Page 86 of Montana Memory

Chapter 27

Hunter

I killed the engine of Jada’s car and sat outside the cabin for a beat, letting the silence settle before pushing the door open.

The sun hadn’t fully crested the trees yet, but pale gold light bled over the horizon and across the cabin’s gravel drive. My legs and back were feeling it from driving all night, but none of that mattered. I just needed to see Jada.

I’d called twice—maybe three times—on the road up from Colorado, but there hadn’t been any answer. I figured she was working at Pawsitive Connections and keeping herself busy. Lark didn’t like phones in the animal barn. Fair enough.

I twisted the key in the door and stepped inside. The place was quiet. Still. But not the kind of still you got in the early morning when everything was just starting to wake up. This was…off.

I didn’t move at first. Just stood inside the door and listened. Nothing. I crouched beside the cardboard box we’d tucked in thecorner and found it empty. Had she decided to sleep with them? That had happened once.

“Jada?” I called, already heading down the short hall to the bedroom. The door was open, lights off, bed made. No sign of her.

I backed out slowly, hands on my hips, brain shifting gears. Maybe she got called in to Pawsitive early. Could she have taken the kittens with her?

I needed to try to call her again. I started to turn, but then?—

Meow.

I froze. Another tiny meow followed it, coming from somewhere low and to the right. I dropped to my knees and tilted my head under the couch.

All three kittens were wedged together under there, eyes wide, trembling little bodies curled into one another like they were hiding from the boogeyman.

“Hey,” I murmured. “What are you guys doing under there?”

I coaxed them out one by one, brushing dirt off their fur as I placed them back in their box. Once in their normal spot, Moose and Biscuits almost immediately curled in on one another and went to sleep. Sir Pounce just looked at me with his big eyes, so I picked him back up.

Balancing the kitten in the crook of my arm, I had my phone out to call Jada again when I saw the note centered on the counter. Just a scrap of notebook paper. Torn edge. Folded once, slanted handwriting in pen.

I shifted the kitten again and reached for it, hand already twitching before I’d even unfolded the damn thing.

I couldn’t stay.

I’ve decided this isn’t what I want.

That was it. Ten words plus her name. No salutation. No explanation.

Just a blow straight to the gut.

I stared at the note, waiting for the words to rearrange themselves into something that made sense. They didn’t. I read it again anyway. Then again.

I’ve decided this isn’t what I want.

My jaw clenched as I looked around, suddenly seeing the kitchen with clearer eyes. Jada’s bag was gone, as well as her coat.

I set the kitten back into the box with his siblings and turned slowly toward the corner of the counter. The vial was still there. Unmoved, resting against the back of the kitchen counter. My gut clenched at the sight of it. She hadn’t decided to take the antidote—thank God.

But I had to admit I was surprised she’d left that behind. The last we’d talked, she was against taking it but still hadn’t discounted it completely. I couldn’t believe she’d robbed herself of the option by leaving it here.

I couldn’t believe I was so pathetic to think that if it was still here, maybe she’d come back to get it. Maybe I could talk some sense into her. Maybe we could work through whatever had spooked her and figure it out together.

I rubbed a hand down my face and stepped out the front door. My truck was still right where I parked it. Which begged a whole new question—how the hell did she leave?

And why hadn’t she waited one more day for me to return? She would’ve had so much more. Her car. Her clothes. Her passport, birth certificate, insurance papers.

Unless this whole time, she’d been waiting for me to go so she could run.

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