by Katie Cross
“Mark!” I hissed. “She can't find us like this! She'll—”
He laughed then, a deep, rolling timbre that cut all the way to my bones. “Point made,” he called to Megan, having mercy on me. “You win two best-sister-ever points. Go see your gladiator and come back. I'll be awake by then.”
A long silence passed where I remained frozen, ready to leap out of bed, before Megan grumbled something about getting stuff from her car first and the door shut with a thud behind her. Mark growled, hooked an arm around me, and pulled me back down.
“She'll be a while,” he murmured against my neck. “They haven't seen each other in like three days so they’re going to pretend as if it’s been a year and makeout forever.”
My defenses were low this early, and before coffee, so I gave in to the warm lure of his arms and sank back to the covers. He yanked them back over us and snuggled close again. His warm breath caressed my neck in a gesture that felt like an embrace itself. With a sigh, I relished the feeling of his arms around me and heat on a frosty morning. What had I been missing all these years?
This. All of this.
Mark hummed when I absently ran the tips of my fingers across his growing stubble. It prickled gently.
“Did you know she was coming?” I asked.
He shook his head. He still hadn't even opened his eyes. The relaxed contours of his face were more wrinkled in the morning but somehow gentler. Calmer. More at ease and . . . normal.
“Do you think—”
“She'll love you,” he immediately said.
“I wasn't worried about that.”
“Good.” He rolled slightly away to yawn. “Some people are scared of Meg at first, or maybe just the reputation for being a bad-ass that precedes her, but she's really chill. Maybe protective, but chill.”
His comfort wasn't working. Until he'd said something, I hadn't felt that nervous about it. But now I wondered if I should. Before I could dive too far into that thought, he kicked the blankets off. Chilly air replaced the lovely warmth we'd been snuggling in and I fought off a scowl. If Mark saw me protesting, he'd probably burrow back in for the next hour, refuse to let me go, and then Megan would really have a great first impression of me.
“C'mon,” he yawned, a hand held out. “I'll make the coffee. Let's get this over with.”
With that ominous thought, I trailed above Mark down the ladder and into a mostly-warm cabin.
Certainly wasn't as cold as last night, but still chilly. A blanket of fog lay on the world outside. The storm had moved on not long ago, leaving wisps of fog clinging to the canyon walls. Scudding clouds crossed a low gray sky. Wet snow bowed tree branches to the ground.
Not far away, out the window over the sink, I caught a glimpse of a woman in black yoga pants, furry boots, and a head of dark brown hair jump into Justin's waiting arms. He caught her and whirled them both around in a sparkling eddy of falling snow. Atticus bounded happily through the drifts around them, barking.
That adorable reunion calmed the tension that still clung to my ribs with tenacious fingers. Although the mountain lion was the most likely culprit for Atticus's late-night barking session, in my mind I hadn't been able to rule Joshua out entirely.
Mark yawned every thirty seconds as he puttered around, built the fire back up and fired up the coffee machine. I stumbled around coffee cups and pods and tried to pull my thoughts together.
A quick warm shower, a new set of clothes, and pulling my hair out of my face did wonders to restore my brain. When I emerged from the bathroom, Mark had some semblance of humanity restored to his face. He didn't wake up well most days. This sleepy, cozy morning seemed even harder to untangle from, and I wished we could have snuggled in bed all morning.
He opened his mouth to say something, but the back door opened. A snowy Atticus bounded by, shaking snow all over the place. Justin followed, his arm wrapped around the girl that must be Megan.
She ripped a white snow hat off her head as she entered, saw me standing in the bathroom doorway, and smiled. Vestiges of Mark lived in her eyes, and JJ in her face shape. She had his sculpted cheekbones, but Mark's spark of vivacity.
“You must be the infamous Stella Marie,” she said.
Something cold came into my stomach at that, but I played it off with a smile. “Infamous?” My eyes widened. “That sounds ominous.”
