The contact was tender, without the desperate urgency of the night before but no less meaningful. “About what you said earlier,” he started. “I want you to know. I love you too.”
“Henry…” Ivy said, her throat tightening with emotion. They held each other on the dock in the fading sunlight with the sweet breeze blowing over the lake.
They returned to the gathering as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the yard. Family members were gathering leftovers and beginning goodbye rituals—Holly extracting promises for coffee dates, Reed planning a brewery visit, Ash and Eliana corralling a tired Eli.
“You’re welcome anytime, Henry,” Corey said as they prepared to leave. “Our door is always open.”
The drive back to her apartment was peaceful, the admission of his love for her humming between them. Ivy found herself studying his profile in the fading light, marveling at how much had changed in so little time.
“What?” Henry asked, catching her stare.
“Nothing,” she said, then reconsidered. “Everything. I’m just... happy.”
His hand found hers across the truck’s console, large fingers entwining with her smaller ones in a gesture that felt profound. They’d found something precious together. Something that felt like coming home.
As the truck pulled up to her apartment building, Ivy felt a well of pride surge through her. They’d come so far from thatawkward café meeting, from his initial resistance to everything she represented. The grumpy bear was still there, his edges still rough, but he’d chosen to lower his walls for her. And in doing so, had revealed someone worthy of her heart.
Chapter
Fourteen
Ivy arrivedat the nature center construction site early Monday morning, before the crew, a cardboard box of fresh pastries balanced in one hand and her work bag in the other. She hummed quietly, her mind still warm with memories from the weekend with Henry at his cabin and the surprisingly successful family barbecue.
The morning air caressed her skin with autumn’s crisp fingers, carrying the scent of pine and morning dew. Birds called to one another in the surrounding forest. She felt a flicker of unease that rippled through her as she approached the main entrance.
The heavy steel door stood slightly ajar, a sliver of darkness visible through the gap. Drawing closer, her bear senses alert and tingling, she noticed the lock mechanism hanging awkwardly from the frame, metal fragments scattered across the concrete below. Someone had broken in!
“Hello?” she called, her bear instincts sharpening as she scented the lingering traces of unfamiliar presence beneath the clean mountain air. Only silence answered. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Her cautious footsteps seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness. Something twisted in her stomach, the bear within her bristling with protective anger. Ivy placed the pastry box on a workbench near the entrance.
Confused, she rounded the corner into the eastern wing. Ivy froze, her breath catching in her throat. The devastation before her struck like a physical blow, forcing her back a half-step before determination rooted her in place.
The meticulously crafted model of the mountain ecosystem—her pride and joy, with its carefully detailed wildlife paths and seasonal transformations—lay in ruins, pieces scattered across the concrete floor like a broken dream. Interactive wildlife displays had been smashed, their components crushed beyond repair. Educational panels were now defaced with angry red spray paint.
“Nature Not Concrete” screamed one wall. “Development = Destruction” declared another. The slogans matched Maya Wilson’s environmental group’s rhetoric exactly. Ivy had read these precise phrases on her fliers, word for word.
She stood paralyzed, her brain struggling to process. Months of research, design, and passion lay shattered around her. With trembling fingers, Ivy pulled out her phone and called the police.
“Hello? I need to report vandalism at the Fate Mountain Nature Center construction site.” She gave the dispatcher details and her location, noting the forced entry and targeted destruction, her voice steadier than she felt.
After finishing with the police, she made a second call. “Henry? Something’s happened at the site. Can you come?” Her voicewavered despite her attempts to keep it steady, her bear seeking its mate in a moment of vulnerability.
Before the police arrived, Henry’s truck pulled into the construction area. Ivy met him outside, fighting to maintain her composure. His expression darkened as soon as he saw her face.
“Someone broke in,” she explained, leading him to the damaged door. “Then destroyed the exhibition space.”
Henry examined the lock, fingers tracing the clean break in the metal. “Someone knew what they were doing,” he murmured.
Inside, Henry moved through the destruction methodically, his posture shifting to something more primal, more protective with each step. He examined the spray paint, then the broken exhibition components.
“The slogans match Maya Wilson’s group’s messaging exactly,” Ivy said, needing to give voice to the obvious.
“Too exactly,” Henry noted. His gaze tracked along the shattered remains of exhibits, his forehead creasing with concentration. “Notice how these brackets were removed, not broken? And the way the models were disassembled along their seams?” He gestured toward the careful destruction pattern, his voice thoughtful rather than accusatory. “Whoever did this knew these displays intimately.”
Ivy’s stomach tightened. “You think Maya’s people studied our designs that closely?”
Henry tilted his head slightly, considering. “Maybe. But look at this.” He lifted a section of the topographical model, showing her the clean separation at exactly where the internal support structure connected.
