Neither spoke.
Scout lifted his beer, finished it in one long swallow.
Kyle stood abruptly, the chair legs scraping against the wood. “Enjoy those two nights up there?”
Scout paused mid-step, not turning yet. The room went still.
Kyle took a slow step forward. “You think I don’t know what people are saying? Snowed in, storm raging, the hero deputy and the pretty agent. You make a move, Wilson?”
Scout turned then—calm, deliberate. His voice stayed level. “You got something worth asking, ask it.”
Kyle smirked. “I’m wondering how a man keeps his hands to himself that long.”
Scout set his glass down. The muscles in his forearm tightened once around the glass before he released it. He didn’t move closer, didn’t raise his voice—just met Kyle’s stare until the smirk faltered.
“When you’ve been shot at in the dark, Agent Denton, you learn the difference between wanting something and needing it. I needed us alive. That’s all you need to know.”
Kyle’s mouth opened like he wanted to push it further, but he didn’t.
Scout stepped past him—close enough that Kyle caught the low warning in his tone.
“Careful.”
Then Scout turned and walked out. He didn’t look back.
Tessa
Tessa pushed through the bar’s door into the chilly evening air, Her steps quickened on the slick sidewalk. She hadn’t meant to leave so fast, but she couldn’t have stayed—not with the weight of Kyle’s resentment or the shock in Scout’s eyes when their gazes met.
She paused beneath an awning. She caught her reflection in the glass and barely recognized the woman looking back.
She couldn’t hear a word from inside the bar. But she could still hear the way Scout had spoken in that cabin—steady, restrained, painfully honest.
A faint train whistle carried through the darkness—distant, lonely, swallowed by the mountains. She held onto the sound, letting it anchor her.
Then she stepped toward her SUV.
She didn’t know what came next.
Only that she couldn’t stand still anymore.
Somewhere in the dark, Sara Parker was still waiting.
29
Tessa Quinn — Cloud Gap
By the time Tessa pulled into Cloud Gap, silvery mist drifted low through the trees. Rain whispered against the windshield. The porch light glowed through the fog—steady. Familiar.
She unlocked the door softly.
“Tallulah?”
A small yellow blur darted from the kitchen, tail stiff with indignation. The cat batted at the paper bag in Tessa’s hand.
“Okay, spoiled girl.”
Tessa knelt and pulled out the toy duck from town. Tallulah pounced, skidding across the hardwood. The sight tugged a smile from her—her first real one all day.
