Page 39 of Montana Memory

Lark frowned. “Sayswho?”

I hesitated. “Me.”

Lark exhaled, exasperated. “You think he cares about the past you don’t remember? He doesn’t. He cares aboutyou. Who you areright now.”

I wanted to believe that. Desperately. But doubt curled inside me, stubborn and insistent.

“He deserves someone whole,” I admitted. “Not someone who wakes up every day knowing she’s missing huge pieces of herself.”

Lark studied me for a long moment. “You know what I think?”

I lifted a brow.

“I think you’re scared. Not because of what you don’t remember. But because of what youdoknow.”

My throat went tight.

I thought about the past week. About the cabin. About how Hunter had stayed with me every night, how I always woke up tangled in his arms, warm and safe. And how every morning, before things could go anywhere, I slipped out of bed, rushed to the bathroom, and pretended I wasn’t aching for something more.

Lark shook her head. “You’re fighting this way too hard.”

I turned back to the fence, watching Hunter laugh at something Noah said, and wondered if she was right.

Noah and Hunter finished up, leading the dogs back toward their kennels. Hunter moved with that quiet confidence of his, his big hands gentle as he latched a gate behind a German shepherd. Once again, I was struck by howsettledhe looked here. Like this place fit him in a way I wasn’t sure anywhere else did.

Lark dusted off her hands. “Come on, I want to show you something. Or…more like beg for your help.”

Intrigued, I followed her across the yard to a smaller barn set off to the side. She pushed open the heavy wooden door, stepping inside. Then I heard it.

A tiny, high-pitched mewl.

My gaze darted toward a wooden crate in the corner, and my heart did a ridiculous little somersault.

Inside, nestled in a soft pile of blankets, were three of the smallest kittens I’d ever seen.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, dropping to my knees beside the box.

One of them—a tiny gray ball of fluff—lifted its wobbly head and let out another little squeak.

I was gone. Instantly, hopelesslygone.

Lark crouched beside me, her voice gentle. “Their mama died last week.”

“Oh no!” My heart pinched. “That’s awful.”

She nodded. “They’re about nine weeks old and weaned, so that’s good, but they need a quiet place to settle for a bit. Too much activity here.”

I felt the tiny vibration of purring as I lifted one into my hands, pressing my face into its ridiculously soft fur. My entire chest melted.

Then Lark hit me with the kill shot. “Think you’d be willing to take them to your cabin?”

My head snapped up. “Me?”

“They’d only be there for a while,” she said. “Just until we’re sure they’re stable.” She hesitated, watching me. “Hunter’s already on board. Said it’s up to you.”

Something settled inside me at that. He’d known. He’dknownI’d love them.

I looked down at the tiny kitten in my hands, felt its impossibly small paws press against my palm.

---