There was a reason I didn’t drink on work nights anymore, and that reason had caused an ache in my head that had plagued me all damn day.

“How you doing, boss?” Gage said as he strolled into my office. The bastard had a smile on his face and looked as if he’d gotten a solid night’s sleep instead of just a handful of hours. Playing off my hangover was going to take more energy than I probably had, but I’d try.

“Good, just going over some notes. You get everything squared away on the skidder?”

The skidder was a machine we used to pull the trees from where they fell to where we’d delimb, cut, and extract them. We’d gotten a call from the Hansen jobsite that the thing had stopped working, and his mechanic on site couldn’t fix it. Gage had run out to Widow’s Ridge to see what he could do.

“Yeah. Damn thing hung up dragging a log up the ridge because of the angle. We had to move it to a new location to ease the strain.”

I’d kill for something that would ease the strain in my head. “Good, good. What else you got for me?”

“Someone in town has requested hospice care.”

Not what I had expected him to say. Ever. “Why would you know this?”

He raised a bushy eyebrow at me. “I know people.”

“You’ve lived here like five minutes, and you know people? As in, better than I do?” So maybe he’d lived in Justice for five years, not minutes. Same thing around here.

Gage sat back and gave me a cocky sort of smile, barely moving the dark forest of hair on his face. “I can’t help it if I like to make sure everything runs smooth around here. It’s sort of why you hired me.”

Technically, we’d hired him as a mechanic for our machines. True, he’d had no experience with the skidders, loaders, or delimbers we used in our operation, but that hadn’t mattered. Gage could fix anything, and he’d been a loyal and trusted friend in my SEAL unit. It wouldn’t have mattered if he’d never held a chainsaw or a wrench—when I left the SEALs, I brought him with me.

“Who’s the patient?” I asked, thinking over all the residents of Justice who might need end-of-life care. The list was pretty damn short.

“Doesn’t say, but they gave me the location.”

“Where?”

Gage frowned again, and my stomach turned. The feeling of something not good coming my way slammed over me and held me in its cold, hard grip as I waited for him to say the words.

“Widow’s Ridge.”

Every bit of air left my lungs, all my blood pooling in my shoes. Only one residence was left up that way—the Hansen place, which meant Miss was sick.

Miss Hansen had been a staple in our town when I’d been a kid. Strong, loud, and fiery, the older woman had commanded attention whenever she’d walked in a room. Rumor had it she practiced witchcraft out on that ridge all by herself, but I’d known better. Because just as I was starting my senior year of high school, Miss Hansen found out she had a granddaughter, and my life had changed forever.

Anabeth Monroe—born to Miss Hansen’s late daughter—had spent most of her childhood in foster care, having no idea there was family out there who would have happily taken her in. By the time Miss had found out she even existed, Anabeth had been through the system enough to have walls a mile thick around her.

I’d spent two years busting those fuckers down. I’d spent another two falling in love with the red-haired woman with the vibrant smile and almost preternatural ability to know what I was thinking.

I’d spent the last almost fifteen avoiding any mention or memory of her.

“I knew Miss was sick, but I didn’t think it’d gotten bad enough for all that.” I stared down at the desktop, thoughts of summers in the forest and red hair sprawled out on the grass inundating me and making my head pound even harder. Fuck, that girl always did have the worst timing.

“Something you want to tell me about this lady? Every time her name is brought up, you get a weird look on your face. Weirder than your normal face.”

I huffed a pained sort of laugh. “That’s not Miss—she’s amazing.”

“Rumor around town is that she’s a witch.”

So he’d heard the same thing that had been flying around since I’d been a kid. Funny how those whispered lies tended to stick. “Nah, at least, not like you’re thinking. She’s more of a spiritualist.” My throat tightened and the words felt stuck as I added, “I dated her granddaughter.”

“Okay.” Gage sat still and calm, silent. Watching me with those dark eyes as if he could see into my soul and pluck out all my secrets. I’d never told him about Anabeth, never admitted how much she’d destroyed me. Hell, I’d never told anyone. Alder knew a little because he’d been the one to pick me up out of the gutter, but that was it. And I wasn’t ready to go back down that road just yet.

“Your friend tell you who called in for assistance?” Because if Anabeth was back in town, I needed to get the fuck out before I fell right back into that old trap.

Gage waited, still watching me, but I didn’t fall for that tactic. He could sit like a statue all fucking day—I wasn’t opening my mouth.

