No one who depended on me.
And no one for me to lose.
Until I walked into Honey Leaf Lodge and found a woman who refused to fit into any of the rules I’d made for myself over the years.
I rubbed my palms over my face and sank into the chair near the small wooden table.
Sienna Harper was not part of the plan.
She was chaos tucked into a confident smile. She was warmth with a stubborn streak. She had the skill set of someone twice her size and ten times the courage. She laughed like she’d never been hurt and protected herself like she always had been.
And I had no business feeling anything toward her except professional respect.
The problem was, I respected her too much.
And I felt too much.
The bear encounters had been instinctive. Any guide would’ve stepped forward. But the wolves… that moment between them… I’d stepped toward her before the pack even registered us.
Then this morning, when the snow began falling, and she stood beside me at the lake, breath fogging softly, cheeks flushed with cold, eyes too open for her own comfort—
I’d stepped closer again.
Closer than I’d meant to.
Closer than was smart.
It was like something in me recognized her before I gave it permission.
I ground my heel against the wooden floor, trying to push the thought away. But it stayed. It lingered. It hovered in the silence.
I moved my head back against the chair.
“What are you doing?” I muttered to the empty room. “You should know better.”
Maybe that was the part that bothered me the most. It was the idea that I wasn’t in control the way I used to be. That something about her made parts of me come alive I’d packed away years ago. Something about her made solitude feel less like a sanctuary and more like a shield I was suddenly tired of holding.
Dangerous thinking.
Very dangerous.
I stood and walked to the window. The snow had stopped falling, leaving the woods outside dusted in white, branches sagging lightly. The morning light had strengthened into a sharper gold.
Everything looked calm.
But something in the air felt unsettled.
Not the weather.
Me.
I moved into the small bathroom to wash my face. Cold water steadied me. It usually did. I stared at my reflection in the mirror for a long moment, watching droplets run from my hairline down my cheek.
I looked tired, but that wasn’t new.
Whatwasnew was the faint, almost reluctant edge of hopefulness I saw. Something I had no idea how to deal with.
I shut off the water and braced both hands on the sink.
