Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
Morning light spilled softly across the cabin, warm and golden, cutting through the space that told me that Dean had been here—yet had already gone.
His side of the bed was empty, the sheets still warm where his body had been.
For a moment, I just lay there, my hand resting against the dent his weight had made in the mattress, wishing time could rewind just a few hours.
Then I saw it—on the nightstand, a single daisy laid across a folded note.
Good morning, beautiful.
You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t have the heart to wake you. Mason and I didn’t get as much done last night as we’d planned, so we’re meeting again this morning.
If I don’t see you before then, we’ll meet at the closing dinner. I can’t wait to see you all dressed up again. Try not to outshine everyone this time.
Dean
A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips, but it was fragile, wavering beneath the weight of everything I was feeling this morning. I traced the edge of the paper with my fingertips before setting it back down.
George lifted his head from the foot of the bed, tail thumping lazily against the floorboards before he stood and padded over, nudging my hand with his nose.
“You need to go out, huh?” I whispered.
He wagged his tail, then trotted toward the door with that eager bounce that never failed to make me smile—except this morning, the sound of his nails clicking against the floor just made the silence feel louder. Made the time in this place, with Dean and George, feel fleeting.
I threw on a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts and stepped outside.
The air was crisp, filled with the scent of pine and the faint echo of laughter somewhere far off in the distance.
I lifted my face to the sky and inhaled, letting the cool morning air fill my lungs, steadying me in a way that felt almost like peace.
For a moment, it was just me—the quiet hum of nature, the whisper of wind through the trees—until a voice broke through the stillness.
“Morning, dear,” someone called.
I startled, my breath catching as I turned toward the sound. Dean’s grandmother was making her way along the path, her scarf loose around her neck, her stride surprisingly graceful for someone her age. She smiled, in that gentle, knowing way that carried both strength and softness.
“Come walk with me?” she asked.
“Oh, I—” I hesitated, glancing toward George, who was already nosing through the bushes.
She waved a hand dismissively. “You can bring him along if you’d like. I could use the company.”
But the way she kept walking, not waiting for an answer, made it clear I didn’t really have a choice.
Reluctantly, I nodded. “Okay.” Then rushed to fall into step beside her.
The quiet between us stretched comfortably at first. Our breath fogged in the cool morning air, each exhale mingling then disappearing.
The forest was alive around us—birds calling from the branches, sunlight filtering through the pines, even the ground seemed to hum beneath our feet.
George trotted ahead, tail wagging, stopping every few steps to investigate something new.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Mrs. McHenry said after a while, her voice soft but certain.
I nodded, swallowing past the tightness in my throat. “It is.”
For a moment, I just let myself look—really look—at everything. The dappled light through the trees. The shimmer of dew clinging to the grass. George’s happy, oblivious tail wagging away. And somewhere behind all that beauty was the ache of knowing that these were my last moments here.
“I’m going to miss it,” I said softly. But even as the words left my mouth, I knew I didn’t just mean the lodge. It was Dean. It was George. It was this strange, unexpected sense of belonging—to something that felt like family.
Mrs. McHenry smiled faintly. “It does that,” she said, her voice calm and sure. “There’s something about this place that speaks to your soul. You can’t quite name it, but you feel it all the same.”
I nodded, my gaze drifting over the trees swaying gently in the morning breeze.
“This land,” she continued, “was the first place where Dean seemed to come alive again after his parents died. He was just a boy—quiet, careful, older than his years. Charles used to take him down to the dock in the evenings, and I’d watch from the porch as they fished in silence.
He never said much, but something about this place…
it softened him. Healed him in ways even we couldn’t. ”
Her tone softened, touched with sorrow. “Losing people that young—it leaves scars you can’t always see. For Dean, those scars whispered a cruel kind of truth: that everyone leaves eventually. So, he learned to love carefully. To keep his heart where no one could break it.”
My throat ached.
“For a long time, I wasn’t sure he’d ever let himself truly fall in love. He was caring, always—generous, thoughtful—but guarded. As if loving too much meant risking everything he’d built to survive, and he wasn’t going to do it.”
The path curved back toward the cabins, sunlight filtering gold through the trees.