After almost a minute, he must have figured that out. He picked up his phone again, pressing on the screen until he found what he wanted. “No identity of the caller. They don’t have a volunteer available to head out that way for another few hours, so they were asking if one of us could run up there and make sure the family had the support they need.”

I nodded, staring down at the papers on my desk. Not seeing them. “Good. Yeah. You should do that.”

“You sure that’s what you want?”

I shot my eyes to his as my phone rang. “Positive.” And then I picked up the phone, saying my name as a greeting and getting down to the business of selling lumber.

Gage shook his head and stood, walking toward the door with Rex once again following at his heels. I stared after him as the caller babbled on about—well, fuck, I had no idea what. Didn’t matter. The person on the phone had nothing on the redhead my thoughts refused to turn away from. The one who’d stolen my heart when I was still just a teenager and, sadly, never given it back. The one whose only family was probably dying up on a ridge just a few miles away.

Minutes later, after I’d ended the call, I sat and let my memories stretch a little further back than I normally allowed them to go. Let my curiosity override my need to protect myself. Let pictures of Anabeth and Miss drown me in flashbacks and feelings I’d locked up long ago. Ones that refused to let me sit there and do nothing to help the family I’d once seen as part of my own.

I needed to head up to that ridge.

I shut my laptop and grabbed my keys, unable to get Miss Hansen and her granddaughter off my mind. This was a bad plan—a horrible, no good, going to destroy everything I kept so carefully balanced sort of plan. The kind that had the potential to break me, to leave me curled up in the dirt with a bottle of something dark and dangerous. None of which could stop me.

“Gage,” I snapped as soon as I hit the stairs leading to the mill floor. My mechanic leaned against the wall at the bottom with Rex at his side, both of them waiting, Gage staring up at me as if he’d known all along I’d come through that door. Fucker.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Hang back. I’ll take the Hansen visit.”

“Figured as much.”

As I passed, he reached out and grabbed my arm. In his other hand, he held a packet of pain relievers, probably from one of the first aid kits we kept around. When I looked at him, he raised an eyebrow and waited. The bastard knew me too well.

I took the packet and tore it open. “Thanks.”

“Be careful out there.” He handed me a bottle of water as I swallowed the pills. “Lots to worry about on that ridge, and you’ve got flat-bottomed shoes on.”

“You have an obsession with my shoes now?”

“I have a deep hatred for shoes that can slow you down in an emergency. You need your boots.”

As if I could wear military boots on a sales call. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

“Which is fancy speak for fuck off, Gage.” He smacked me on the shoulder. “Go. I’ll run interference if Alder shows up looking for you.”

Pain relievers in, water helping to wash them down, I gave him a serious look as we bumped fists. “You’re a good man to have on a team.”

“A good man who doesn’t get hangovers.” He grinned when I flipped him off, which was a pretty good display of exactly how our friendship worked. One of us was always trying to piss off the other. We’d probably argue about my shoes for the next week.

It was sick that I almost looked forward to that.

As soon as I got into my truck, I flipped on the wipers and glared up at the sky—the rain had finally come. The storm that would sit deep and long above us, drowning the town in water that had nowhere to go. Not a good time for Anabeth to be in Justice, if she was.

I ended up pulling into the driveway at the Hansen place way sooner than expected, having driven far too fast for the roads and the weather at hand. Fucking weak, that’s what I was. Weak and worried and unsure if anyone from hospice had made it out to help. There were no cars in the driveway, and the house looked dark. Empty. For once, the liveliness of the old lady who’d lived there for as long as I could remember didn’t shine through. A bad sign for sure.

Mind made up and shoulders set, I stepped out of my truck and headed for the porch.

I’d always enjoyed hanging out at Miss Hansen’s house. The woman had a spirit you could practically see and a wildness to her that made for lots of laughs and fun. My family had been loud and boisterous, but not in the same way. My parents had always seemed more serious, trying hard to control the chaos that came with five energetic kids running around. Miss…well, she always had her eye on having fun. Between her gusto for life and my love for her granddaughter, I’d never regretted spending a moment in that house.

Until Anabeth had left me.

But today wasn’t the day for those thoughts. Miss was likely dying, and it was my job to find out what was going on. I’d always felt a bit responsible for her. She would have been family if…

Fuck. It was definitely not the time to think about the ring still stuck in a drawer at my house or the promises that had been broken. Not at all the time.

