Page 48 of Montana Memory

For a long second, no one spoke. The crisp morning air stretched between us, filled with nothing but the rustling trees and the occasional distant whinny from the horse paddock.

Lucas tipped his head toward the empty chair across from him. “Sit down. Have some coffee first.”

Everything in me told me to walk away. Get in the truck. Keep moving. Instead, I gritted my teeth and dropped into the damn chair. My hands flexed on my thighs, my knee bounced, restless energy coiling tight in my muscles.

Lachlan still didn’t say anything, but his sharp gaze flicked between me and Lucas. I’d met the man a few times before—he was a good guy. Solid, straight shooter. Mostly, Lucas and the Resting Warrior guys dealt with Charlie Garcia, Garnet Bend’s sheriff, but rumor was, he was retiring. So Lachlan had been around more and more.

Lucas poured a cup of coffee, set it on the small table. I didn’t touch it. My stomach was already a wreck, a lead weight sitting low, dragging me down.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, studying me like he had all the time in the world. “Why are you leaving?”

I kept my eyes on the horizon. “It’s just time to go.”

Lucas hummed. “That so?”

I exhaled sharply, shoving a hand through my hair. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to sit here and explain myself like I owed anyone an answer. Not that the answer was that complicated. I was a fuckup, and everyone was better off if I left. Especially Jada.

“Did you and Jada fight?” Lucas pressed.

I shook my head.

He let out a sigh. “Then it doesn’t add up.”

I finally looked at him. “It doesn’t have to.”

Lucas didn’t blink. Just stared at me like he was waiting for me to stop bullshitting. I ground my teeth together, the words lodged somewhere deep in my chest.

Lachlan was the one who finally spoke. “You’re running.”

My shoulders went tight.

Lucas took a slow sip of his coffee. “Yeah, and I’d love to know why. This is definitely more than your normal itch to get to a new place.”

I set my jaw, the inside of my head a damn war zone. This was the problem with being around people who actually knew you. They didn’t just let you walk away without making you bleed first.

I scraped a hand over my face, breathing hard. “I had an episode,” I finally said, voice rough. “PTSD.”

Lucas’s expression didn’t change. “Go on.”

The words tasted like rust. “I hurt Jada.” My throat felt tight. “Not on purpose. I was…still in a dream. Didn’t know it was her. She tried to wake me up, and I—” My stomach twisted. “I grabbed her. Left bruises.”

Neither of them reacted. No wide eyes, no exclamations. Just quiet understanding. And somehow it pissed me off. Maybe because they weren’t surprised.

“How’d she handle it?” Lachlan asked after a beat.

I swallowed hard. Thought back to last night and the way she’d stayed. Stood with me in that shower until the water turned cold.

She hadn’t been afraid. She hadn’t run. I’d been the one coming apart, shaking, lost in the fog of my own goddamn head, and she’d been solid. Talking to me, grounding me, bringing me back like it was the most natural thing in the world. This woman who had known me all of two weeks.

“She wasn’t scared,” I admitted, voice low. “She—” I exhaled sharply. “She was calm. Talked me through it.”

Lucas set his cup down, watching me carefully. “Did she ask you to leave?”

I shook my head.

“Then what’s the problem?”

I let out a bitter laugh. “The problem is that there was no damn trigger.”

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