Chapter 10
TEN
KENDRICK
“Let’s get out of this town,” I say, the thought popping into my head out of nowhere. “Drive out of the city. Away from the crowd.”
Justin snorts at me and raises the beer to his lips. “Only you would call a town of our size a city.”
I line up a pool shot I should be able to make in my sleep. I miss by a mile.
Justin whistles low. “Wow. You’re terrible tonight.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“No, really,” Evan adds from the bar. “It’s impressive. Like watching someone play left-handed with their eyes closed.”
Wyatt throws a dart without looking. It lands cleanly in the outer bullseye. “Man’s lovesick.”
“I’m not lovesick,” I say.
Everyone at the table: “Sure.”
I grip the cue a little too tight.
This was supposed to be a distraction—guys’ night because Aaron is on his honeymoon and Justin didn’t want me brooding alone in my cabin.
Instead it feels like the worst idea anyone’s ever had.
The tavern is loud and cheerful and full of energy, which is exactly the opposite of what’s happening inside my chest.
Justin leans on his cue, studying me. “What time is it?”
“Midnight,” I grumble.
Also known as two hours and fifty-five minutes since Emma boarded her red-eye out of Anchorage. Back to New York. Back to her life. And then on to whatever wild, beautiful place she’ll chase next—maybe Iceland, maybe Nicaragua.
None of them are here.
“Or close to here,” I mutter under my breath.
Wyatt’s expression softens. “Sorry, man.”
“Don’t be,” I say. “She told me she was leaving.”
Justin eyes me. “But you didn’t believe she meant it.”
I don’t answer, which answers everything.
The door swings open behind us. All the guys glance over. A tall figure steps in—broad shouldered, dark hair, a duffel bag slung over one arm. New face. New build. Definitely not from around here.
Justin perks up. “Brendon, right?”
The guy nods, crossing the room. “Yeah. Captain texted me. Said some of the crew hangs out here.”
“Welcome to Swift Mountain Fire,” Evan says, clinking his beer against Brendon’s. “Ignore everything Kendrick looks like right now. He’s usually less… murder-adjacent.”
I glare. “I don’t look murder-adjacent.”
Brendon studies me for half a second and says, deadpan: “You kind of do.”
Wyatt nods solemnly. “He’s right.”
Brendon tosses his bag aside and pulls up a chair. “So what’s got you twisted up?”
Justin points his cue at me. “Woman trouble.”
“Tree climber,” Evan clarifies.
Brendon raises an eyebrow. “The hell does that mean?”
“Don’t encourage them,” I mutter.
But the guys are already talking over each other, recounting the tree incident, the brushfire, the muffins, the hike. Brendon absorbs it all with that quiet, steady attention that says he’ll fit in here just fine.
Justin nudges me. “You want to go another round?”
“No,” I say. “I’m calling it.”
Evan groans. “Already? We just got here.”
“Yeah,” I say, grabbing my jacket. “I’m done.”
I don’t wait for further commentary. I step out into the cold, the night air biting sharp against my skin. It’s quieter out here. Still. Too still.
I head toward the truck, digging for my keys—
When my radio crackles.
“Unit Three, locate status?”
Justin’s voice, but clipped. Tense.
I lift the radio. “Out front of the tavern.”
“Good,” he says. “Because you need to get to the station.”
My pulse kicks. “What happened?”
“You’ll want to see it for yourself,” Justin replies, and there’s a tone there—warm, knowing, impossible to misinterpret. “Hurry.”
I don’t think. I drive.
The station lights glow soft and gold as I pull in. I barely put the truck in park before climbing out and striding toward the bay.
The door opens before I reach it.
She steps out.
Emma.
My heart stops. Actually stops.
She’s standing under the overhead lights with her camera bag slung over one shoulder, hair mussed from travel, cheeks flushed from the cold, eyes shining in a way that hits me so hard I forget how to breathe.
“Kendrick,” she whispers.
I walk toward her. Slow at first. Then faster. Then fast enough that she takes a small breath like she’s absorbing the impact before I even reach her.
“You came back,” I say, voice rougher than I meant.
“I had to.” She swallows, hands shaking slightly as she reaches up to touch my chest. “I kept trying to tell myself I could move on. That what we had—what we were—was just temporary. But it wasn’t. Not for me.”
She steps closer, her forehead nearly touching mine. “You’re what I kept seeing. Even when I didn’t want to.”
My chest cracks wide open.
“I love you.” The words come out broken, raw, truer than anything I’ve ever said. I cradle her cheeks in both hands, my thumbs brushing the corners of her mouth. “I love you so much that I don’t want to do life without you.”
Her bottom lip trembles, but she catches it with her teeth. “I don’t want to do life without you either.”
She says it like a vow. Like a truth she’s finally stopped running from.
“What do we do?” she whispers. “We’re on such different paths.”
“Simple.” I shake my head, jaw tight with conviction. “We make a new path. Actually, it won’t be simple at all. We’ll have to work at it. We might take a wrong turn or two and have to change our course along the way.”
I slide my thumb under her lip, pulling it free from her teeth. “But I have no doubts we’ll find our way.”
Her eyes shine. “Together?”
“Together.” I lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead, soft and certain. “So, what do you say? Are you willing to forge a new path with me?”
A slow smile blooms across her face—warm, bright, lighting her eyes in the glow of the station lights. “You know me. I’ve never been interested in taking the easy path.”
“And you have one hell of a sense of adventure.” I wrap my arms around her waist and draw her against me. “Is that a yes?”
“How can I possibly say no to a promise of a challenge?”
A low laugh escapes me—real, relieved, joyful. I lower my lips to hers, capturing them in a deep, soul-stirring kiss.
We lose ourselves in the kiss and in each other.
Like I told her, I’m sure it won’t be the only time we get lost. But I know—we’ll find our way as long as we’re side by side.
I don’t know what our future holds.
But I should probably get a passport.