Sable Peak (The Edens)

The check on my kitchen counter was annoying me. It snared my attention for what felt like the billionth time since I’d left it by the coffee pot earlier. It was pale blue and printed with black ink. Simple. Standard. But for as many times as I’d looked at it today, it might as well have been neon yellow with three-dimensional letters and a flashing strobe light.

Griffin had given it to me today when I’d gone to his place to finish up the rework of his corrals. When the last panel had been put into place, he’d asked me to come inside. Then he’d handed over that check.

My paycheck.

It certainly wasn’t the first. He’d been paying me when he paid the other ranch hands. But today’s check was the first I didn’t want.

I hadn’t filled out Eloise’s direct deposit form either.

Working on the ranch was my job. A job I’d always enjoyed. Not loved. Enjoyed. It, along with the work I did at the hotel, paid the bills.

I wasn’t a man who needed wealth to feel successful. I counted blessings, not pennies. My good fortune came from those I loved, especially the little girl asleep for her afternoon nap and the woman who had captured my heart in a matter of weeks.

But I still needed money. Allie would need to go to college one day. I’d love to take Vera on a trip somewhere. Maybe we’d fly to the desert this winter and escape the snow.

It should be enough. Working for my family’s ranch, living to make Allie and Vera smile and build a future together should be enough.

It wasn’t enough.

Vera’s words from last week kept haunting me. Every time I looked at that paycheck, I heard her voice.

You were born to fly.

That woman knew me arguably better than I knew myself. She was right. It was time to finally make a move. But what? Crop-dusting was … crop-dusting. There wasn’t a lot of need for it in this area of Montana because the land was rugged. More trees than prairie. More cattle than wheat.

There was flying during forest fire season, but that would keep me away from home for months in a bad fire year. I couldn’t be apart from Allie or Vera for that long.

Maybe I could start a flight school in Quincy. I’d probably have one student a year, at most.

Or … we moved.

I loved flying. No question. And if I had no attachments, I’d go back to Alaska and fly every day. But that wasn’t where I wanted to raise Allie. And I wouldn’t move Vera. Not only because she was so intent on finding her father, but because she needed Montana. She needed Quincy. She needed the Edens.

And if we did find Cormac Gallagher, then I really wasn’t sure what we’d do.

We hadn’t talked about Cormac since that day on Sable Peak. We hadn’t gone hiking again. Vera had been busy studying, taking her two exams and working. When she came to the cabin every evening, the last thing I wanted was to weigh her down with anything heavy, so I hadn’t asked about her father. We hadn’t discussed the FBI agent either.

Swenson had left two days after talking to Vera at Eden Coffee. I’d asked Eloise to tell me when he’d checked out of the hotel. For now, I could put him out of my mind. But not Cormac.

Maybe the reason I hadn’t brought it up to Vera was because I still wasn’t sure what to make of it. What to think of Cormac. Of Vera’s mother.

Norah. Her name was Norah. As far as I could remember, I’d never heard Vera say that name. In two years, I couldn’t recall a single time when she’d spoken her sisters’ names either.

And up until last week, she hadn’t talked about Cormac.

That bastard had tried to strangle my sister. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to let that go. He could have killed her, whether he’d intended to or not. Whether he’d done it to protect Vera or not. He’d choked my sister.

How was I supposed to be okay with this? How was Lyla? Or Vance?

The crunch of wheels on gravel tore me from my thoughts, and I walked out of the kitchen to the front door, opening it as Vance’s truck parked beside mine.

He was dressed for work in a button-down Quincy Police Department shirt, his badge and gun holstered on the belt of his jeans. He carried a vase of pink roses as he walked to the porch and climbed the stairs. “Hey.”

“Nice flowers.”

“They’re for Vera. Figured she’d probably enjoy them more if they were here than at the loft.”

“Come on in.” I jerked my chin for him to follow me inside, then closed the door behind us. “I was just thinking about you.”

“That sounds dangerous.” He set the vase down, then leaned against the counter, like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

“I was, uh, thinking about Cormac.”

“Ah.” Vance nodded. “How much did Vera tell you?”

“Enough. Not everything. But enough.”

“Sorry.” His shoulders drooped. “We probably should have come clean with the truth a while ago, but …”

“You’re protecting him too.” What was it about Cormac Gallagher that inspired so much loyalty?

