Page 18 of Beast of Misty Mountain

“Oh, and to answer your question, it’s getting late in the season for construction work. Though, if you know Leo Swinton down in the Heartland region, you might give him a call. Last I talked to him, business was booming, and he could use more help. You could also track down Costa—don’t know why you didn’t talk to him first.”

I nod. “Thanks. And let me know if you hear of anything.”

There’s a war between my heart and my head. Find Marilee? Or find a new job and hightail it outta town?

I don’t knowwhen I fell asleep that night, but when I woke up, Marilee was gone.

I woke up stiff and cold in the hammock, my scars aching as the sun rose over the trees. I didn’t hear the squeak of the front door. Didn’t hear her car start. I’d been up half the night, tossing and turning, replaying that moment over and over—her body against mine, the kiss that set my soul on fire, the way her eyes lit up when she looked at me like I was everything she wanted.

And then the look in those same eyes when I stopped it. When I stepped back and let fear get the better of me. I curse myself for what’s probably the millionth time in the past twelve hours. As a rule, I don’t let people get close to me. I let people get close, then they die. It’s happened with too many people, not least with my Ranger family. I’m scared of letting people get close, only to lose them, too, so it’s been easier to be a loner.

This hasn’t been a problem. Until Marilee.

I thought she’d be mad. Maybe quiet for a day or two. I didn’t think she’d actually leave.

When I went inside the cabin that morning, it was the kind of quiet that echoes emptiness.

The bedroom was spotless. Sheets in the laundry basket. Blanket folded neatly. Her things gone like she’d never been there at all.

The bathroom barely had a trace of that damn lavender soap–soap I wish was still in my bathroom, along with Marilee.

I head back toward the truck, my boots heavy on the gravel. Jack’s words echo in my ears, but they aren’t louder than the ones already pounding through my head.

You should’ve stopped her.

You should’ve said something.

You wanted her.

I drive aimlessly through town and out onto the highway. I drive out by Whispering Fallsand kill the engine. It’s too early for the tourists and lovebirds to be out here, which suits me fine.

I rest my elbows on the steering wheel and drop my head forward. Did I miss my chance with Marilee? Or is there some chance that I can fix this, no matter how tiny? Can everythingbefixed?

All I know is I have to try.

The parking lotat The Rusty Elk is mostly empty when I pull in, gravel crunching under the tires. There’s music inside, which means the tourists have finished their day of hiking and fishing.

I tell myself I’m here to see Hank about work.

But what I’m really hoping for is her car. I don’t see her car, but I go in anyway. If anyone knows where Marilee is, it’ll be Hank.

Hank’s at the bar, talking to a supplier who’s holding a clipboard and a bottle of root beer. They’re talking about something, but both of them pause when I step in the door.

I stand there until Hank finishes and looks at me. There isn’t kindness in his eyes when he does. He watches me walk up with that quiet, cold stillness I’ve only ever seen when he’s sizing up a problem he already knows the shape of.

“What the fuck did you do to Marilee?” Hank stands up straight and squares his shoulders at me.

I look past him and out to the parking lot, where a new car—not Marilee’s—is pulling in. “She left.”

His jaw ticks, and his voice is angry when he finally speaks. “And you’re here because why exactly?”

“Is she here?”

He folds his arms, gaze fixed on me like he’s deciding whether I deserve an answer. “No. She’s not here. She was, though. You waited how many days to come searching for her?”

The sharpness of his words find their target, and I wince.

Hank shifts his stance, stepping around the bar and standing in my face. We’re eye to eye now, and I brace myself for a fight.

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