Page 22 of Max Bannon

Her laughter floated up the drive as she got out of the Jeep—light, practiced, the kind of sound you made when you didn’t want anyone to ask if you were okay.

She thanked Eloise for helping her unload her things, waved off Gabe’s attempt to carry the single lamp she insisted she could handle, and made her way toward the cabin like it wasn’t breaking my damn heart to watch her go.

She looked happy, like the move was just a normal step. Like everything was fine.

But I knew better.

Because I hadn’t seen her real smile since yesterday afternoon.

And I couldn’t stop replaying the sound of her feet walking away from me after dinner last night.

I stood on the porch with a wrench in my hand, pretending to fix something on the railing. But my eyes kept drifting back to her as she carried a box inside and came back out for another. One after the other, quiet and steady. Efficient.

She was pulling away, and I could feel it like a weight in my chest.

I wanted to go to her. Say something.Anything.But I still didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to say.

Sorry I kissed you like you meant something to me.

Sorry I didn’t mean to fall for you, but I think I might have.

Sorry I’m still too scared to do this, even when every part of me wants to.

She paused halfway through the last trip and glanced toward the porch. Our eyes met.

Her expression didn’t change. No wave. No smile. Just a simple, unreadable glance like I was someone she used to know.

Then she turned and disappeared inside.

I stood there for a long time after that, holding a wrench I didn’t need, watching the cabin like it might give me an answer I hadn’t already tried to bury.

And all I could think was—

I let her walk away.

And I didn’t stop her.

12

Tessa

The last box hit the floor with a dull thud.

I stood there for a second, hands on my hips, looking around at my new cabin like I was waiting for it to feel like home. Like something would click inside me and say,Yes. This is good. This is yours.

It didn’t.

It just felt… quiet.

Too quiet.

I closed the door gently behind me and let out the breath I’d been holding since I left the B&B. Since Max told me—casually, like it didn’t mean anything—that my cabin would be ready today.

Like we were just roommates. Acquaintances. Strangers who shared a few nights and nothing else.

I dropped onto the edge of the bed and stared at the box marked“Books + Random T-Rex Mug”in big blue letters. I didn’t move to unpack it.

I didn’t move at all.

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