadn’t been looking for me.
I’ve spent my whole life not being chosen, and I have way too much self-respect to stick around and wait for someone to decide if I’m worth keeping or not.
I stayed on the mountain for five days. Long enough for him to change his mind. Long enough for him to come and get me, tell me he missed me, and admit he’d made a mistake pushing me away.
He didn’t.
A gull shrieks overhead, and someone laughs a few tables over, pulling me back to the present at a little table on the waterfront.
It really is pretty on the coast. I can see why people are drawn here. Especially creative types looking for inspiration.
My untouched journal sits in front of me.
Maybe at a different time, this would have been the right place for me, too.
The man sitting across from me clears his throat. I’d forgotten he was even there.
“So,” he says, flashing what I once would have considered a handsome smile. “You said you’re just passing through? How long are you staying?”
I blink, trying to remember his name.
He’s harmless. About my age. Friendly and attractive in that outdoorsy way this town seems to specialize in.
“I’m not sure yet,” I answer truthfully.
He leans forward. “That feels pretty open-ended.”
I should know the answer. Or at least what my plan is for next week. Even tomorrow. That was the idea, wasn’t it?
Travel a little. Explore the world. Write. See what fits.
“Maybe I could show you around a little bit while you figure it out?”
It’s not a bad offer.
He’s kind and interesting enough. And he hasn’t made me feel uncomfortable or pressured in any way. He’s exactly the kind of boy I would have gone out with before.
And that’s the problem.
He’s a boy.
I feel nothing. There’s no spark between us. No intense heat. No pull toward him. No heat curling low in my belly.
Just…nothing.
“That’s sweet,” I say gently. “But I think I’d like to figure things out on my own.”
It’s not entirely true. But figuring things out with Holt is obviously not an option.
Fortunately, he nods, getting the message. “If you change your mind…”
I smile and give him a little nod. We both know I won’t.
After he walks away, I pick up my pen and stare at the blank page before me. Instead, I watch the ocean. Steady and relentless, the horizon stretches out before me, endlessly.
This is what I wanted. Space and time. Somewhere full of possibilities.
And yet… I feel more lost than ever, my thoughts constantly drifting back to my time on the mountain. The only time I’ve ever felt completely myself was in that cabin.
With him.
With a man who pushed me away. Who didn’t choose me.
I blow out a breath, close my notebook, and drop my pen before I let myself write his name.
Again.
Holt
The cabin is too quiet, and with every passing day, it only gets quieter.
For years, I’ve welcomed the stillness. It was something I cultivated and built my life around. If I was alone, then no one could need anything from me. There were no expectations, no questions. No witnesses to my struggle. It was just me, the trees, and my work.
Now the silence feels different. It’s heavy. Way too full of her absence.
Her silly, impractical shoes aren’t by the bed anymore. The blanket she cuddled up with on the couch is folded neatly over the armrest now, untouched.
My flannel shirt that was so oversized—and sexy—on her is draped over the chair in my bedroom. I still haven’t been able to bring myself to wash it and hang it back in the closet with the others. I’ll never wear it again.
The bed is the worst.
How is it possible that such a small woman could take up so much space? That the bed I used to occupy all on my own feels way too empty now that she’s gone?
She didn’t just take up room with her body; it was just…her. She changed everything about the cabin. The air within it. And in the workshop, too. The woodshed by the massive stack of logs I’d split.
Everything she touched is different now.
When she’d first driven off with Luke, I told myself I’d be fine, and everything would go back to the way it was.
It didn’t.
And it wasn’t.
Every morning, after hardly sleeping at all, I woke before dawn, my hand stretching across the mattress, searching for her.
The nightmares have come back, too. Not every night, but enough that I notice. I wake in a sweat, with my pulse racing, that old familiar coil of tension tight in my chest. Once, I accepted that as part of who I am.
But now I know how it can be. How it was. With her.
And that’s the dangerous part. Because knowing that there’s another way to live makes this way so much harder to swallow.
I could have asked her to stay. I could have told her what our short time together meant to me.
Those thoughts come to me more than I want to admit.
Every single day for six weeks, I’ve replayed the morning she left and the way I’d all but pushed her out the front door.
I’d purposely turned away from her, not wanting to face her because I was terrified that if I looked in her eyes, I’d drag her to me right there in the middle of the cabin, in front of her father, and tell her how much I didn’t want her to leave.
And I couldn’t do that to her.
She’s young, with her whole life in front of her.
Plans she hasn’t figured out yet. Experiences she hasn’t had and places she hasn’t seen.
I’m not going to be the reason she shrinks herself to fit inside these walls with a grumpy old mountain man.
I won’t stand in the way of her future, just because she feels like mine.
I didn’t have a choice but to let her go. To force her to go.
Even if every instinct I had wanted me to lock the door and keep her forever.
I run my hand along the board I’ve been trying to turn into something, forcing myself back into the present. Dwelling on what was and what could have been isn’t going to change anything.
The wood and the work never fail to ground me.
Correction. It used to ground me. Now, the rhythm of the sanding, the smell of the sawdust, the focus it takes to measure twice and cut once—all of it should be able to quiet my mind.
Not anymore.
I haven’t finished a piece since she left. Hell, I can hardly spend time in my shop anymore without memories of us together knocking me off-kilter.
With a growl of frustration, I slide the board back onto the workbench and click off the lights. There’s no point in staying out here. I’m not going to get any work done.
Reflexively, I check my cell phone. I don’t expect her to call. Not really. After all, we never even exchanged phone numbers. Still…
There’s a missed call from Luke.
Another one.
I know he needs help with some trees on the edge of his property.
It’s something we all help each other with from time to time.
It shouldn’t be a big deal. But I can’t face him.
I can barely even hear his voice without a wild rush of feelings.
He reminds me of her, but also of my betrayal of our friendship.
He called once after Tessa left to thank me again for taking care of her and told me she’d set out on her travels. He mentioned she was having fun, meeting people, and figuring things out.
I did my best to keep my voice level, but I didn’t ask any follow-up questions.
I stop on the porch before heading inside. The sun sinks low behind the trees, and I stand there until it’s faded away completely, just the way I have a thousand times before. Tonight, it feels less like peace and more like I’m letting something slip away.
Another day without her is done.
I don’t move until the last of the light disappears and the shadows settle around me, trying to convince myself I did the right thing.
Trying to tell myself that wanting her wasn’t enough to ask her to stay.