When I reached the door, I waited. Fidgeting with my keys instead of moving to announce myself. Unsure whether to knock or haul myself back to my truck and call Gage to get his ass up here. Nervous—that was the sort of energy racing through me. Why the fuck was I nervous? I’d been a motherfucking Navy SEAL, had killed people, had walked into enemy territory and blown shit up. I didn’t remember being nervous then, but faced with the possibility of a dying elderly woman and a Vegas charlatan whose lies had almost destroyed my life…

And there it was. Anabeth. The nerves were from the possibility of seeing her. Deep down, I couldn’t decide if I wanted her to be inside or not, but I wouldn’t know one way or the other if I didn’t at least knock on the damn door.

So I knocked. And I tucked my keys into my pocket so I wouldn’t fidget with them. And I waited what felt like hours for the door to open.

The kick to the gut when it did only left me more unsure than ever.

“Bishop.”

One word. Anabeth Monroe said one fucking word, and the tidal wave of emotion I’d been trying to hold back for over a decade swamped me. I immediately became that same boy who’d fallen in love with her the first time he’d seen her. I’d followed her around like a goddamned puppy for years, and here I was ready to do it all again. How could I not? Everything I’d ever wanted in a woman stood before me—curves for days, big blue eyes that could practically see into my soul, long red hair that made her impossible to miss, and a heart so big she could swallow you whole with it. The hair color wasn’t as bright as it had been when she was a teenager, and those curves had definitely gotten a little more dangerous over the years. But she was still my Anabeth.

Except she hadn’t been mine in a long time.

I frowned, unable to stop the pull of my lips. But that was the only sign of emotion I’d give her. Back straight, head up, heart trapped under too many layers of concrete all because of the one woman staring back at me, I stared her down for a solid ten seconds before accepting the fact that it was time to actually talk to her.

“I heard Miss is sick, so I came to see how she’s doing until hospice can get here.”

Anabeth stared up at me, those eyes I’d wanted to wake up to every fucking morning looking watery and sad. Looking like she was a woman about to lose more than she was ready to.

“I’d ask how you heard, but I assume it’s the typical Kennard family stuff—someone from the hospice center must have called the mill.”

I didn’t need to agree with her. The town had always been run by my family—we’d founded it, we employed it, we took care of it.

Anabeth smiled when I didn’t respond, knowing the truth. An expression that didn’t meet her eyes. “Please, come in. And thank you for coming. It’s been a lonely couple of days.”

Gut punch number two. Days? She’d been here alone with an ailing Miss for days?

“I’m surprised you didn’t call us yourself,” I said as I followed her inside the house. “You know we would have come to help.”

The interior of Miss’ house looked the same as it always had—same paint color, same wood floors and rugs, same furniture—but something felt different. Felt wrong. The house lacked the light and life that had always come right along with Miss. It felt dead, grief-stricken, in mourning already.

Anabeth took a few steps into the living room and waited, clutching a thick, heavy-looking mug in her hands. “I didn’t want to be a bother to anyone.”

I grunted, suddenly unsure of what to do or how to be. She didn’t want me there, that much seemed obvious by her not calling. Hell, I could have sent Finn or Alder to her house if she’d told me she didn’t want me around. But she’d decided to go through this alone, hiding herself away for two days before reaching out for help. Typical Anabeth—always trying to make herself invisible until she was ready to put on a show. Something else about her that hadn’t really changed.

“You look good.” The words came out unbidden, my brain obviously not working correctly if I was complimenting my ex.

Anabeth’s plush, soft lips kicked up in a halfhearted sort of smile again. “Thanks. You do too. So much bigger than the last time…”

She didn’t need to finish that sentence. Since the last time she’d seen me…when I’d chased her ass to Vegas to beg her to come back to me. Right before I shipped out for my first training session with the SEALs. I’d been an immature kid then, still madly in love with the woman who’d made it clear she hadn’t wanted anything to do with him. One who’d made a snap decision that had altered the course of his life. Something I doubted she even knew about.

Something I had no interest in telling her. “How’s Vegas?”

“It’s fine.” She shrugged, the curve of her collarbone drawing my eyes. “Good. Work is steady.”

I locked gazes with her again, unable not to ask, “How’s the guy?”

Her eyes went wide, and the cup in her hand seemed to tremble. “There is no guy.”

