Chapter 3
TRACE
The first frost hit overnight. By the time I pulled into the Inn’s gravel lot, the ground crunched under my boots and my breath fogged in the crisp morning air.
Pine needles shimmered, coated in ice, in the early sunlight.
The whole town felt like it had been wrapped in glass.
This time of year, the mountains didn’t just hint at winter, they gave a full-fledged warning… get ready. It’s coming.
I pulled open the tailgate and hauled out the day’s load: two-by-sixes, a roll of painter’s plastic, a box of wood screws, and a coiled extension cord.
The weight was familiar and grounding. Everything I needed to do an honest day’s work.
As I set down my supplies and figured out which project to start first, the front door of the Inn creaked open behind me.
“You’re early.” That voice. It hit me like a sucker punch wrapped in velvet.
Sabrina stood in the doorway, her arms folded across her clipboard, steam rising from the to-go mug in her hand.
Her cheeks were pink from the cold, those dark waves tucked under a hand-knit beanie that she’d probably made herself.
I still had the one she’d knit for me though it was the first one she’d made and was way too small to fit around my head.
She wore a thick navy flannel over black leggings that were tucked into her worn leather boots. They were practical and no-nonsense, just like her. She was still the kind of woman who could steal my breath away, even while telling me I’d hung the Christmas lights crooked.
I shifted the cord in my hands. “So are you.”
She lifted her coffee. “Old habits.”
I set the wood down next to the porch and faced her. “Are you here to boss me around, or just supervising from a safe distance?”
Her mouth twitched but didn’t quite form a smile. “Marla wants the ceremony site checked for structural stability. Apparently, the wedding planner had a dream about a collapsing pergola.”
“Sounds like a real visionary.”
“She’s also asking if the porch railing will be replaced before noon.”
I arched a brow. “I’ll make sure it’s done. Are they serious about getting married outside? We both know the weather isn’t going to hold.”
“I’ve already got a dozen heat lamps on order.
Ridge said we could use the ones he has out on the patio of the Knotty Tap and Marla has a few.
Everyone will be more likely to roast than freeze once we get them all going.
” She cocked her head and offered a tiny grin.
“There’s no use trying to talk Mimi out of her vision. Believe me, I’ve already tried.”
“Okay, then. An outdoor fall wedding in Montana. Sign me up.”
Sabrina gave a small nod, then turned and disappeared through the lobby door.
Her scent lingered, a mix of coffee and vanilla.
Reminded me of the cold winter nights we’d spent sharing a blanket on the couch in her parents’ basement while we watched horror movies.
She’d bury her face in my shoulder until I told her it was safe to look at the screen again. I missed those days.
She was the same Sabrina… smart, focused, and too damn stubborn for her own good. But everything between us was colder than the air, brittle in a way that didn’t bend anymore. I didn’t know how the hell to fix it.
The morning passed in a blur of sawdust and overthinking. I’d laid out the railing project methodically, cutting each board with precision, driving in screws with practiced ease. The work gave me something to do, but even the rhythm of it couldn’t shut out the sounds drifting from the Inn.
I caught fragments of conversations. Mentions of table settings, guest lists, and vendor calls.
Sabrina’s voice was tight and efficient, confident in a way that made it seem like she belonged.
And she did. She’d always had a way of managing chaos like it was an art form.
I used to feel like she always saved a special space for me in the order she created.
Now I just felt like an outsider looking in.
Around ten-thirty, I headed to the truck for more screws and almost ran into her at the bottom of the steps. She was carrying a bakery box and that damn clipboard again, her brow furrowed like she was single-handedly working out how to bring world peace.
“Careful.” She stepped to the side right before we collided. “You almost turned these pastries into plywood.”
“Maybe a little sawdust would make them taste better,” I teased. She had to know I was joking. Nothing tasted better than one of Sabrina’s homemade baked goods.
She raised an eyebrow. “Bold words from someone who used to beg me for cinnamon scones.”
“I still maintain those were bribery. Strategic breakfast negotiations.”
She held out the box. “Marla had me bring these over for the volunteers. Want one before they disappear?”
I took a scone and our fingers brushed. Maybe I did it on purpose. It wasn’t quite an accident, but not really a moment either. Still, the contact was enough to make my pulse skip.
“Thanks,” I said.
“You’re welcome.” She hesitated, then turned and walked back inside.
I stood there a few heartbeats longer, holding the warm pastry like it might bite me. Her offering me a scone wasn’t exactly a truce, but it wasn’t nothing either.
I took a bite. It was still warm. Still good. Still Sabrina.
By noon, the temperature had climbed just enough to make the frost retreat, but tension inside the Inn built like a storm coming in over the mountains.
Marla paced the front hallway, juggling a notebook and two ringing phones. I could hear her from the back porch. Every five minutes it was a new crisis involving linens, flowers, or questions about the rehearsal timeline.
Sabrina was a force of calm in the middle of it all.
I watched her through the window looking in on the dining room.
She had one hand on her headset, the other waving at a vendor who’d arrived too early for a meeting with Mimi.
She moved like she was made for wrangling wedding planners with million-dollar clients. Cool, unflinching, in control.
Until she wasn’t.
She stopped right in front of the window and faced my Aunt Marla. “The podcaster wants an interview. He says he’s planning a whole segment on Hard Timber’s romantic unrest.”
I froze, mid-drill. Romantic unrest?
Marla shook her head and smiled. “He’s just trying to build hype. A little drama sells, sweetheart.”