She laughed but didn't release Justin. Or, more aptly, he didn't release her. They stood in the hallway together, looking equally as powerful and adorable as I'd expected. If there was any woman that matched Justin's easy confidence, Megan was that woman. I envied her natural presence in a room.
“I'm Megan,” she said. “My dad told me how much he likes you. Mom is dying because she hasn't met you yet. And may I thank you, on behalf of our entire family, for saving Mark from the world’s worst ideas the past couple of years.”
A paper cup sailed out of the kitchen to land right on the back of her head. Megan glared good-naturedly at him, but Mark feigned innocence. Justin pulled her farther into the cabin, and only then did I notice that she carried a couple of sacks.
“Breakfast burritos, brother!” she called and tossed them onto the table. “I bring them as a peace offering.”
Mark wilted into a chair and grabbed the closest bag. “All is forgiven!” he declared in a grating operetta. Then he tossed a foil-wrapped something to me. “Stella, these breakfast burritos are the best. You gotta try them.”
Any awkwardness that might have come from the fact that I clearly slept in Mark's house with him never arose. Justin, Meg, Mark, and I cluttered around the small table barely big enough for two and fell into an instant discussion about breakfast foods. Megan spent most of her time staring or laughing at Justin. He kept a sturdy arm around the back of her chair and returned the doting attention.
My stomach curled at the breathtaking sight of such . . . abandonment in the face of love and happiness.
Watch out, my brain wanted to scream at them. What if this all goes away? What if you lose each other?
But I turned that away and, for the first time since Megan arrived, looked at Mark. He caught my gaze and winked. The rankled, crinkly feeling inside me faded. His hand found my knee and rested there while he leaned back in his chair and said to Justin, “So, Atty had a good time last night.”
Megan eyed his arm for a moment but said nothing.
Justin let out a long breath. “I think your kitty came to visit, but I can't be sure. Haven't looked for tracks yet.”
“Hear it?”
Justin shook his head. “Nah. I wouldn't let Atty out of the cabin until I could get a rope on him.” He motioned behind the cabin. “He was barking toward the lake. I'll go out soon and see what I can find.”
“Probably obscured by now.” Mark glanced out the window. Wind blew snow into swirls, but none fell from the low ceiling anymore. Justin shrugged.
“I'll try.”
Megan's eyebrows rose as she swallowed a bite of burrito. “Found a new pet, Mark?”
“Well, no one wants me to get horses . . .”
She laughed, then leaned back in her chair and brought her feet onto the seat. Justin ran a hand over the top of her back.
“I ran into a guy named Benjamin when I stopped for coffee at the Frolicking Moose,” she said. “They've opened for to-go orders now that remodeling is almost done. It was Maverick's brother.”
“Benjamin is working there now?”
“No, just visiting. Ellie was running it. Have you met Benjamin?”
Mark's head tilted. Megan's tone had changed just enough to tell me there was more to what she said, but I couldn't figure out what it might be.
“The MMA fighter?” he asked.
She nodded. “He's here for a few months.”
“Why?”
“Hoping to get ready for a fight.” Her eyebrows rose. “But he's causing quite a stir in town. A reporter from Jackson City tried to corner him for an interview. Maverick was pretty pissed of
f when I got there.”
Mark's eyes widened. “Seriously?”
She shrugged. “Apparently, Benjamin is very private. He can’t find a place to get rid of the press.”
For a moment, I couldn't tell whether Mark's sudden fascination had something to do with Benjamin himself or the commotion caused in such a small mountain town. Did Mark follow MMA fights or something?
Mark dug around his pockets—he was still in his sweats—for his phone. Then he held up a finger and disappeared up the ladder. By the time he got to the top, he was already speaking to someone.
“How are things?” Justin asked me, and I was grateful he picked up the conversation next. “Any new bookings?”
“Not yet. We set up a plan last night. I received everything from Lizbeth and was able to get my head around what needs to be done. It took a while, but I feel like I have a grip on it now.”
“Another spreadsheet?” he asked with a grin.
I laughed. “Yes. Several. It felt wonderful.”
