7. Jensen
JENSEN
It’s almost nine at night, and I’ve spent the last hour reading the same page of a book over and over while not compulsively checking my phone, which is sitting face-down on the nightstand.
Cody’s sprawled across the other bed, flipping channels from his nest of Skittle wrappers.
The kid has the attention span of a gnat and a wicked sweet tooth.
We both freeze as a soft knock sounds against the door.
“Holy shit,” Cody mutters as he scrambles off the bed like he’s been nudged with a cattle prod, candy wrappers flying. “She’s here, Jensen,” he whispers in his non-inside voice. “She came.”
Heart pounding, I cross to the desk chair and grab the T-shirt I threw there earlier.
“Don’t put a shirt on.” He points a finger at me. “The bare-chested thing works in your favor.”
“I’m putting a shirt on,” I tell him. “You should, too.”
“Oh, yeah,” he agrees, rifling through his duffel bag. “If it’s her, I’m getting the hell out of here. You know the sock-on-the-doorknob trick, right?”
“Cody, I want to talk to her. I’m not planning on seducing her in a room that smells like pizza and your fancy-ass body wash.”
“Maybe she wouldn’t have ghosted you if you smelled better.”
“Maybe you could shut your fucking mouth.”
He rolls his eyes as I move toward the door, trying to breathe normally, which is harder than it sounds because every nerve in my body is vibrating toward the woman on the other side.
Cody and I have a flight booked out of Denver tomorrow morning, so I’ve spent the entire evening convincing myself I don’t care that she’s shutting me out.
One knock has unraveled that lie like it was tied by a toddler.
Please, sweet baby Jesus, let it be her, I think as I paste a not-deranged smile on my face and open the door.
Fuck.
It’s not her.
Avah stands in the hallway, looking like a blonde avenging angel as she glares at me from ice-blue eyes. The redhead from Sloane’s book club is next to her with an expression that’s almost kind. I still wouldn’t put it past her to shank me in a back alley if the moment called for it.
“I left her alone today,” I tell Avah, holding my hands up, palms out, before shifting my gaze to her friend. “We didn’t even walk past the bookstore.”
Avah doesn’t acknowledge my words, but her frown deepens. “Did you really write that song for Sloane?”
“He did,” Cody shouts from behind me.
“Shut it,” I say over my shoulder, and then turn back. “I did. But—”
“Can we come in?” the redhead asks. “I’m Molly, by the way. We didn’t officially meet when you crashed our book club meeting.”
“Sure.” I step back to make room. “And nice to meet you.”
“I’ll give you all some privacy.” Cody shoves past the three of us into the hallway with his phone in one hand and a pair of shoes in the other. “Text me when you’re done.”
“This won’t take long,” Avah tells him.
“That’s the rumor about him,” Cody says with a wink. “Don’t forget about the sock, Jensen.”
I bite back a groan as Avah raises a one-hundred-percent judgmental brow in my direction.
“Don’t leave the motel, Cody,” I tell the kid.
“Got it,” he calls, already halfway down the hall.
Molly tips her head toward the door as I close it. “Your friend is a bit extra, huh?” She looks a tick less judgy than Avah, which I appreciate more than she could know.
“Cody and I aren’t exactly friends.” I run a hand through my hair and try not to cringe at how that sounds. “It’s more like a babysitting arrangement. He’s harmless. Just needs to grow up a bit and learn some better boundaries.”
Molly’s mouth lifts at one corner. “And having him play wingman while you track down a woman who ghosted you is teaching boundaries?”
I huff out something that could generously be called a laugh. “I’ve left her alone. If she wants to find me, which I’m hoping she—”
“She’s gone,” Avah interrupts.
I blink as the floor tilts under my feet. “What do you mean? Gone where?”
The two women share a look that says they shouldn’t be here, let alone tell me anything about Sloane’s whereabouts. But they are here, and that means something.
“Where did she go?” I ask again, trying to keep my tone more inquisitive and less sheer desperation.
“Montana,” Avah says.
My mind and heart reel with that piece of information. She ran. Again. “What’s in Montana?”
“More like who’s in Montana,” Molly says.
My chest tightens. “Is it a boyfriend or—”
“No.” Molly shakes her head. “Nothing like that. She’s on a quest to find an author who wrote a book that’s important to her.”
I try to process those words. “Don’t most authors do book signings or events or whatever?”
“Most,” Molly agrees. “But this one is different, and she means a lot to Sloane, who has been through a lot this past year. You know she has cancer, right?”
I nod. It feels strange, and maybe a little fucked up, to be discussing Sloane’s cancer with her friends considering she and I didn’t actually talk about it. But I want them to know I understand what she’s been through. Maybe better than most people, thanks to my mom.
“The couple who ran the cancer caregiver camp told me.” My voice sounds steadier than my pulse, which is a blessing right now. “About her going through treatment for ALL and how that motivated her brother to become involved with their company.”
Avah makes a sound in the back of her throat that’s a mix of the growl she gave me at the bakery and a sigh, if that’s a thing. At least it’s not a full-on growl. “And you still came to find her?”
It’s posed as a question but feels like a test. “I did.”
“Even though all you had with her was a one-night stand.”
“Two nights.” The correction is automatic. I’ve been holding onto those two nights for over a year. I’m not letting anyone short-change them.
“Were all those emotions and the yearning in your song…” Molly’s voice goes soft. “Did you mean them?”
“More specifically,” Avah adds, arms still crossed, “did you mean them in a non-stalkerish way?”