Bullshit, but whatever. There had been a guy. I’d seen him with my own eyes, then gotten completely shit-faced on the Strip to try to drown the pain in my chest at the thought that she could have moved on so fast. There’d been others, too—tabloid stories linking her to other Vegas performers, musicians, and even an actor or two. But if she said there was no guy, I’d take comfort in that. At least I wouldn’t have to see her with someone else on this trip.

“So…” I exhaled, needing to focus on the now and not the past that I couldn’t fix. “Miss is sick. What are we talking about here?”

Anabeth took a deep breath, seeming to almost steel herself. “Cancer. It had metastasized by the time they found it, so she never had a real chance at treatment, though they tried. It’s just…too far gone to try anymore.”

Aw, fuck. I hadn’t known—she’d never told me. Or maybe I’d never asked, a thought that caused guilt to weigh heavy in my gut. “I’m real sorry about that. She never let on that she was sick.”

“She always did like to play her hand close to her vest.”

“Just like her granddaughter.”

Anabeth nodded, looking so small as she curled her shoulders. Protecting herself, holding herself together. The mug in her hand shook, the golden liquid inside splashing up enough for me to see it. Bringing back too many memories to ignore. Happy ones. The kind I’d tried to forget for over a decade.

“You still drink that fancy spearmint tea?”

Her smile grew, looking more real. “Always. Sadly, I’ve become addicted to a particular brand, and I’m running low already. I hadn’t expected to blow through so much, but this has been harder than…”

She trailed off, staring down at her cup in silence. Probably seeing more in the leaves along the sides of the vessel than most people ever could imagine.

“Is it not something they sell over in Rock Falls?” I knew the answer—we’d had to campaign to get the little grocery store to stock any sort of loose-leaf tea back in high school. Miss and Anabeth were the only ones who had bought it.

Anabeth leaned a hip against the back of the couch and shook her head, tearing her eyes away from the secrets inside her cup. “Not something they sell anywhere but Texas. It’s a small company—some guy who had a love of tea and heavy metal music, of all things. I’ve been addicted to it for over a year now.”

“They ship?”

“Yeah, that’s how I get it in Vegas.”

“Have them send it to the mill. I’ll make sure someone brings it out when it comes in.”

She nodded, avoiding my gaze. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

“How bad is it?” I asked, knowing she’d catch the subject change. Anabeth always had been able to follow wherever my mind went.

“It won’t be long now.” She took a deep breath, looking ready to cry again. “That’s why I called hospice. I didn’t want to leave her alone if I didn’t have to.”

And there I was hogging up her time and keeping her away from Miss. “I’m so sorry, Anabeth. I know how much she means to you.”

She nodded, holding the edges of her sweater together as if that would keep her from falling apart. But I knew her—no matter how many years away from one another, some things would never change. Anabeth only had Miss for family, and losing her would be a huge blow. One I didn’t want her to have to deal with alone.

“How long are you staying?” I asked, trying hard not to care too much no matter what her answer was,

“A week or so. I’d planned to spend time with her, but…”

Her eyes welled up, her lips turning down as she seemed to fight back tears. Yeah, she’d planned to spend time with Miss, but fate wouldn’t be so kind. Miss didn’t have time left.

“Can I see her? I wouldn’t mind saying goodbye.”

Surprised blue eyes met mine. “Of course. I have her set up in her bedroom.”

I followed Anabeth down the hall, focusing on the fact that I was about to have to say goodbye to someone who had meant so much to me during my youth. Trying my hardest not to notice how amazing Anabeth’s ass looked in her jeans or how her hips swayed so seductively when she walked. My cock definitely noticed, though. A fact that felt all the more wrong considering the situation.

Bad timing, buddy.

But all thoughts of her curves and how much I’d like to bite them fled the second I saw Miss laid out on the bed. So small, so sickly looking…so very still.

“Jesus,” I hissed, unable to hold it in. Anabeth simply nodded and waved me toward a chair next to the bed. Probably the same one she’d been sitting vigil in.

“I can leave you alone—”

I reached out and grabbed her hand before she could go, the touch electrifying even in its simplicity. Its familiarity. I hadn’t touched her in fourteen years, but nothing had changed. The feel of her skin against mine still rocked my world.

Risking hell and heaven all at once, I gripped her tighter. “Stay. Please.”

She stared down at our joined hands, looking so damn pained. I could practically feel the ache rolling off her. I couldn’t even begin to assume it was the same ache I felt—the one that spoke of loss and need and regret. Of missed years together. She’d walked away, not me.

