Chapter 13
Liz
It had been about a week since Beck hired me.
Seven days of learning the menu, memorizing drink orders, and pretending my feet didn’t scream every time I crossed the cement floors.
The tips were good, the work straightforward, and I’d managed to keep my interactions professional despite some customers testing my patience.
What I hadn’t managed was to stop the gifts.
One morning, I’d found a package of wool socks on my trailer steps. The next day, a rechargeable flashlight appeared. Then a first aid kit. A box of protein bars. A fleece blanket. Each item was new and completely anonymous.
Except I knew exactly who was leaving them.
I’d considered leaving a note telling him to stop. Instead, I used the flashlight one night while taking my trash to the dumpster, and I wore the socks to work. The blanket lived on my couch now, soft and exactly the right weight.
I hated that I noticed.
I grabbed my purse from my locker before leaving the employee area. As I stepped into the restaurant, I scanned the area one last time. The crowd had thinned an hour ago, and Beck had already headed to the back office to count the register.
Lucan wasn’t here tonight.
The three times he’d been here during my shift, he’d sat at the bar. He hadn’t waved or called out a greeting. He’d simply eaten his meal, enjoyed his beer, and walked out without looking my way.
I told myself I didn’t care. That I was relieved. The fact that his absence tonight registered at all made me want to throw something.
His knife still sat in my trailer, hidden in a sock. Eighteen thousand dollars sat there while I worked shifts and pretended I wasn’t thinking about it.
I didn’t need the money anymore. The paychecks and tips would cover my rent and groceries. But I kept circling back to it and wondering if I should take the offer. I kept replaying the look on Lucan’s face when I’d walked away from him.
The check hadn’t reappeared. He hadn’t pushed. Hadn’t cornered me in the parking lot or shown up at my trailer with explanations I didn’t ask for.
He was respecting my boundaries, and somehow that made everything worse.
I pushed through the front door, the cool evening air hitting my flushed skin. I reached my car and unlocked the door, the interior light flickering on as I slid into the driver’s seat. My reflection stared back at me in the rearview mirror, tired and more confused than ever.
I pressed the ignition, and the engine started fine, but something was off about the idle. The whole car vibrated through the steering wheel in a way it hadn’t before.
I frowned, gripping the wheel tighter.
Probably nothing. The car was old. It made noises. This was just another one to add to the collection.
I pulled out of the parking lot, turning onto the road that led toward Wings End. The headlights carved through the darkness, illuminating the trees pressed close on either side.
The engine stuttered.
My stomach dropped.
The car jerked forward, seeming to lose power for half a second before catching again. I eased off the gas, heart hammering. The engine smoothed out, and I exhaled slowly.
Just a hiccup. It was fine.
I pressed the gas again, lighter this time.
The car jerked, and the vibration intensified, rattling through the frame like something inside was coming loose.
“No. No, no, no.”
My foot hovered over the pedal as the car lurched again, harder this time. The engine roared and then cut out entirely. The wheel went heavy in my hands, fighting me as I pulled the car onto the shoulder.
Silence.
Complete, suffocating silence.
I sat there, hands locked on the wheel, staring at the dashboard as the check engine light glowed mockingly at me.
I turned on my hazard lights and pressed the start button. The engine turned over once, then again, slower this time, before giving up entirely. It made a weak clicking sound that might as well have been a death rattle.
I tried again.
Click. Click. Click.
“Are you kidding me?”
My voice sounded too loud in the stillness. I cranked the key one more time, harder, as if force would somehow convince the car to cooperate.
Nothing.
I slumped in my seat, staring out at the road ahead. Trees loomed on both sides, their shapes barely visible beyond the reach of my headlights. I turned off the car, the darkness swallowing everything except my flashing lights.
I pressed my forehead against the steering wheel and counted to ten.
This was fine. I could handle this.
Except I couldn’t call AAA because I’d canceled that months ago when money got tight. I didn’t have a tow truck fund or a backup plan.
I pulled my phone from my purse and checked the time. Nearly eleven. Late, especially for a weeknight.
I opened the browser and typed “tow truck Ashford” with shaking fingers.
Three results popped up. I tapped the first number.
The automated message informed me that they were closed and would reopen at seven.
I tried the second one. Same thing.
The third was a chipper recording that thanked me for calling and invited me to leave a message.
Split Pine was a couple of miles back. Wings End was a couple of miles ahead. Walking in either direction in the dark, alone, on a road with no streetlights and minimal traffic at this time would be dumb.
Which left one option.
I pulled up my contacts and scrolled to Reese’s name.
My thumb hovered over the call button.
It was late, and she was probably asleep. Calling her meant admitting I needed help, and I’d spent the last week keeping my distance from everyone at Wings End. But sitting here in the dark wasn’t getting me anywhere.
I pressed call, and the phone rang three times. I held my breath, half-hoping she wouldn’t answer so I could hang up and figure something else out.
The line clicked. “Liz?” Reese’s voice came through clear and alert without a trace of grogginess.
Relief hit me so hard I almost laughed. “Hey. I’m sorry to call so late.”
“Are you okay?” The concern in her voice made my chest tighten.
“I’m fine. My car died about halfway between town and home. I was wondering if it would be too much to ask for a ride?”
“Of course. Do you have your hazards on? I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
Relief flooded me. “Thank you so much, and yes, my lights are flashing.”
I double-checked that my doors were locked, checked my mirrors, and settled into my seat.
The minutes ticked by with excruciating slowness until headlights appeared in the distance, cutting through the darkness from the direction of Wings End. My shoulders relaxed as the vehicle approached. Reese had made it even faster than she’d said.