“You sound like Lizbeth,” Justin said, and I felt a lightning bolt all the way to my heart. The sudden realization that I could just be a shadow of the woman Mark really wanted hit me right then. Could Mark have attached on to me because I reminded him of Lizbeth? From what little I'd seen from her emails and the company, she was organized, on top of things, and not afraid to be a bit bossy.
Familiar, indeed.
Megan glanced at me with a sly smile, saving me from a sudden, breathless spiral. “You must be a saint, Stella, to stay here with Mark.”
There was a teasing note in her tone, but it set my teeth on edge all the same. The urge to rise to his defense overcame me in a flash.
“Not at all,” I replied quietly. “Mark is . . .”
Only a moment of hesitation lay in my broken response, but in it, I comprehended that I had a choice. Throw myself into a clear path with him, or hold back. Despite Megan's obvious love for her brother, I couldn't help but wonder if it was comments like you must be a saint to stay with Mark that had Mark bracing himself whenever he felt like he was too much. Whenever he wanted to be himself but wasn't quite sure what the response would be.
I tilted my chin up.
“Mark is amazing and I'm incredibly grateful that he's putting up with me.”
An inscrutable expression crossed her face. In the space of a few seconds, she rotated through several emotions. Surprise. Annoyance. Then a sort of clarity. Justin cleared his throat and squeezed her shoulder. She blinked, pulled out of it, and opened her mouth to say something, but Mark thudding down the ladder stopped her.
“Sorry!” he cried, snatching his coat off a peg on the wall. He stepped into boots and didn't bother lacing them, but did stop to press a hasty kiss to my cheek before he grabbed his car keys and yanked the door open. “I'll be back in three hours!”
The slamming door escorted him out.
All of us stared at each other, stunned in the wake of his quick disappearance. Seconds later, the Zombie Mobile roared to life.
Megan leaned forward. “You're right, Stella,” she said. “He is amazing. Thank you for reminding me.”
“I—”
She held up a hand to stop me. “You did the right thing. Sometimes I need to be put in my place.”
Chastising his sister. What a great first impression. Despite my concern, I could tell I'd earned Megan's respect. And maybe that wasn't an easy thing to earn.
“He's crazy about you, you know,” she said. “I can tell. I haven't seen Mark like this . . . ever.”
“Like what?” I asked, my voice raspy.
“Like himself,” Justin said with a laugh.
“Normally when Mark has a date or a girlfriend, he's different. Subdued. Quiet, even. And yes, such a thing is possible.” She frowned. “Just . . . different. This idiot is the same idiot that I grew up with, and that is very telling. I mean he just up and left in the middle of breakfast without explanation and no one here batted an eye.”
Justin laughed again. “Definitely being himself.”
My heart registered an emotion deeper than I'd ever expected to feel. It thudded around my chest for a while, like it wasn't sure where to go. I didn't know what to do with it, so I just let it flail for a few minutes until I could wrangle it back under wraps.
“Thanks.” I swallowed and managed a wry smile. “I think.”
Megan studied me without reservation. “Just don't break his heart? He's had it broken so many times. He's . . . the divorce wasn't easy, and although he'll lie to me until the day he dies, I can see his face when Lizbeth is around.”
My eyes widened.
Megan smiled. “Yeah, I know how he feels about Lizbeth. Mark thinks he's so suave and mysterious, but the man wears his heart on his face.”
“Does JJ know?” I asked.
Both of them shook their heads simultaneously and my lips twitched with a smile. Had they already reached that point in their relationship where they thought the same thing? Was that a phase?
“Doubtful,” Megan murmured, “although JJ does know Mark better than anyone else on this planet, so maybe.”
She looked to Justin with a questioning expression and he just shook his head and said, “Nah. JJ doesn't see it.”
“If he does,” Megan continued with a shrug, “it certainly hasn't concerned him at all. Mark takes on a lot. He's always been the glue between us siblings and it's weighed on him. Even though he wouldn't admit it. Just like JJ leaving has been hard.”
“I won't break his heart,” I whispered.
