Page 34 of Protector of Talon Mountain

Because falling in love with Zeke MacAllister doesn’t feel like a decision. It feels like fate.

* * *

The café is still dark when I unlock the back door. The scent of cinnamon, coffee, and baked sugar hits me the second I step inside—comforting and grounding, even though the ovens haven’t been turned on yet. I kick off the frost from my boots, shrug out of my coat, and hang it on the hook by the pantry. My hands are still cold from the walk back from the cemetery, but the burn in my chest hasn’t dulled. If anything, it’s sharper now. Louder.

I don’t turn the lights on in the kitchen. There’s just enough glow from the early morning outside to see my way around. I reach for a mixing bowl, pull the flour bin closer, and try to lose myself in routine. Routine has always been safer than thinking. But it’s no good today.

Because Zeke is already here. I feel him before I see him—stillness at the edge of the room, weight pressing into the air like gravity has a favorite. I glance toward the stairs that lead up to his apartment above the café. He’s leaning against the wall near the dry storage shelf, arms crossed, gaze locked on me.

“You walk back from the cemetery alone?” he asks, voice low and even.

I swallow, fingers tightening on the rim of the bowl. “You’re watching me again?”

“Always,” he corrects. “And I’m not apologizing for it.”

I set the bowl down with a little more force than necessary, flour dusting the air between us. “I needed space.”

“You needed distance,” he says, pushing off the wall and crossing toward me with that slow, controlled pace that makes everything inside me coil tight. “Not silence. And not another lie.”

I freeze. “What lie?”

Zeke stops just short of touching me. His eyes don’t soften. They sharpen. “The man who grabbed you. You said he was a stranger.”

I look down, heart pounding like it’s trying to leap out of my chest. “He… he didn’t hurt me.”

“That’s not the point, Sadie.”

Though his voice isn’t raised, it’s sharp. Not in anger. In clarity. In truth. He’s not trying to scare me. He’s trying to pull me out of whatever corner I’ve backed myself into.

I wrap my arms around my middle and lean against the prep table. “His name’s Adam.”

Zeke stays quiet, giving me the space I’ve never asked for out loud but always hoped for deep down.

I keep going. “He’s Brent’s cousin. He used to come around sometimes. He was always... too friendly. The kind of guy who’d hug too long or make comments that sounded like compliments until you actually listened to the words.”

Zeke’s jaw tightens.

I press forward. “When I finally told Brent I was leaving, Adam started showing up more. Brent said he just wanted someone to check in, make sure I wasn’t doing anything ‘impulsive.’” I give a hollow laugh. “Impulsive meaning thinking for myself. Talking to people who weren’t him.”

Zeke steps closer, hand resting lightly on the edge of the counter beside me. Not touching, just anchoring. “So Adam came to Glacier Hollow to remind you that you’re still being watched.”

“I don’t know that for sure,” I say, but it’s weak. And we both know it.

Zeke studies me. “You didn’t report it.”

“I couldn’t prove it was him. No name, no plates. And I thought maybe... maybe if I didn’t acknowledge it, it would stop.” I pause, voice quieter. “I didn’t want to need help. I didn’t want to be the woman people whispered about, the one who brought her baggage into town and expected everyone else to carry it.”

His voice goes softer but somehow firmer too. “You’re not a burden.”

“I am to myself,” I say, honest and exhausted. “Every time I feel safe again, something shifts. And it’s like I’m back in that apartment, waiting for the next controlled sentence or slammed drawer or check-in that isn’t really a check-in.”

Zeke exhales slowly, the heat of it brushing across my cheek before he leans in. His hand comes up, thumb brushing along my jaw. Gentle. Commanding. “You should’ve told me, Sadie.”

“I know.”

“I will not ask you again next time.”

“I know that too.”

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