“We’re protecting Vera. We’re just trying to do what’s best for her. If Cormac goes to prison, she’ll be devastated.”

Yeah, it would break her heart. And knowing her, if Cormac was arrested, she’d go visit him every week. That was not the life I wanted for her.

“And Lyla?” I asked. “How does she feel about it?”

“Conflicted,” Vance said. “We both are. I’ll never forgive him for what he did to her. But … it’s complicated.”

Complicated. As much as I hated that word, I understood. My feelings toward Madison would always be complicated. And that was it. They were just complicated.

There was no making sense of it. No matter how hard I tried, not everything was cut and dry, black and white. Sometimes, it was a goddamn muddy mess.

“What are the flowers for?” I asked.

Vance didn’t answer. He stared off into space, a sheen of tears in his eyes.

Fuck.

“It’s today,” I guessed. The anniversary of the night that had changed Vera’s life. Her sisters’ deaths.

Vance nodded.

I dragged a hand over my face. “She didn’t say anything.”

Vera had left for work this morning like she had all of the other mornings this week. She’d played with Allie over a cup of coffee, then kissed me goodbye before heading into town. Last night, while we’d watched TV on the couch, she hadn’t mentioned a thing about today. She hadn’t hinted that it was significant.

“No, I doubt she would.” Vance sighed. “Last year, she pretended like it was just another day. Wouldn’t talk to me about anything. Would hardly look at me. Year before that, she avoided me completely. She went hiking and didn’t come back until after dark.”

“Looking for Cormac?”

“Probably.”

Damn it. Was she at work today? She’d promised not to go searching for Cormac alone, but what if she’d done it anyway? I’d understand. Today of all days, I’d understand.

“She’s at work,” Vance said, reading my thoughts. “Drove by on my way out. Saw her through the windows.”

“You didn’t want to deliver those flowers in person?”

He shook his head. “I think she wants to pretend it never happened. That’s what she did all those years with Cormac. When I found them, he told me she refused to talk about it. And when he explained it all, she wasn’t there. She’d left so she wouldn’t have to hear it.”

My heart twisted. The pain Vera must keep locked inside. The secrets. How could she bear it?

“I’d better get back to work.” Vance shoved off the counter and walked toward the door.

But before he slipped out, I put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” He gave me a sad smile, then headed for his truck, waving as he backed out and drove away.

Vera wasn’t the only person who mourned those girls today. Did Cormac know what day it was?

If something happened to Allie, I—

No. I couldn’t even think about that. The grief Cormac must have felt. The grief he’d always carry.

Instead of dragging Vera into the wilderness, he should have left her behind where she could have gotten help. But he’d lost two daughters. Could I really blame him for not wanting to lose another?

Damn. Yeah, it was complicated.

I stood on the porch, staring into the distance until long after the dust had settled from his tires.

How did I help Vera if I didn’t know what had actually happened? What did I say?

“Daddy.” Allie’s voice pulled me back inside as she came out of her room, fists rubbing sleepy eyes.

“Hi, Sprout.” I went and picked her up. “Did you have a good nap?”

She snuggled into my shoulder, eyelids still heavy. So we cuddled on the couch until she woke up enough to go with me outside to do some more work on the firepit.

It was dark by the time Vera’s headlights flashed outside. Hours past closing time at Eden Coffee. But she’d had to do an assignment for one of her classes and said she might just stay at the cafe after closing to knock it out before the weekend.

Had she stayed at the coffee shop? Or had she done something alone tonight, something to honor her sisters?

“Hey.” She came inside, as beautiful as ever. Tired, but no more than any other night following a long day at the coffee shop. If not for Vance, I never would have known about today.

“Hi, darlin’.” I shut off the TV and stood from the couch. When she walked through the door to this house, she got a kiss. And even though I still wasn’t sure what to say, even after thinking about it for hours, she was getting that kiss.

So I crossed the room, framed her face in my palms and kissed that perfect mouth.

She smiled as she toed off her shoes, gripping my forearm to keep her balance. That smile wavered when she glanced past my shoulder and saw the roses on the counter.

“Those are from Vance.”

