Chapter 7
TRACE
I woke up with Sabrina curled against my chest, her dark hair spilling over my shoulder like silk. Morning light filtered through the navy curtains, casting a golden glow around my bedroom that made the past week feel like something out of a dream.
We'd fallen into a routine so easily it scared me.
She'd show up at my cabin most evenings after closing the coffee shop, sometimes with takeout from the diner, sometimes with groceries so we could cook together.
We'd talk about the wedding preparations, about nothing important, about everything except what mattered most. Then I'd pull her into bed and lose myself in the warmth of her skin, and the soft sounds she made when I touched her just right.
It should have felt perfect, and in a lot of ways, it did. But there was still something underneath it all. A kind of tension I couldn't quite name. Like we were both holding our breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Sabrina stirred against me, her palm flattening against my chest. "What time is it?" she mumbled.
"Early. You don't have to get up yet."
She lifted her head, blinking at me with sleep lingering in her gorgeous hazel eyes. Her lips were swollen from last night's kisses, and there was a faint mark on her neck from where I'd gotten a little carried away. The sight of it sent a possessive thrill through me. She was finally mine.
"I should probably head home soon," she said, but she didn't move. Instead, she traced circles on my chest, her touch making my pulse skip. "Paige opens today, but I want to get there early to prep for a catering order."
“Is Mimi still driving you up a wall?”
"You have no idea." She laughed, but it sounded forced. "Yesterday she decided she wanted the coffee service moved from the reception to the ceremony. Something about 'caffeine as a love ritual.'"
I ran my fingers through her hair, both surprised and not surprised at all at how right she felt in my arms. "At least it'll all be over soon."
Something flickered across her face, too quick for me to read. "Yeah. Soon."
The word hung between us, loaded with meaning I didn’t understand. I’d noticed it more and more over the past week. There were moments when she seemed to retreat into herself, like she was carrying something heavy that she wouldn't let me help with.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
"I’m just tired." She pressed a kiss to my collarbone, effectively ending the conversation.
I wasn't ready to let it go. Not when I could feel her pulling away even while she laid there naked in my arms.
"Sabrina." I waited until she looked at me. "What's going on? And don't say nothing. I can tell something's bothering you."
Her gaze slipped away from mine. "It's just the wedding stress. And all the media attention. Having that podcaster back in town..." She shrugged. "It brings up a lot of stuff, you know?"
There it was again… that careful distance whenever the Ex-List came up. I'd tried to bring it up a few times over the past week, wanting to clear the air completely, but she always found a way to change the subject.
"We never really talked about all that," I said, trying to be careful with my words so she didn’t shut down. "The list, the podcast. What it was like for you when everything blew up."
She went super still. "What's there to talk about? Like you said before, we should just ignore him."
"Are you sure? Because that guy's been sniffing around town all week, asking questions. And every time his name comes up, you look like you want to run."
"I just don't like him being in town.” Her tone sounded defensive. “He twists everything around just so he can get good ratings."
I sat up, gently moving her so I could look at her head-on. "Hey. Look at me."
Reluctantly, she met my eyes. What I saw there made my chest ache—guilt and fear and something that looked almost like grief.
"Whatever you're worried about, we can handle it," I said. "Together. But you have to talk to me. We can't go back to keeping secrets from each other."
For a moment, I thought she might open up. Her lips parted like she was about to say something important. But then she shook her head and forced a smile. "There's nothing to worry about. I promise."
It was a lie. I could see it in the way her eyes wouldn't quite meet mine, in the tension that had crept into her shoulders. But I didn't push. Maybe I should have, but I was too afraid of scaring her away when we were just finding our way back to each other.
So, I kissed her forehead and tried to ignore the knot tightening in my gut. "Okay. But you know you can tell me anything, right?"
"I know."
The rest of the morning passed. We made coffee together in my kitchen, Sabrina stealing pieces of the bacon I was frying while I pretended not to notice.
She wore one of my flannel shirts over her underwear, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and looked so much like she belonged there that my chest ached with how right it all was.
But even as we laughed and teased each other, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were playing house, pretending everything was fine when something fundamental was wrong.
When she left for work, I stood on the porch watching her truck disappear down the drive.
The morning was crisp and clear, the kind of fall day that usually made me want to grab my hiking gear and disappear into the mountains for a few hours.
Instead, I thought about the careful way Sabrina had avoided my eyes when she said goodbye, and the quick kiss that felt more like an apology than affection.
I stopped in at the Hard & Handy and spent the rest of the day at the Inn, putting finishing touches on the wedding preparations.
The photographer's assistant had arrived the day before and wanted to test different lighting setups, which meant moving half the furniture around and then moving it back.
By the time I was done, my back ached and my patience was shot.
But the physical work gave me time to think, and the more I thought, the more convinced I was that Sabrina was hiding something big.
Nico had been making the rounds all week, interviewing locals he hadn’t talked to yet about the Ex-List and the upcoming wedding.
