Page 74 of Montana Memory

“Let go for me,” he commanded, his voice strained.

The tension inside me coiled tighter, hotter, until it finally shattered. I cried out his name as waves of release washed over me. Hunter followed moments later, his body shuddering against mine as we both collapsed onto the bed.

There was no running after this. There was no turning back. Hunter Everett wasn’t just someone I wanted.

He was mine.

Chapter 24

Hunter

We didn’t leave the cabin for three days.

It had been just Jada and me with the kittens—Sir Pounce, Biscuits, and Moose. Three days of peace, three days of talking, three days of making plans together.

Three days of absolutely mind-blowing sex.

We both knew it might be too soon to be feeling the way we did, but we were both tired of fighting it. We’d rather fight the world back-to-back with each other instead.

Now, I was two states away, back in Denver, a city I’d only ever tolerated on a good day, and my skin itched like I’d left something behind. Which, yeah, I had. Jada.

I missed her. A feeling I wasn’t used to but surprisingly didn’t mind.

She had finally gotten access to her savings account, thanks to Jace working whatever cyber voodoo he did. I watched the tension melt from her shoulders as we’d transferred the funds into something she could access. For the first time innearly a month, she had some independence. Didn’t need to ask for money if she wanted something. Didn’t feel completely powerless.

That look on her face—that breath of relief—it gutted me. I should’ve realized earlier how hard this had been on her. But I wasn’t sure she’d even been aware of it herself.

We’d decided it was time to close down the rest of her old life. Get what we could and let her decide if it would go with her into her new life. That involved me flying to Denver. I’d be driving her car back. She couldn’t fly since we still needed to get her an ID, but we were hoping there were some items in her apartment—a passport, birth certificate—that would help with that.

We hadn’t wanted to wait, so I’d come alone. Forty-eight hours and I’d be back to her. Even if I had to break in to her apartment.

I hadn’t.

The building manager was a sucker for a good smile and a laminated badge.

I’d walked into Jada’s apartment complex in jeans and a button-down, fake credentials—thanks to Jace—clipped to my belt, and my most forgettable body language on display. Just another city maintenance guy who happened to be having a good hair day.

By the time I reached her floor, I had a spare keycard in hand and a scribbled visitor log that read “building inspection.” Jace had worked his magic with the badge and the access. All I had to do was smile and not look like I could kill a man with a pencil.

The door clicked open without a fuss.

I stepped into the quiet stillness of her apartment.

It didn’t feel like anyone lived here.

Most places told you something. A scattered jacket, framed photos, an overflowing mug rack with obnoxious slogans. Butthis place…it was surface-level clean. Staged. Like she’d been playing house in a life that didn’t belong to her.

I found the firebox first, which was probably most important—birth certificate, passport, social security card, deed to her car. Those things would make getting further IDs much easier.

Then I started to search for things she might want.

I moved through the rooms methodically. The bedroom closet held clothes—decent brands, a lot of black and navy, like she was trying not to be noticed. I grabbed everything that looked like it might fit, folding them into the duffel I’d brought.

A couple pairs of running shoes. A hoodie that still held the faintest trace of perfume. That went into the bag too.

There wasn’t much else. No framed pictures. No bookshelf. No trinkets or old ticket stubs or anything that hinted at a life she’d loved.

I checked under the bed, behind drawers, even the freezer. Nothing.

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