And the promise rang all the way into the deepest caverns of my heart because it had the same echoes of trust that Mark had in himself. Maybe he really was rubbing off on me in great ways.
22
Mark
Leaves scattered past my feet as I crossed the parking lot of the Frolicking Moose and stepped inside. To the right, four women crowded around the back of a car. Three of them were bent to their phones, the fourth had her eyes darting at the coffee shop ahead of me, then back. Despite the chill, their short skirts fluttered in the wind.
I grinned.
This was better than I expected.
When I stepped inside, Ellie's light eyes peered at me from behind the counter, where she stood at the drive-thru window. Normally, she had a wild look in her eyes. She was a true child of the outdoors. I'd been hiking with her, and she'd always been a beast. There was a drive of competitiveness I admired about her, but something dim lived in her expression now. No doubt that had everything to do with Devin Blaine's unexpected departure.
“What're you doing here?” she asked, then passed a drink to someone outside. Ellie had always been tough and hard to impress, but now that Devin had ditched, she appeared to have moved to permanently pissed off.
“Hey, Ellie.”
She stared at me. I stepped up to the counter, which was a mixture of old and new. Some of the wooden beams that the construction company had pulled down from overhead were repurposed into new cabinetry to keep a mountain-like feel. Lizbeth had created half a dozen Pinnable boards that she talked about constantly while the Frolicking Moose went into full reconstruction in the spring and early summer. Instead of an old fishing stop pretending to be a coffee shop, the new Frolicking Moose had been reborn as mountain funky—a perfect blend of new and old.
That was Bethany—constantly turning things around and making them better. Maverick included.
“Mav is here, right?” I asked.
She nodded. “Upstairs.”
“Thanks.”
“Did you see the creep in the car?” she asked, tilting her head to the right with a scowl.
“Yeah, on my way in.”
“What's he want?” Her gaze darted to the clock above the front entrance. “I've tracked him there for twenty-three minutes. If he's there for seven more, I'm confronting him.”
Trust Ellie to know every single person that surrounded her and for what amount of time.
“He's not
here to cause trouble for you,” I said. “I recognize him.”
Her lips rounded into an O when understanding dawned. The guy was a reporter at the Jackson City Gazette. He'd done a piece on Adventura after it opened up.
“You doing good?” I asked. “I miss having you at Adventura with your sister.”
Ellie’s lips thinned. There were all kinds of unspoken sentences there. With Devin, I could have added, but didn't. Miss seeing you joke around with him. Miss the way he always made you laugh so much.
“Great,” she muttered, then softened. “And thanks. I'll head out your way soon.”
“Hey, I'm sorry about Devin.”
If her jaw tightened any further, her teeth would snap. She shot me the coldest of glares, but I ignored it. Ellie was just like my dad, all bluster.
“Did you want something to drink?” she asked frostily. I headed for the hallway and called over my shoulder as I slipped to the back.
“Not today, thanks!”
The short hallway led to a pair of winding spiral stairs that the fire hadn't touched. From the loft came the low murmur of male voices. While I climbed, I forced my heart to slow and my mind to calm. If I wanted to take this opportunity, I had to be very careful, and very casual. I grabbed the newspaper that I'd balled up in my back pocket as I took the last few stairs.
When I reached the top, an open door into a brand new loft greeted me. Two brothers, equal in height, stood with their backs to me. Maverick, the one with the half-metal leg, stood on the right side of the room and studied paint cans with a tilted head. Benjamin, his younger brother, held a roller in his hands. Ben was tighter and more bound, like a fighter. His hair was cropped close to his face these days, but I'd seen it in between fights, when it was occasionally longer.
“Mav, you suck at colors,” Benjamin said. “What is fuschia anyway?”
“Shut up.”
The walls were half painted with primer already when I knocked on the door frame. “Interrupting anything?” I asked.
Mav glanced back and grinned. “Hey! Wondered where you've been.” Benjamin looked back when Mav smacked him in the arm. “Ben, this is Mark. He's the one that owns that summer camp I was telling you about.”
