Their eyes locked one final time. The depth of connection already formed between them shone in her gaze. He couldn’t stand to see it. Henry turned and walked away without looking back. The cool night air hit his overheated skin as he escaped into the parking lot and turned the corner to where he’d parked his car. He climbed into his truck, hands shaking on the steering wheel.
What had he done? Leaving her there after that kiss. After Lisa’s threats and the consultant’s attention. His bear raged against his decision, causing actual physical pain as he pulled away from the brewery. Henry drove two blocks before guilt overwhelmed him. He couldn’t leave her unprotected. He turned the truck around, returning to the brewery.
Ivy’s SUV still sat in front of Max and Laney’s house. Henry waited, engine idling, to ensure she got home safely. He pulled out the phone his family had forced on him, fumbling with the unfamiliar technology until he found her name in his contacts. His thumbs pecked awkwardly at the screen.
“Are you OK?”
The response came almost immediately: “Bridget’s driving me home. I’m fine.”
Relief washed through him, followed by shame. He should have offered to drive her home himself instead of running away like a coward.
Henry rested his forehead against the steering wheel. His bear continued to rage against his human decision to flee, the inner conflict leaving him exhausted. Ivy was his mate. His bear knew it with absolute certainty. Yet his human side feared the vulnerability that came with such a connection.
For years, Henry had lived in self-imposed isolation. The thought of letting someone into his carefully constructed solitude terrified him. But the alternative, of continuing to deny the mate bond that clearly existed between them, seemed impossible after tonight.
He started his truck again, turning toward the mountain road that led to his cabin. The hardest decision of his life lay before him. Not whether Ivy Bright was his mate, but whether he could find the courage to accept what that meant.
Chapter
Eleven
Three daysafter the brewery gathering, Ivy still hadn’t heard from Henry. When he’d left her after their kiss, she’d tried to compartmentalize their relationship. If he was going to run out on her like that, she didn’t have room for him in her life right now, especially with her busy schedule. He’d given her extremely mixed signals, and she couldn’t handle the emotional whiplash.
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as Ivy stared at the budget spreadsheet on her laptop. Numbers blurred together after four hours of reconciling construction costs with grant allocations. Outside the construction trailer, darkness had fallen across Fate Mountain, much earlier than usual due to the heavy clouds gathering on the horizon.
Ivy rubbed her eyes, willing her focus to return. Her thoughts kept swinging back to Henry and that kiss at the brewery. The memory sent warmth spreading through her body despite her attempts to analyze it clinically.
“It was just biology,” she muttered, typing more aggressively than necessary. “Fated mates exhibit strong hormone responses upon physical contact. Documented physiological reaction.”
But the scientist in her knew that explanation fell woefully short. Science couldn’t account for how his scent had wrapped around her like a physical embrace, how his reluctant smile had cracked something open inside her chest. Or why his sudden departure had left her feeling hollow.
Her bear stirred beneath her skin, disagreeing vehemently with her attempts at detachment. The animal side recognized what the human side feared to acknowledge—that Henry Kincaid’s abandonment after their kiss had hurt far more than she wanted to admit.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the construction site through the trailer windows. Thunder followed almost immediately, a deep rolling sound that she felt through the metal floor beneath her feet. Ivy glanced up from her laptop, noticing for the first time how dark the sky had become. The approaching storm had transformed early evening into twilight.
Her phone buzzed with an emergency alert: “SEVERE THUNDERSTORM WARNING: Fate Mountain area. High winds, dangerous lightning, and flash flooding expected. Seek shelter immediately.”
“Perfect timing,” she muttered, saving her work.
The lights flickered once, twice, then plunged the trailer into darkness as thunder crashed directly overhead, so loud it seemed to shake the small structure. Ivy fumbled for her phone, activating the flashlight function. Rain began hammering against the roof with sudden violence, the sound overwhelming in the confined space.
“Okay, Ivy, time to go,” she told herself, gathering papers and shoving them into her waterproof messenger bag.
Alone in the dark trailer, with only her phone light casting strange shadows, Ivy allowed her perpetual optimism to slip momentarily. Exhaustion pressed against her shoulders. The weight of the nature center project—with its mounting problems, suspicious accidents, and looming deadlines—suddenly felt crushing. Henry’s rejection after their kiss had just added another layer of pressure she really didn’t need right now.
Lightning flashed again, revealing her reflection in the darkened computer screen. The woman staring back looked tired, uncertain—so different from the endlessly positive Dr. Bright that everyone relied upon.
“Pull it together,” she whispered to herself. “Just get home, take a hot shower, and everything will look better tomorrow.”
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Ivy grabbed her rain jacket and took a deep breath before pushing open the trailer door.
The storm’s fury hit her full force. Wind-driven rain immediately soaked her pants and splattered her face despite the jacket’s hood. She sprinted toward her yellow SUV, nearly slipping twice on the suddenly muddy ground. By the time she reached the vehicle and fumbled her key into the lock, she was already half-drenched.
Ivy cranked the heater as she started the engine, her teeth chattering from the sudden drenching. The parking area had transformed into a network of puddles reflecting her headlights. Visibility extended barely past her hood as rain pounded against the windshield faster than the wipers could clear it.
“Slow and steady,” she reminded herself, carefully navigating around equipment and material piles. The main access roadappeared through her windshield, a dark ribbon cutting through the forest.
She had driven less than a quarter mile when her headlights illuminated a massive pine tree sprawled across the entire road. The ancient evergreen had apparently been hit by lightning, the trunk black from the strike. There was no way around it—not in her SUV, and certainly not in this weather.
