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Until next year. Until the next conversation.

Scott nodded eventually. It was not acceptance, not completely, but something in his face told Mara that he understood she wouldn’t be argued out of this.

She stepped forward and hugged him.

Scott hesitated before his arms came around her, and for a few seconds Mara held the man who had been home for so long. She remembered being twenty-seven and laughing with him in a terrible apartment they could barely afford. She remembered illnesses, holidays, ordinary Tuesdays, and years in which loving him had felt like the easiest thing in the world.

Then she let him go.

“Take care of yourself,” Mara said.

Scott looked at her for a long moment before nodding. “You too.”

She watched him walk to his car and climb inside. When he drove away, Mara remained beside the porch until the sound of the engine disappeared.

The sadness stayed with her, but it did not feel like regret.

Only then did she pick up Gabe’s breakfast and go back inside. The cinnamon bears had cooled, but Mara didn’t mind. She set the box on the dining table and stood there for a moment, thinking about Scott’s eight years and Gabe’s handful of days.

Time was not the only thing that made a choice true.

The thought did not erase the ache of saying goodbye, but it steadied her. Mara reached for her phone.

CHAPTER 20

Gabe

Gabe had been back at Mountain View for less than an hour when Matilda finally set down the tray she was carrying. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

He kept his attention on the dough beneath his hands. “There isn’t much to talk about.”

Matilda was quiet long enough that he knew she wasn’t going to accept that. She had been with him through the early days of Mountain View when he had worked stupid hours because he couldn’t afford enough help, through Dana having the kids, and through every ordinary part of his life that had eventually made the bakery feel as familiar to her as it did to him.

“Gabe,” she said gently.

He stopped kneading and stared down at his flour-covered hands. Scott had been standing outside cabin seven when Gabe arrived with breakfast, and Mara had needed to talk to him. Gabe had given her that space because there had never really been another choice. Eight years of her life deserved more than being pushed aside because of fate.

“She said she’d call,” Gabe murmured.

“And she will.” Matilda placed her hand on his arm. “You know she will.”

“I believe Mara does what she says she’ll do.” Gabe wiped his hands on his apron and glanced toward the front windows. “I just don’t know what she’s going to say when she does.”

His bear had been miserable since they left cabin seven, pacing restlessly because none of his usual certainty could help them. Mara was their mate. His bear knew that with absolute conviction, but that did not mean Mara had to choose them.

Matilda took a step back and rested one hand against the edge of the worktable. “Whatever happens, you did the right thing leaving them to talk.”

“I know.” He nodded.

Matilda tilted her head and studied him. “That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”

Gabe met her eyes and gave up pretending. “What makes it worse is that I was going to tell her today.”

Matilda’s eyebrows lifted. “Everything?”

He nodded. “Everything.”

She studied him for a moment longer before giving a small nod. “You’ll get your chance.”