Page 47 of Montana Memory

Hunter

As the sun came up through the window, Jada was warm against me, her body soft, tucked into mine like she belonged there. Like we belonged. For a second, I let myself believe it.

Her slow, even breaths whispered against my chest, and I tightened my arms around her, just for a heartbeat, absorbing the peace. The quiet. The rare, foreign feeling of having something good. Remembering how she’d felt around me. Her sighs. Her moans.

Then I remembered the rest.

The way she’d gasped in pain.

The way I’dthrownher.

I inhaled sharply, my chest going tight as the memory clawed its way back—too fast, too real. My nightmare, Jada reaching for me, me not recognizing her in that second of blind panic. I’d grabbed her before I’d even woken up.

My pulse pounded in my ears. I forced myself to slow down. To breathe. I forced myself tolook.

The bruises on her arms were faint in the low light, but they were there. Ugly, dark smudges against her smooth skin. Proof of what I’d done. A weight settled in my gut, sharp and cold.

This was the very thing I’d been afraid of. I wasn’t always in control of myself. I needed to go. I should’ve never stayed this long.

She was better off without me.

Sliding carefully out of bed, I held my breath as Jada shifted, murmuring something unintelligible before settling again. I took a second to memorize her like this—peaceful, untouched by the mess of me.

Then I grabbed my bag from the corner of the room. It was still packed. Of course it was. I never unpacked. Three years of wandering from place to place had taught me it was easier to just keep what I needed in my duffel and backpack, ready to go.

Jada had started making a place for herself here. Maybe it had been instinctual, but I’d watched her put her things away, watched her carve out space in the small cabin like she was laying down roots.

I pulled on my jeans, shoved my boots on, then sat on the edge of the small wooden table near the window, staring at the blank page of the notebook Jada had left there. I picked up a pen but wasn’t sure what the hell to say.

My hand tightened around the pen, then I scrawled out the words before I could think better of it.

I can’t stay. I’m sorry.

It wasn’t enough. Not nearly. But it was all I had. I tore the page out, folded it once, then set it on the nightstand where she’d see it when she woke up.

I didn’t look at her again. Because I knew if I did, I might not leave. And leaving was the only option.

I stepped out into the early morning air, the cabin door clicking shut behind me. The chill hit my skin, sharp and bracing, but it didn’t wash away the disgust crawling under my skin.

I climbed into the truck and pulled onto the dirt road. Every instinct screamed at me to take off without talking to anyone, but I couldn’t do that. Not to Jada and not to Lucas. My cousin had offered shelter when he hadn’t had to. To take off with no word would be a slap in the face. Even I wasn’t that big of an asshole.

By the time I pulled up to the Resting Warrior Ranch lodge a few minutes later, my jaw was locked tight, my fingers stiff around the wheel.

Lucas was exactly where I expected him to be at dawn—on the porch, coffee in hand, gaze sharp as ever. Next to him sat Lachlan Callaway, the Garnet Bend deputy, his own cup resting on the porch railing as he studied me with that unreadable cop expression.

Lucas didn’t say a word at first. Just gave me that look. The kind that made it clear he already knew something was wrong. My cousin had been giving me that look our whole lives.

I killed the engine, shoved the door open, and stepped out before I could rethink this.

“You’re up early,” he finally said, voice even.

“I’m leaving.” No point in dragging it out. “Just wanted you to know. Jada doesn’t have a car—she’ll need someone to check in on her. But mostly, she’s been hanging out over at Pawsitive Connections with Lark, so she’ll be fine.”

Lucas’s expression didn’t change much, but he set his coffee down carefully, like the words needed a little extra space to settle. Lachlan didn’t say anything. Just watched.

Lucas exhaled through his nose. “And that’s it? Just like that, you’re gone again?”

“Just like that.” My cousin was used to it by now.

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