Page 24 of Revival in Laurel Valley

He pulled out the satellite phone and made the call, keeping it brief. Liza heard him give their location, heard him confirm they were safe for now. When he hung up, his jaw was tight.

“What did he say?”

“No sign of Caine since she disabled the Bronco. State police and FBI are coordinating, but the tactical team won’t be in place until the day after tomorrow at the earliest.” He set the phone down. “We wait here until then.”

“And if she finds us before that?”

“She won’t.” But Grant checked his weapon anyway, setting it within easy reach on the small table. “This land belongs to the O’Haras. Thousands of acres of private property. Even if she knows we’re in the general area, she’d have to search for days to find this specific cabin.”

Liza wanted to believe him. And looking at his face in the firelight, at the determination in his eyes, she almost did.

Grant heated canned soup on the woodstove while Liza rested. The simple act of cooking, of taking care of her, felt right in a way he couldn’t explain. Like this was what he was supposed to be doing. Like she was who he was supposed to be doing it for.

They ate sitting on the bunk together, sharing the single bowl because there was only one spoon. The soup was terrible—bland and oversalted and nothing like real food—but it was hot and filling.

“This is the best soup I’ve ever had,” Liza said.

“It’s terrible soup.”

“Maybe. But the company makes up for it.” She smiled at him, and Grant felt something shift in his chest. Something that felt dangerously close to hope.

“Liza—”

“Don’t,” she said softly, setting the bowl aside. “Don’t apologize again for getting me into this. Don’t tell me you should have stayed away from the bakery. Just…be here with me now.”

So he did. He set aside the soup and pulled her close, careful of her ankle. She fit against him like she was made to be there, her head on his shoulder, her hand over his heart. They sat like that for a long time, listening to the fire crackle and the wind whisper through the pines outside.

“Tell me something true,” Liza finally said. “Something you’ve never told anyone.”

Grant was quiet for a long moment, his hand moving slowly up and down her arm. “I was scared to come here. To Laurel Valley. Not because of Caine, but because I didn’t know who I was without the job. Without the badge.” His voice was thick, the admission harder than he’d expected. “I’ve been a cop since I was twenty-two. It’s all I’ve ever known. And when they took that away, I felt…empty. Like someone had hollowed me out and left nothing but the shell.”

“And now?”

“Now I think maybe I was empty long before they forced me out. I just didn’t want to see it.” He looked down at her, at the way the firelight played across her face. “What about you? What’s your truth?”

Liza was quiet, her fingers tracing slow patterns on his chest. “I’ve been running my whole life. From my parents’ divorce, from relationships, from anything that felt permanent. I told myself it was about freedom, about adventure, about living life to the fullest. But really, I was just scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of failing. Of trying to build something and watching it fall apart like everything else in my life. Of caring about something enough that losing it would destroy me.” She tilted her head to look at him. “But you know what scares me more now?”

“What?”

“Not trying at all. Not taking the chance. Spending the rest of my life wondering what could have been if I’d just been brave enough to stay.”

Grant’s hand came up to cup her face, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

“I don’t feel brave. I feel terrified.”

“That’s what brave is. Being terrified and doing it anyway.” He leaned in, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was gentle and searching, full of questions and promises.

When they pulled apart, Liza’s eyes were dark and full of want. “Grant⁠—”

“I know this is fast,” he said. “I know it’s crazy. We’ve known each other less than two days. But Liza, I need you to know⁠—”

“I know,” she whispered. “I feel it too.”

The kiss deepened, became something hungry and desperate and real. Grant’s hands moved to her hair, and she pulled him closer, needing the warmth of him, the solid reality of him.