“That’s why I was so delighted when I heard about you, Vivienne,” she said softly.
“When he told us he was engaged, I don’t think I’d ever been so happy.
Seeing you two together this week…” Her smile wavered, tender and full of hope.
“It’s been the highlight of my life, dear.
Because I know now—he’s finally learned to open his heart. ”
Her words landed like a weight I couldn’t carry, heavy and undeserved.
Mrs. McHenry slowed and reached for my hand, her grip gentle but sure. “Thank you for walking with me,” she said. “And thank you for loving my boy.”
She released my hand and turned down the path toward her cabin, the soft crunch of gravel fading until she was gone.
For a long moment, I just stood there, her words echoing in my chest with a quiet ache. If only she knew the truth.
George trotted ahead, bounding up the steps to our porch. Then, without hesitation, he slipped through the slightly open door, leaving me standing there alone beneath the rising sun.
My pulse quickened.
Dean.
I took the steps two at a time, a smile already tugging at my lips before the words even left my mouth. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you until dinner—”
But the rest caught in my throat.
Mason stood in the kitchen, his back to me, as he rifled through something on the counter. He swore when he heard my voice, then spun to face me.
“I knocked,” he said quickly, his cheeks coloring. “The door was unlocked. Dean asked me to grab some files from his briefcase—”
My gaze flicked toward the living room, where Dean’s briefcase sat, half-unzipped on the couch. Mason paused, following my line of vision, and let out a relieved breath.
“You’d never know Dean was a Boy Scout,” he muttered with a short laugh. “His directions are shit.”
He crossed the room toward the couch, crouched beside it, and started rummaging through the case. The sound of papers shifting filled the silence.
“Here it is,” he said finally, pulling out a black binder before straightening to his full height. “Sorry if I startled you.”
I forced a smile, though my pulse hadn’t quite settled. “It’s fine.”
Still, something about the moment made my skin prickle—the way he kept glancing around the room, or how his laugh didn’t quite reach his eyes.
But I shoved the thought aside almost instantly.
I was the one lying, after all. The one keeping secrets.
Of course, everything felt off—you couldn’t stand on a week’s worth of lies and expect the world not to shift.
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, forcing a steadier tone. “See you at dinner?” I asked.
He nodded once, flashing that easy grin. “Yeah. Wouldn’t miss it.”
Then he closed the door behind him, and the silence that followed felt heavier than before—pressing against my ribs until I could hardly breathe.
For a long moment, I just stood there, listening—to the hum of the refrigerator, to George’s nails clicking across the floor—but something in the air felt off.
George wandered to his bowl, and even the rhythmic crunch of kibble put me on edge. I exhaled slowly, trying to shake the tension from my spine. You’re overreacting. He just needed files.
I turned toward the bathroom—but stopped short.
My purse sat open on the kitchen counter, and a prickle of unease crept up my spine. I stepped closer, seeing my wallet on top, my ID angled awkwardly, only halfway tucked in.
The air went thin in that instant.
“Oh God,” I whispered.
I didn’t think. I just moved—pushing out the door before I even knew where I was going. My feet hit the steps, then the dirt path, my breath became ragged before I even got to the trail.
I wasn’t sure if I was trying to find Dean or stop Mason before he found him—but either way, I had to run.
The business center came into view a few minutes later. I hurried up the steps, yanking the door open so hard it slammed against the wall. My eyes swept the room—desks, chairs, scattered papers—searching for any sign of them.
The smell of stale coffee and printer ink lingered in the air, proof they’d been there not long ago.
“Dammit,” I whispered.
My pulse thundered as I sprinted out the door. Every step landed hard, each one echoing the same frantic thought—He saw my ID. He knows who I am.
By the time the lodge came into view, my lungs were burning.
Staff were already busy on the deck, preparing for the evening’s festivities.
The dance floor gleamed under the late morning sun.
I slowed, keeping close to the deck as I circled around back.
My shoes made too much noise as I climbed the steps and slipped through the side entrance.
Inside, the lobby was quiet—too quiet. Only a few workers moved about, setting fresh centerpieces as they talked in low voices.
Then I heard it.
A sharp clipped conversation—coming from the kitchen.