Izzy huffed a quiet, self-conscious laugh. “Don’t make it sound romantic, Cate.”
“I’m not,” Caitlin said gently. “I’m trying to understand why you’re halfway out the door.”
Izzy hesitated, her fingers tracking the seam of her trousers.
“It wasn’t nothing,” she whispered. “And this morning he made it very clear it needed to stay that way.”
Caitlin’s expression hardened, a flash of pure Scott anger touching her face. “He actually said that?”
“Not in so many words,” Izzy said, her voice dropping. “But close enough for me to read the subtext.”
A beat.
“He doesn’t get to do that,” Caitlin muttered, looking back toward the house.
Izzy shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters if it’s the sole reason you’re running away.”
“I’m not running!” Izzy snapped, her eyes bright with the sting of the day. Then, softer, her voice cracking. “It’s not just that, Cate.”
Caitlin held her gaze, steady and unyielding. “Okay. Then tell me what it is.”
Izzy looked out over the ridge again. The mountains. The raw land. The place that had started to feel—dangerously—like something she didn’t want to lose.
“I don’t belong here,” she said finally.
Caitlin didn’t miss a beat. “That is absolutely not what I’m seeing.”
Izzy let out a quiet, tired breath. “Well, that’s what he’s seeing.”
The admission sat between them, solid in the mountain air. Caitlin studied her for a long second, taking in the defiant set of her shoulders and the exhaustion underneath.
“And you’re just going to let some stubborn cowboy decide that for you?”
Izzy didn’t answer. Because that was the problem. She didn’t know.
Caitlin’s voice softened, losing its edge as she squeezed Izzy’s arm. “Hey.”
Izzy looked back at her.
“You can be mad,” Caitlin said, her eyes shining. “You can be hurt. You can even decide this whole mountain isn’t worth the trouble.” A beat. “But don’t you dare walk away just because some stubborn cowboy doesn’t know what to do with you.”
Izzy huffed out a breath despite herself, a small, involuntary smile breaking through the tension. “That is… aggressively accurate.”
“Thank you,” Caitlin said, her own mouth tipping up.
The quiet that followed was lighter this time, the air easier to breathe. Then Izzy’s expression shifted, the curator’s focus returning to her eyes—subtler, sharper, more dangerous.
“Burke reopened the case,” she said quietly.
Caitlin nodded slowly. “Yeah. He did.”
Izzy crossed her arms again—but this time it wasn’t a defense mechanism. It was calculation.
“The cabin didn’t feel right, Cate. The canvases didn’t look like someone who just… chose to leave her life behind. And now this—Hollis, the land, everything tied together in the dark.” She shook her head. “I don’t think I’m done here.”
Caitlin’s smile curved, knowing and satisfied. Not surprised at all. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I didn’t think you were either.”