“Oh.” It was her sad oh. The sound of realization that she couldn’t keep everything hidden, not from me. Vera’s eyes closed, her shoulders slumped. “He told you. What today is.”

“Why didn’t you?”

She let me go and walked to the counter, reaching out to touch a bloom. But she yanked her finger away before it could skim a petal.

“The thorns are on the stems, Peach.”

She stared at the flowers, and if I wasn’t standing here, I had a hunch she’d toss them in the trash.

“Want to talk?”

“No.”

I sighed and walked up behind her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Then I kissed her hair. “Vera—”

“Where’s Allie?”

“Asleep.”

She tore herself out of my hold. “I’m going to go kiss her good night.”

Her silky hair, tied up in a ponytail, swished across her shoulders as she left for Allie’s room.

I scrubbed both hands over my face. If only I knew what to say to get her to open up. To just let it out. But she wasn’t just kissing my daughter good night. She was fortifying walls, adding another layer of bricks and chains.

When she emerged, easing Allie’s door closed, her shoulders were pinned, chin lifted. Her hands might have well been raised into fists, ready to defend those walls.

“Vera.” I put a hand to my heart, then held it out, palm open. “I’m here.”

“I … can’t.” Her voice cracked. “I can’t talk about it. Please, Mateo. Don’t ask.”

“It kills me to know you’re hurting and trying so hard to hide it. You don’t have to. Not from me.”Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

She dropped her chin.

“What can I do?”

“Help me keep it locked away.”

“Keep what locked away?”

“All of it,” she whispered, lifting her gaze. In those pretty brown eyes, a plea. Don’t push.

Then I wouldn’t push.

“I don’t want to be a hired hand or a maintenance man,” I blurted. It felt cathartic to let it out. To voice the thought that felt like a betrayal to my family and a balm to my soul.

I didn’t want to be a hired hand or a maintenance man. Or I didn’t want to only be those things.

“What if I started a flight school?” This wasn’t at all what I wanted to talk about tonight, but for tonight, it would do. I’d leave those walls alone.

She blinked. “A flight school?”

“Yeah. There isn’t one in Quincy. It would be small. There aren’t many pilots in town, but right now, anyone wanting to learn has to travel to Missoula. I doubt I’ll make much money. If any. Hell, I doubt I’ll have many students.”

I walked over to take her hand, then I pulled her around the house as I shut off the lights.

“I’ll still have to keep working on the ranch for Griffin and at the hotel for Eloise. But if I can drum up a student or two, it’d mean I’d get to fly.”

Quincy was growing. People were leaving the larger cities in the Pacific Northwest to raise families in small towns that ran at a slower pace. The elementary school was at capacity and this year’s graduating class was the largest in a decade.

Maybe a newcomer would want to learn how to fly. Maybe a millionaire or two would move to town and need a private pilot to help them commute to Denver or Salt Lake on occasion. Maybe every couple of years, a high school student would dream of getting his or her wings.

“What do you think?” I asked when the last light was off and we were standing outside the bedroom door.

Vera lifted our clasped hands until my knuckles were resting over her heart. “I love this idea.”

“Me too.” There was plenty to think through, but it wasn’t the first time I’d tossed around the idea. But it was the first time I could see myself making it happen.

It was her doing. Her encouragement.

With my free hand, I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and untucked it. Maybe I’d changed the subject for a few minutes, but that sadness was still so deep in her gaze.

It hadn’t been like that this morning. She’d hidden it well. But after a long day, there was no masking it now. That agony in her gaze was like a knife to the heart.

“I wish I could take it from you.”

She swallowed hard. “I would never let you.”

No, she’d keep it all herself, thinking it would save me pain. Didn’t she realize it hurt to see her hurt? Frustration swelled, escaping my chest as a low, menacing growl. “Stubborn woman.”

There was nothing to do about her secrets, not tonight. And if she wanted to forget, to block it all out, then I’d play that game.

I wrapped her in my arms and picked her up off her feet, lifting her high enough so we were eye to eye.

She threaded her fingers through my hair, her nails scraping against my scalp as she brought them to my nape. “Thank you.”

“Say it with a kiss.”

Her mouth dropped to mine, kissing the corner of my lips. She peppered gentle, soft touches from side to side, until finally, that sweet tongue darted out for a taste.