The lights grew brighter, illuminating the interior of my car. I gathered my purse and reached for the door handle, ready to be rescued.
The vehicle slowed as it neared me, and my hand froze on the handle. It wasn’t Reese’s truck. The white pickup truck crawled past, the forestry service logo clearly visible on its door. I glimpsed Lucan’s profile behind the wheel, his eyes fixed on my disabled car.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I hissed through clenched teeth.
I watched in my side mirror as his brake lights flared red and he turned around. My heart pounded as his headlights got closer.
Something inside me snapped. All the frustration, all the confusion of the past week crystallized into a hot, bright anger that propelled me forward. I jabbed my finger into the hazard lights button, turning them off, and then shoved my car door open. I climbed out, slamming it behind me.
Lucan exited his truck as I came to a stop at the trunk of my car. “I called Reese.”
Lucan stopped a few paces away, his expression unreadable with the shadows crossing his face. “I was out on patrol.”
I narrowed my eyes at his jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers. “Oh? Is this another quirk of your job?” I gestured to his attire. “Give me a break.”
He ran a hand through his hair but didn’t step forward. “Unofficial patrol.”
I shook my head. “You know what? Forget it. I’ll walk home.”
“Liz—”
“No.” I turned away, my feet already moving. “I can’t keep doing this with you. I can’t trust a man to drive me who makes up ridiculous—” Movement caught my eye near the front of my car.
Three small shadows emerged from where my car blocked Lucan’s headlights, low to the ground and shuffling forward with ambling gaits.
Bear cubs.
Oh no.
The cubs moved closer, their noses twitching as they investigated my car. One of them rose onto its hind legs, pawing at my front bumper.
A much larger shadow materialized behind them.
The mother.
She was massive and moving with purpose as she tracked her cubs. Her head swung toward me, eyes locking with mine.
Every muscle in my body froze. My brain screamed at me to run, to move, to do something, but I couldn’t. I stood paralyzed, watching as the bear took a step forward.
I managed to take several shaky steps backward, my hand going to my purse and unzipping it to dig for my bear spray.
What was the saying? If it’s brown, lay down. If it’s black, fight back? At least it wasn’t a polar bear.
Lucan stepped in front of me, his body a solid wall between me and the bears. His posture shifted entirely, his shoulders squared, and his spine straightened in a way that radiated absolute control.
The bear advanced another step, her attention fixed on Lucan now. She snorted, her head lowering as she assessed the threat.
Lucan stood perfectly still.
In the side mirror, I saw his eyes flash as if someone had shined a light in them, but he took another step forward, and I could no longer see them.
The air seemed to thicken and heat, pressing against my skin. My pulse hammered in my ears, each beat counting down the seconds until the bear charged or retreated, or something happened.
The bear took another step forward.
Lucan made a sound.
It wasn’t quite a growl. It was deeper than that, resonating from somewhere in his chest that shouldn’t have been possible for a human.
It was a warning, and every hair on my body stood on end.
I stared at the back of his head, my mind scrambling to make sense of what I’d heard.
The bear stopped, her head tilted slightly, ears flicking forward. She held her ground for another moment, muscles coiled and ready. Then she huffed.
She turned her massive head toward her cubs and made a series of grunting noises that sent them scurrying toward the trees. They tumbled over each other in their haste, their small bodies disappearing into the shadows.
The mother bear followed, and within seconds, they were gone. Silence settled over the road again, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and my ragged breathing.
I couldn’t move or think. My eyes stayed locked on the spot where the bears had vanished, my body was still braced for an attack.
Lucan turned around, his expression calm. “Are you okay?”
I blinked at him, my brain refusing to catch up. “What just happened?”
“Black bears. They were curious about the car.”
“I know what they were. What did you do?”
“Nothing. She decided we weren’t worth the trouble.”
I took a step to the side, angling so I could see past him. My gaze darted to the trees, half-expecting the bears to reappear. “You growled at her.”
“I made noise. Bears don’t like confrontation.”
“That wasn’t just noise.”
He shrugged, his face unreadable. “Worked, didn’t it?”
My hands were shaking. I pressed them against my thighs, trying to steady myself. “You didn’t even move. You stood there and—”
I stopped, the words catching in my throat.
I’d seen something in the side mirror. His eyes had looked different. Not just the angle or the light. Different.
My stomach twisted.
“Liz.” His voice was softer now. “You’re in shock. It’s normal after an adrenaline spike.”
“Don’t.” I held up a hand, taking another step back. “Don’t tell me what’s normal. That wasn’t normal.”
“I’ve been doing this job for decades. I know how to handle wildlife.”
“By growling at them?”
“By projecting confidence and dominance. Predators respond to body language and tone. She read me as a bigger threat and backed off.”
It sounded reasonable, but I heard that sound and saw his eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
He exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. “What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
I shook my head, frustration boiling over. “You’re giving me some sanitized version you think I’ll accept. Just like the unofficial patrol excuse. Just like showing up at Split Pine and pretending you weren’t there for me.”
We stared at each other, the tension stretching thin between us. My heart hadn’t slowed, and my hands still trembled. And I couldn’t stop replaying the image of his eyes in that mirror.
Lucan took a slow breath, his shoulders dropping as if defeated. “I’ll explain if you get in the truck.”
I should have pointed out that this was exactly how people ended up in the back of vans on true crime shows. But I was exhausted, and I just wanted to go to sleep.
So I turned on my heel and got in his truck.