“He wants a redemption story,” Mimi said, tapping her iPad. “Trace is the finale.”
Great. The guy wasn’t just back… he’d circled my name in red ink.
Sabrina almost dropped her pen. “This isn’t his story to tell. It’s not entertainment. It’s—”
“—part of the deal,” Marla cut in. “When the wedding goes viral, we’ll get more bookings than we can handle. You know how this works.”
I ducked back out of view and set the drill down without making a sound. Fuck the podcaster. He’d been poking around with questions about the Ex-List for months. When no one would talk to him, he’d made shit up on his own. Anything for ratings or to charge more for ad space.
I didn’t know what Sabrina had told him, if anything. But my gut said this wasn’t over.
As I moved around the side of the building, a crow called overhead, sharp and echoing. I looked up to see it perched on the Inn’s chimney, its dark feathers ruffled by the breeze. A sign, maybe. Or maybe just another thing in this town that wanted to watch my life continue to fall apart.
I sat in my truck and ate the lunch I’d packed before I left the house that morning. The coffee in my thermos was still warm, but it didn’t taste nearly as good as the dark roast Sabrina had been brewing over at Morning Wood.
Later, I checked in at the Hard & Handy, the hardware store I owned and had left in the care of my cousin’s kid while Marla kept me busy at the Inn.
Business was usually slow this time of year.
I probably could have shut it down until I finished what needed to be done at the Inn, but people counted on it being open just in case they needed something.
That was one thing growing up in a small town had instilled in me…
looking out for my neighbors and the other folks who called Hard Timber home.
And whether I liked it or not, that included Sabrina.
By late afternoon, I found myself heading toward Morning Wood.
I didn’t want coffee, and I sure as hell didn’t need another scone or muffin.
I had no business walking through the front door.
But my truck had somehow steered itself into a parking space out front, and my boots had carried me right inside. Truth was, I just wanted to see her.
Sabrina was behind the counter, humming to herself while she wiped down the espresso machine.
The café smelled like dark-roast coffee and a hint of chocolate, like the weekend mornings when we used to grab a thermos and head up the mountain for a hike.
Back when things were still easy, before everything fell apart.
She didn’t look up. “I didn’t expect to see your face again so soon.”
I stepped up to the counter. “Miss me already?”
“Like I miss food poisoning,” she said with a snort.
“You’re still dishing out charm with a side of sass, I see.”
“You’re the one who showed up uninvited,” she said, finally glancing up.
“Must be my magnetic personality.”
“More like a bad habit,” she muttered, reaching for a cup.
“Well, lucky for you, I’ve been told I’m hard to quit.” I stepped closer, dropping my voice, my chest warming from the easy banter. It almost felt like it used to between us. “I heard the podcaster’s sniffing around again.”
Her hands stilled. “He’s always sniffing. I told him I didn’t have anything to say.”
“Are you sure?”
Her brows pinched together. “You think I’d sell you out for a soundbite?”
“No. But you’re acting like you’re waiting for something to explode.”
Her mouth opened, then closed again. She shook her head. “I’m just tired, Trace.”
“Of me?” I regretted the question as soon as it left my mouth.
“Of… this.” She waved a hand between us. “All of it.”
That stung, and I felt the same damn way. “I didn’t mean for things to get weird,” I said. “That night on the porch—”
“Let’s not,” she cut in. “We don’t need to rehash the past.”
“But maybe we should.”
She looked away and filled a to-go cup to the brim. “It’s not that simple.”
“It was once.” And it could be again. I missed my best friend. I missed the man I was when I was with her. I just didn’t know how to say all that out loud.
She let out a sigh. “Before everything got messy. Before you started looking at me like—”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m a stranger.”
I took a breath, grounding myself. “You’re not a stranger, Sabrina.”
She didn’t answer, just slid the full cup of coffee across the counter.
I reached for it just to keep my hands busy. “You coming to the vendor meeting tomorrow?”
“I’ll be there,” she said, still not making eye contact. Then after a beat, “Just… don’t believe everything he says.”
“The podcaster?”
She nodded. “He’s good at twisting things around and making people out to be worse than they are.”
I studied her. Something was off. “Why are you so worried about what he might say?”
She hesitated. Just a flicker—but I caught it. “Because it’s not just gossip anymore,” she said. “It’s people’s lives.”
And maybe… hers. But I couldn’t figure out why. Unless she’d told him something she shouldn’t have. Or unless… no. That didn’t track.
I took a sip of coffee. “You didn’t talk to him, but you still think it’s going to blow up?”
Her lips curved into a strained smile. “In my experience, secrets don’t stay buried long in Hard Timber.”
Something in her tone didn’t sit right, like she was leaving more unsaid. Before I could press her for more, the door swung open behind me, and a burst of cold air swept in with a trio of teens. They were laughing and talking about pumpkin spice and Wi-Fi passwords.
Sabrina straightened, the mask sliding back into place. “What can I get started for you?”
And just like that, I was dismissed. But not forgotten. Because when I turned to leave, I caught her reflection in the bakery case glass. And she was still watching me.
I should’ve felt better. We’d talked… sort of. That counted for something, didn’t it? But years of being awkward around each other wasn’t something that could be fixed with a few words. And the way she’d looked at me… like she was hiding something… only made it worse.
I thought about calling my brother, but Alex was in Vegas for an away game and probably already on the ice. That left me alone with my nothing but questions running through my head. I was used to it, only now it felt like the answers I was looking for might wreck me.