I held her, feet off the floor, her chest crushed to mine, until I was done letting her play. Then I carried her into the bedroom, closing the door behind us before stripping her out of her tee and jeans.

When she was dressed only in her pale pink bra and panties, I tugged loose the elastic band around her ponytail, spilling that coppery hair around her shoulders. Then I pointed to the bed. “On your back.”

A smile tugged at her mouth before she brought her lower lip between her teeth. She obeyed, she always obeyed, and climbed onto the bed. Red and gold locks spread across the white quilt like flames.

“Close your eyes.” When they were closed, I stripped out of my T-shirt and tossed it aside.

Vera’s breathing turned ragged as the sound of my belt unbuckling and my jeans being shoved to the floor filled the room.

My cock sprang free, hard and aching to plunge inside her tight body. But tonight, we’d drag this out. We’d see how many orgasms I could coax from her before she passed out.

I moved to stand at the edge of the bed, taking her knees and pushing them apart. The sight of her on my bed never got old. I fisted my shaft, giving it a firm stroke. Then I dropped to my knees and started worshiping her skin with my tongue, starting at her hips and working my way across her panties, leaving them on to tease.

“Mateo.” She squirmed, arching those hips toward my mouth.

I kissed the inside of her thigh, exactly where she was the most ticklish.

Her giggle was music to my ears. “Stop torturing me.”

“No.” I moved to the other leg while dragging a finger over the center of her panties, earning a hiss. “Soaked. Always so wet for me.”

A whimper escaped as I pulled her panties aside, feasting my eyes on that glistening pink flesh.

“First, I’m going to fuck you with my fingers. Then you’ll get my tongue. And after you come twice, you can have my cock.”

“Yes,” she breathed.

I slid a hand up her stomach to her bra, lifting a cup to expose a breast. Then I rolled her nipple and gave it a pinch.

She yelped but pushed into my touch, wanting it again.

This time as I pinched her, I slipped a finger inside her wet heat.

“Oh,” she gasped, her inner walls already fluttering. Damn it, she was perfect. The way she responded to my touch, the sounds she made. Like she was made for me.

Like she was always meant to be mine.

I took my finger out and popped it into my mouth. “You taste so sweet.”

“Mateo, make me come. I need to come.”

“Patience.” I kissed her hip, then slid two fingers in this time, working them in and out. I curled my hand to massage that spot inside that made her shake while my palm flattened on her clit.

“Baby.” Her breath hitched.

Fucking hell. She wasn’t the first woman to call me baby. But she’d be the last. “Say it again.”

“Baby.” She arched into my touch, and the moment her toes curled, I grinned, loving the hell out of orgasm number one.

Number two was twice as sweet. With her taste on my tongue, I picked her up and moved her deeper into the bed to settle in the cradle of her hips.

She panted, her skin covered in a sheen of sweat. The flush of her cheeks had spread across her chest and breasts.

“You have never looked more beautiful.”

Her eyes fluttered open.

“I—” Loved her.

I loved her.

It was a fight, but I held back the words. Not today. Not with those pink roses on the kitchen counter. So instead of telling her how I felt, I showed her, loving her with every stroke that brought us together.

We tumbled over the abyss in tandem, falling farther and farther until we were nothing but tangled limbs and thundering hearts.

When we’d regained our breaths, I settled her into the crook of my shoulder.

Her leg was draped across mine, her breath whispering over the plane of my chest.

By rights, we should both be exhausted. But when I closed my eyes, sleep was impossible. Maybe because I could feel the tension in Vera’s shoulders.

She was trying not to cry.

What happened that night? It was on the tip of my tongue to beg for the truth. For her. For me. I was flying in the dark here. How did I help her without a light? Especially when she wouldn’t let me? What happened?

I swallowed that question and traded it for another. A question similar to the one that had given me a purpose on one of my darkest days. “What should we call it?”

Her fingertips drew invisible swirls over my bare chest. “Call what?”

“The flight school. What should we call it?”

She rose up, tears swimming in those pretty eyes. Hair tumbling around us.

I pushed it off her face, tracing the line of her cheek with my thumb. “Help me think up a name.”

“Okay.” She snuggled into my chest and returned to drawing patterns on my skin. “Let’s start with the As.”