I laugh and look up at the hotel room’s faded ceiling as I drag a hand over my jaw, as if the stubble under my palm can make this whole thing make sense. How do I tell the truth in a way that won’t sound insane?
It’s difficult to explain when I wrote the most confessional lyrics of my career for a woman I barely knew.
I don’t need to know the reason
I don’t need to know the why
I just need the girl who laughed
Like she was learning how for the first time
“I wrote that song in the bar where Sloane and I met. I can promise you I’m not a stalker, but I also went back there every night for a month hoping she’d walk in again.
” I draw in a deep breath. “Don’t ask me to explain why.
I can’t. I kept waiting for the feeling to fade into something rational, but it never did.
And that should scare the hell out of me, but here I am. ”
I expect one or both of them to tell me I’m full of shit. But Avah reaches into the leather purse slung across her chest and pulls out a folded piece of paper, then holds it out to me.
“We’re not going to discuss why I’m giving this to you, but it tells you where Sloane’s going.
She’s heading out from a town called Red Lodge tomorrow morning, hiking to a cabin in the Montana wilderness she’ll reach after a four-night backpacking trip.
She’s alone, and we have no way to reach her unless she powers on the sat phone she has with her. ”
“There’s zero cell service?” My chest feels like a noose is tightening around it.
“She turned off her phone and plans to leave it at the motel where she’s staying tonight,” Molly says, sharing a worried glance with Avah.
I don’t know whether the concern is about Sloane being alone or if she can handle the nights on the trail, but I know these women love her. And they’re giving me the chance I need to find her for real.
My fingers are embarrassingly shaky when I take the paper from Avah.
“Is that safe? Can she—”
Avah holds up a hand, and I shut my mouth. “She’s going to be fine, but we also don’t think she should do this alone.”
Molly bites down on her bottom lip. “It probably goes without saying that she’s going to be pissed as hell if you find her.”
“When I find her.” There’s zero doubt in my mind, and not because I wrote a damn song about it.
Another look passes between the two of them, and I’d call it relief if I had the mental bandwidth to form a coherent thought right now.
“She can handle bears,” Molly says, like she can will that to be true. Her gaze remains fixed on the paper in my hands. “But the woman she’s looking for…we don’t think she’s the person Sloane believes her to be.”
Avah lifts a brow and runs her eyes over me like she’s at the used car lot. “I hope you’re in better shape than a stereotypical country musician.”
I snort. “Is there a stereotype for that?”
“In my mind, there is.”
“I’m going to find her,” I say again, and mean it from my head to my toes. “And I’ll take care of her on this quest, even if she’s done with me for good afterward.”
“What happens after is her choice,” Molly says. “We just don’t want her to be alone right now.”
“And you trust me to be with her?”
Molly’s smile is small, but it reaches her gentle eyes. “Some things can’t be explained, but you know them to be true just the same.”
I nod, and my throat tightens with emotions I’ve buried for a long time. Emotions that scare me way more than a potential bear encounter. But I push them down again, thanking the women as they walk out into the hall.
Sloane’s friends told me how to find her because they love her more than they distrust me. The weight of the assignment I’ve been handed settles deep in my bones. I’ve never wanted to not fail at something so badly. I’ve also never hiked anywhere west of the Mississippi before.
A minute later, the door opens, and Cody slides back in, eyeing me warily. “I assume you survived whatever that was?”
“I’m fine,” I tell him, and he doesn’t question the lie as he shoulders past me.
“Those women were hot but also scary as hell.”
I don’t necessarily disagree, but I’m the mature one here.
And I still can’t quite believe this turn of events.
“Sloane’s in Montana,” I say, ignoring his commentary.
And I’m going after the woman who has consumed my thoughts, both waking and nocturnal, for over a year.
It could be the greatest grand gesture in the history of the world. Or a horrendous mistake.
“I assume that means we’re heading to Montana.
Awesome.” He groans and pushes his balled fists into his eye sockets.
“Sounds like more of a snoozefest than where we are.” Sometimes Cody reminds me so much of my brother—or at least the guy Jamie was before his demons took control—that it makes me ache all over.
“I’m going,” I confirm. “You’re going back to Tennessee.”
“Yes.” He pops up with a fist pump. “I swear to God I’ll keep a low profile. Nashville won’t even know I’m back.”
“True, because you’re not going to Nashville. You’re going to stay with my friend Ford in Whisper Falls.”
“No fucking way.” His face falls so fast I almost feel bad. “Your hometown makes Skylark feel like Vegas on fight night.”
“You know the record company’s deal.” I’m already thumbing a message to Ford. “Lay low and stay out of trouble, or you go to rehab.”
“I’m not going to rehab,” he mutters.
“You’ll love Ford and his wife Kate. She’s a great cook.”
I hit send, although I already know my oldest friend will say yes. I’m counting on it.
“Does she have a hot younger sister?”
“I don’t know, and you don’t care. For the record, Sloane is doing a solo backpacking trip through the Beartooth Mountains. If you want to join me—”
“Whisper Falls sounds great,” he says, landing back on the bed.
Not as great as the thought that I’m going to have another chance with the woman I can’t get out of my head.
While I wait to hear from Ford, I pull up the airline app. There’s a shit-ton of logistics to be handled, and somewhere between now and the first flight to Billings out of Denver tomorrow, I need to turn myself into a man who owns a sleeping bag.
Sloane’s friends trust me enough to help me find her. Now it’s on me to prove I deserve that trust.