So I pulled my hand from hers, and I gave it instead to Miss before bowing my head in prayer. So many things to be thankful for—a strong woman like Miss to be an influence on my life, how she took in Anabeth when the girl needed her most, the happy years she’d received with the rest of us on earth. I asked for only one thing in the end—for Miss to be welcomed into whatever afterlife she believed in, for her to find her peace in death. And then I whispered a quiet amen.

“Thank you, Miss, for always watching out for us when we were younger. You were a guiding force for sure, and I benefitted from being a child in your village.” I kissed the back of her hand. “May the spirits bless and keep you, and may you enjoy your next journey as much if not more than you enjoyed this one.”

Anabeth rested a hand on my shoulder, branding me with her touch once more. “She would have liked that prayer.”

“Good. I hope it brought her a little comfort.” I patted Anabeth’s hand, the one burning into my shoulder. Such torture, to have her so close again. To know there was nothing I could say to get back what we’d lost.

And there was nothing I could do to keep her from losing even more.

“C’mon,” I said when a shiver wracked her body. “Let’s get you another cup of tea to warm you up.”

Anabeth stared at Miss for a long moment before nodding once. “Would you like a cup? I have enough to share.”

“I’m never going to be a fan of that stuff, but I’ll keep you company while you make one for yourself.” I stood and followed her out of the room, leaving the door open just in case Miss came to and needed us. Anabeth wouldn’t want to be away from her for long, that was for sure. Especially not with the way she looked back over her shoulder and into the room.

“She’s okay,” I said, nudging Anabeth forward. “And she’d want you to take care of yourself. Let’s make the tea, then you can come back here.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded anyway and headed toward the kitchen. “You sure you wouldn’t care for a cup?”

“Not going to change my mind there.”

“But if you drink it, I can read your tea leaves.”

“Never going to be a fan of that either. I’d rather the future just come—I don’t want to know everything beforehand.”

She chuckled, her smile a little wider than before. A little more real. “At least some things never change.”

Gut punch number three, and a knockout one at that. Some things didn’t change, but she had. So had I. Too many years apart had caused that, too many hurts left behind. I wasn’t in college anymore, wasn’t young and impressionable and completely overwhelmed with all the possibilities laid out before me. She’d destroyed me then, had stolen the hope that had come with not knowing how bad things could go in life. And now? Even with my guard up and my broken heart buried beneath the sea of my own making?

She could easily do it again.

Which meant I needed to put some space between us. So as we reached the foyer, I stopped following her and instead pulled my keys from my pocket. “Actually, I should really get going. I’ve still got work to do tonight, and the rain’s going to make the drive home a bit of a slog.”

Anabeth nodded, her smile falling. “Right. Of course.”

Feeling like the biggest jerk in the world, I led her to the front door, fidgeting with my keys the entire way. But when I stepped outside, I knew I couldn’t leave her there like that. Not alone. I didn’t even know if she had a way to reach anyone in town.

“Anabeth,” I said once I stood on her front porch.

She clutched the door, not setting a toe over the threshold. Keeping us divided. “Yeah?”

“Just…here.” I pulled a business card from my wallet and handed it to her as if she were some stranger, some client. Not what I’d intended, but I had no other option. “Call or text me if you need anything. Anything at all. We’ve had some trouble around town lately, so if you see anyone or think something feels off, let me know. I’ve got a team that can take care of it.”

She took the card, her fingers brushing mine. A touch I felt right down to the tip of my cock. I seriously needed to get the fuck away before I did something stupid like grabbing her, kissing those soft, pink lips of hers, and begging her to take me back.

Weak. I was so utterly fucking weak for this girl.

“Vice President of Marketing and Sales. Fancy,” she said, her eyes locked on the card and her face carefully blank. Apparently not as affected as I was. Something to remember. “Thank you for this. I appreciate it.”

Done. Over. Nothing more to say. Without another word, I turned and walked away. Needing air. Needing a minute to collect myself. To remember why I had to leave her there. Why it was so stupid to come back. By the time I reached my truck, Anabeth had disappeared into the house and closed the door. Gone again. Always fucking gone, that girl. Always would be too, so there was no reason to think this time might be different.

Time had changed some things, but not that fact. Anabeth wouldn’t stay, and I had no interest in letting her destroy me when she left again.