Page 70 of Montana Memory

Honestly, I could almost see him finding more peace in the therapy animals over at Pawsitive, given how he’d worked with them. But either way, he had people here. People who cared.

It made me realize how much I didn’t.

Not here. Obviously, everyone had put aside their right to be offended by me and accepted me into their presence. But outside of this room of people who had every right to hate me, who did I have?

No one had filed a missing person report when I disappeared. If they had, Jace would have found it.

He said I had no family, aside from my brother in prison. Obviously, no friends, since no one was looking for me. If Hunter hadn’t found me in that cabin, and I’d wandered out into the woods and died on my own, I wasn’t sure anyone in the world would’ve really cared.

Suddenly, the noise of the room turned suffocating. The easy laughter, the talking all over one another, the casual touches—everything tightened around me until I couldn’t breathe.

The scrape of chairs pulled me back. The men were standing, gathering plates, carrying them to the kitchen as the women shifted toward the living room. Evelyn with a little girl at her side and a baby boy in her arms. Someone mentioned dessert. Someone else laughed. Kenzie caught my eye and motioned for me to follow. I nodded.

But then, when no one was looking, I took a detour down the hallway and slipped out the back door. The cold Montana air hit me like a slap, but I welcomed it. I took another step, pulled in another breath. Then another.

Maybe I should keep walking. Maybe I should leave altogether. Maybe I should leave those people inside to their gentle happiness and almost tangible love.

Because I didn’t deserve it.

Chapter 23

Jada

Once the idea of leaving was in my head, I couldn’t seem to shake it. I wished I’d gone out the front door, grabbing my coat on the way. If I wanted to make a run for it, I’d have to go all the way around, and even then—what was I going to do? Steal Hunter’s truck? The thought was almost laughable. Almost.

I shoved my hands into the sleeves of my sweater, curling my fingers into the soft fabric like I could anchor myself. I should go back to Denver. Back to whatever was left of my life. Back to my car, my apartment—if I still had one. I hadn’t even gotten all the details from Jace.

I had to go. But how?

I couldn’t just disappear without a word. Not after everything Hunter had done. Not after the people inside had—God help me—started treating me like I belonged here.

But I couldn’t stay either.

A soft scuff of boots against gravel sent a jolt of panic through me. I whirled, my pulse slamming against my ribs, but it wasn’t Hunter.

It was Evelyn.

Lucas’s wife stood just outside the lodge’s back door on the porch, my jacket crossed over her arms, her expression calm. If she was surprised to find me sneaking around outside like some kind of runaway, she didn’t show it.

“Everything okay?” she asked, her voice quiet but firm. She held out my jacket.

I walked back to her and took it, forcing a nod, shifting my weight from foot to foot like I could outrun the conversation. “Yeah. Just needed some air. No need to worry.” I offered a tight smile. “Didn’t mean to set off an alarm or anything.”

Evelyn didn’t react to my obvious deflection. She stepped forward, her gaze steady. “I don’t know you very well, Jada. But from where I was standing, it looked like you were about to bolt.”

A humorless laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “With no memory, I don’t know myself either.”

She didn’t so much as blink at the bitterness in my tone, just studied me for a long moment. The silence stretched between us, and something about the way she looked at me made my throat tighten. As if she wasn’t just seeing me—she was understanding me. And I hated that.

Because I couldn’t understand myself.

I turned away, staring out at the darkness beyond the lodge, wishing I could disappear into it. “I don’t belong here,” I admitted finally. The words tasted like defeat. “I was actually planning to take off.” I gestured vaguely toward the front of the lodge, let out a small, humorless huff. “But I can’t even do that right, seeing as I don’t have a car.”

There it was. The ugly truth. I’d been ready to run. Again.

Even after everything Hunter had done for me. After everything these people had given me—kindness, safety, a place to exist without judgment—I still couldn’t let myself have it.

Evelyn nodded, like I’d just confirmed something she already knew. “I get it.”

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