Page 21 of Run Wild Omega

I hate that idea. I hate it with a burning intensity that makes my fists clench. I didn’t break her heart to imprison her. I did it to set her free. I wanted her to see the world, to have options, to have a life where she didn’t have to worry about money or status or the opinion of a small town.

If my presence here is chaining her to the shadows of her own home, then I’m failing her all over again.

Dylan might be right. Maybe she isn’t the only one who hasn’t moved on. Maybe I’m the anchor weighing her down.

The coffee finishes brewing. I pour a mug, drinking it black while standing in the middle of my kitchen, trying to formulate a plan.

I can’t fix the past. I can’t undo the night I told her to leave. But I can’t keep going on like this—nodding at her in the hallway like she’s a stranger I met on the street.

I need to see her. Not on a ridge. Not across a crowded room. I need to talk to her.

I go into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. I pull on my uniform, the dark green fabric feeling like a second skin. I grab my jacket, my keys, and my badge.

Pip meows at the door, winding around my legs.

“Not today, Pip. It’s too cold.”

I leave her with a full bowl and head out.

The drive into town is quiet. The snow from last night has stopped, leaving the world dusted in white. I park the truck in the lot behind the municipal building, but instead of going into the station, I walk.

The cold air helps clear the fog in my head. I walk past the post office, past the library, until I reach the main strip.

The café is already open, warm light spilling out onto the wooden sidewalk. The sign above the door is painted in cheerful red script, hung there by Henry Hartwell before I was even born.

I stop on the corner for a second, checking my own reflection in the dark glass of the shop next door. I look tired, but I look the part. The uniform hides the exhaustion.

I open the door.

A bell chimes overhead, a sound that takes me back ten years in an instant. Warmth envelops me, carrying the rich aroma of roasted coffee, cinnamon, and frying bacon. The place is busy—locals reading papers, tourists with maps, the morning rush in full swing.

Margaret Hartwell is behind the counter. She’s wiping down the espresso machine, her gray hair tucked back in a bandana. She looks older than I remember, more lines around her eyes, but her posture is the same. Fierce. Protective.

I move to a corner table, sliding into the booth. It gives me a view of the room while keeping my back to the wall.

Margaret looks up. Her eyes find mine instantly. Her smile fades, replaced by a careful, neutral expression. She walks over, a pot of coffee in her hand.

“Morning, Wyatt,” she says. Her tone is polite, but cool.

“Morning, Margaret.” I nod. “Can I get a coffee?”

“Sure thing.” She pours a mug, steam rising in a thin curl. “You’re usually at the station this time of day. Everything okay?”

“Just taking a break.” I wrap my hands around the ceramic mug, letting the heat seep into my palms. “Is… is Tess around?”

Margaret pauses, the pot hovering over the table. She looks at me, her gaze piercing. The silence stretches out, loaded with unsaid words.

“She hasn’t come in yet,” she says slowly. “Is there a problem? Did something happen on the mountain?”

“No. No problem.” I take a sip of the coffee, buying myself a second. It’s good. Strong. “I just wanted to talk to her. It’s about the terrain on the south face. She knows the history of that ridge better than anyone. I wanted to ask her about the snow patterns there.”

It’s a lie. A flimsy, pathetic lie. I could pull up the geological surveys of the south face on my computer in ten seconds. I don’t need Tess Hartwell to tell me about snowpack.

Margaret studies me, her eyes narrowing. She knows it’s a lie, too. She knows I know the mountain as well as anyone.

“I could call her,” she says. “Or have Leo radio her.”

“No rush.” I lean back, trying to look relaxed. “I’m off shift in an hour. I’ll just have my coffee and wait. If she comes in, great. If not, I’ll catch her later.”