Nobody spoke for a long time after that first spurt of conversation. There was just the crunch of gravel beneath our feet and the evening birds calling across the water.
At first, the silence felt awkward. I wished Zion was there with his excellent conversation skills andseemingly endless supply ofstories, mini-lectures, and quippy observations to fill all the blank spaces. But the longer we walked, the more comfortable I got with the rhythm of our steps, the cool evening air, and the way neither of them demanded anything from me.
Until, suddenly, I was... back at the cottage.
“I’ll come through later tonight,” Boone said when we reached the start of the gravel path leading back to my chosen home. “Just turn off all the lights when you’re ready for me to come over and take up my post. See ya, sugar.”
With that, he left me standing there with a wave of his hammy hand.
A new relief rushed through me, knowing I’d be allowed to spend my evening alone before Boone officially reported for sentry duty. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be up for old episodes ofBritain’s Got Bakersand backstory gossip anyway.
However, I was also deeply, uncomfortably aware of Ravik’s presence still beside me. Which became even more awkward in Boone’s absence.
The sun was nearly all the way down, and the only lights on the path came from the cottage and the three houses surrounding it... in an unasked-for triangle of protection.
“Thank you,” I said finally. “For the wood-carving gouge. That was… very thoughtful.”
Ravik nodded once.
That was it. No “you’re welcome.” No explanation of how he’d known exactly what I needed. Just that single nod.
“Okay, good night.”
Another nod. He wasn’t wearing a Mountie uniform, being retired and all. But he was so stiff, it kind of felt like he was, even in jeans and a ribbon shirt.
I started awkwardly down the path toward the cottage, but I swear I could feel his eyes still on me, watching every step I took.
I didn’t want to look back. Told myself not to look back—right before I looked back.
Yep. Still there.Standing at the end of the path. Stern profile, hands clasped behind his back, legs spread slightly apart. Like he could issue somebody a ticket at any second. So rigid and cold.
But then Zion’s words echoed in my head:He never mutes his bond. There’s never any misunderstanding between us.
What must it be like, I wondered, to know what Ravik was thinking—what he felt like underneath that stern exterior? Was there truly any warmth hidden beneath all that rigid control?
Stupid, stupid questions.
This time, I didn’t look back.
No, I went inside my widow’s cottage and closed the door firmly on that line of thought, reminding myself that I’d never know.
And more importantly: I didn’t—shouldn’t—want to know.
The next morning, I made myself a sandwich with my coffee and tucked it into a Ziplock bag—at least I’d have something for lunch. When I made it out to the back deck, safety glasses were waiting on top of the metal chair along with the gouge tool.
Another perfect gift from the guy who had no reason to even be thinking about me. It made my chest ache.
But I put them on and got to work, determined to get as much of the bear’s head done as possible before I broke for lunch….
…and what felt like only a little time later, I looked up to find Zion standing in the setting sun.Crap.
After a dinner of steak and what appeared to be some kind of white corn bread with beans—that Zion simply called white cornbread with beans—he took me for a sunset walk.
Ravik, once again, quietly joined in and only nodded when I thanked him for the safety glasses.
It was Zion, so he kept me in stitches with tales from his boarding school days, which included a story about being required to take a class trip to their sister school in Germany every year and having to go on several hikes in his formal school uniform.
I laughed and made empathetic sounds, but didn't mention that my older sister, Joy, and niece, Merry, had moved to Germany a little while ago— underwildlydramatic circumstances. Yet another set of loved ones I was letting down by not staying in contact