I'd managed to avoid him so far, but I'd heard he was particularly interested in talking to anyone who knew the "real story" behind the list. A few people had mentioned seeing him at Morning Wood, chatting with customers, asking casual questions that probably weren't casual at all.
What if he'd pressured Sabrina somehow? What if he knew something that could hurt her, or the coffee shop, or both?
The thought had my hands clench tight around the hammer I was holding. If that bastard was threatening her in any way—
"Easy there, tiger." Aunt Marla's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. "That poor nail never did anything to you."
I looked down to find I'd been hammering the same spot for the better part of a minute, driving the nail so deep into the wood it had disappeared entirely.
“I’m just focused," I muttered, setting the hammer aside.
"Focused on demolishing my deck, maybe." She studied my face with an expression that meant she was about to start meddling. "What's bothering you?"
"Nothing. I just want to get this finished in plenty of time before the wedding."
"Uh-huh." She didn't sound convinced. "This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain coffee shop owner who's been looking stressed out all week, would it?"
I should have known Marla would notice. Nothing happened in Hard Timber without her hearing about it, and she'd always had a soft spot for Sabrina.
"She's fine," I said.
"Is she? Because Nellie mentioned she's been as jumpy as a cat in a thunderstorm. And that podcaster fellow was asking an awful lot of questions about her the other day."
The knot in my stomach tightened. "What kind of questions?"
"Oh, you know. How long she's lived here, what she was like growing up, whether she knew anything about how that Ex-List got started." Marla's eyes sharpened. "Seemed mighty interested in her connection to you, too."
Fuck. I'd known this was coming, but I'd hoped the bastard would give up and move on to easier targets. "What did you tell him?"
"Nothing he couldn't have figured out himself. That you two grew up together, used to be close." She paused. "I may have mentioned that anyone looking to cause trouble for that girl would have to go through me first."
Despite everything, I almost smiled. Marla was five-foot-nothing and looked like someone's sweet grandmother, but she had a protective streak a mile wide and the connections to some locals with questionable histories to back it up.
"Thanks," I said.
"Don't thank me yet. That man's still sniffing around, and he's got the look of someone who thinks he's onto something big." She pinned me with a stare that used to make my big brother cave, and he wasn’t scared of anything. "You might want to have a conversation with Sabrina before he does."
“Will do.”
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of catering to the whims of the demanding photographer and my growing anxiety.
By the time I finished at the Inn, I'd made up my mind to drive straight to Morning Wood and have it out with Sabrina.
Whatever she was hiding, whatever had her so spooked, we were going to deal with it together.
But when I got there, the shop was already closed. Sabrina's truck wasn’t in its usual spot, either.
I tried calling her. No answer.
I drove by her house… a small rental on the outskirts of town that she'd moved into when she opened the coffee shop. The windows were dark and her truck wasn’t in the drive.
Finally, I headed home, telling myself not to panic. Maybe she'd gone to dinner with one of her girlfriends or was helping Nellie with something at the diner. Maybe she just needed space to think. But as the hours passed without hearing from her, my nerves stretched to the breaking point.
It was almost ten when I heard tires on gravel. I was on the porch before her truck door even opened, relief flooding through me at the sight of her.
"Hey," she said, climbing the steps slowly. "Sorry I'm late. I had to—" She stopped, taking in my expression. "What's wrong?"
"You didn't answer your phone."
"It died. I was out at the lake and needed to think." She reached for my hand, her fingers cold. "I'm okay."
But she wasn't. I could see it in the set of her shoulders, the careful way she wasn't quite meeting my eyes.
"Marla said the podcaster's been asking questions about you."
She flinched. "It's nothing I can't handle," she said.
"That's not an answer."
"Trace." She stepped closer, her free hand coming up to rest on my chest. "Can we not do this tonight? Please? I just want to forget about everything else for a while."
The plea in her voice nearly undid me. Whatever was wrong, she was hurting, and all I wanted was to make it stop. But I also knew that ignoring problems didn't make them go away, it just made them bigger.
"Okay," I said finally. "But we need to talk soon. Really talk."
Something in her expression shifted. "I know. Soon, I promise."
We went inside, and she let me hold her while we watched a movie neither of us paid attention to. But even as she curled against me, soft and warm and right where she was always meant to be, I could feel the distance between us growing.
Later, as we snuggled close together in my bed, she traced her fingers over my chest in the darkness.
"Trace?" Her voice was so quiet I almost missed it. "Whatever happens... I need you to know that this—us—it's the best thing I've ever had."
The words should have made me happy. Instead, they sounded like an end.
"Whatever happens with what?" I asked.
She was already asleep or pretending to be. So I stared up at the ceiling, wondering what storm was coming and whether we'd survive it this time. Because one thing was becoming crystal clear. Sabrina wasn't just hiding something. She was hiding something big enough to destroy us.
And tomorrow, I was going to find out what it was.