Sable Peak (The Edens)

Rain drizzled through the gaps in the trees. Mist cloaked the mountains and water dripped from the brim of my hat. My coat and clothes were soaked.

I’d been hiking around Sable Peak for hours, searching for any sign of my father. But there was nothing to find. No animal snares. No charred remains of a campfire. No footprints in the mud.

No Dad.

But I kept going, kept pushing. He had to be out here somewhere.

The steady rain drowned out any sound. If he was nearby, he’d find shelter. A place to stay dry. That had always been one of his most important rules. Stay dry. Stay warm. Stay hydrated. A person could go on an empty stomach for a day or two. But as long as we were dry, warm and had water, we’d survive.

He’d survive.

He was alive.

This far up into the mountains, there had to be a cave or something. I doubted Dad would have built a shelter. The hut he’d built years ago had been more for me than himself, so I wouldn’t have to sleep on the dirt each night.

I pulled up the sleeve of my coat, checking my watch. “Damn it.”

If I was going to make it to my car with enough time to get to Mateo’s for our Friday study date, I had to start back now.

“Gah.” A surge of anger welled. I bent and picked up a pinecone, throwing it against a nearby tree.

He was out here. I knew it down deep in my bones. He was out here. Why couldn’t I find him? Why couldn’t he find me?

He had to know I was searching. That I’d want to see him again.

Every hike, I left traces behind. There was no reason for me to mask my presence, so I didn’t bother. Footprints. A circle of rocks. My name spelled out in sticks with the date. Every hike, for two years, I’d left a marker.

Yes, the mountains were vast. Our chances were so, so small. But if I was searching for him, and he was searching for me, it had to happen. Eventually, it had to happen, right?

Dad would be watching trailheads. It was the logical place for me to start. So for our paths to clash, it was just a matter of timing. And persistence.

I’d spent countless hours poring over maps of the area. I was working section by section, tackling the landscape in pieces. I’d been up and down each local trail at least three times.

If I just kept going, if I kept pushing, I’d find him.

I had to find him.

Unless …

What if he’d found me already? What if he’d watched me leave those messages? What if he’d kept his distance intentionally?

My breath caught.

Was he hiding from me?

No. I refused to believe it. He wouldn’t ignore me. Would he?

“Dad!” My voice bounced off the trees before it was swallowed up by the steady drizzle of rain.

I shouted for him on every hike. I yelled and yelled, willing my voice to carry. Maybe if I screamed loud enough, he’d come running.

“Cormac Gallagher!”

A crow cawed in the distance, but otherwise, there was no sound. No one yelled back.

“If you can see me, you’d better come out here.” I fought the urge to stomp my foot like a child. “Dad!”

Nothing but the sound of my sinking heart.

I turned, chin tucked to watch my steps, and hiked the miles to my car. My arms and legs were shaking as I slid behind the wheel, exhaustion weighing heavy in every muscle. I stripped out of my coat, tossing it in the backseat along with my hat. My hair was soaking wet. So were my jeans. My toes were almost numb as they squished in my socks and boots.

Was this search pointless? Was I wearing myself thin for nothing?

I’d been doing this with the assumption that Dad wanted to be found. What if I’d been wrong? What if he’d never intended to see me again?

My nose stung with the threat of tears as I turned on the car, cranking the heat. The windshield wipers flew across the glass, scattering and smearing drops.

I hated storms, but at least this was just rain.

It was already five thirty, and there wasn’t time to go home for a hot shower before I’d agreed to be at Mateo’s, so when I pulled out of the parking area, I drove straight for the cabin. The backpack with my ground school books was in the trunk.

Other than a few texts to confirm we were meeting tonight, I hadn’t spoken to Mateo this week. We leapt from Friday to Friday.

The days in between gave me time to think. After all this time, after all the waiting and crushing, it was surprisingly hard to believe he was interested.

Why had I kissed him last week? I should have waited. I should have let him kiss me. But I’d acted on impulse because …

I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it wasn’t all that complicated. I’d just wanted to kiss him, so I’d kissed him. Then sprinted out of his house.

Without a doubt, I was doing everything wrong. How did normal women pursue men? What would it even feel like to be normal?

Normal felt as impossible to find as my dad.

The drive to the cabin was on muddy roads. Even with the heater on full blast, my clothes were too soaked to dry.

The last thing I wanted was to study, yet the temptation of Mateo was too much to resist. So I parked my car beside his truck, retrieved my backpack and made my way to the door.

It opened before I could knock.

Mateo looked as gorgeous as ever in a long-sleeved black T-shirt. He’d pushed the sleeves up his sinewed forearms. His jeans were faded and frayed, the denim soft from years of washes and wear. And his feet were bare. That was becoming my favorite part about these visits. Last week, he’d had bare feet too, and it added an intimacy to these visits. I was coming into his home, where he walked around barefoot.

“Hey.” Mateo’s gaze narrowed as he looked me up and down, taking in my clothes.

“I was hiking.” I shrugged. “It’s wet outside.”

“You don’t say.” He studied my face for a moment too long. “What’s the weather like?”

“Uh, raining?”

“In here.” He reached out and tapped my temple. “What’s the weather like in here? You look upset.”

“Oh.” I’d hoped he wouldn’t notice. What were my options again? Overcast. Broken. Scattered. Clear and a million. Definitely not the latter. “I guess … a little overcast.”

He hummed. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Everything. I couldn’t even articulate it right now.

“You can talk to me.”

Not about this. “It was just a long day. I lost track of time.”

“Where did you hike?”

Oh, he wasn’t going to like this. “Sable Peak.”

“Alone? You were supposed to call me.”

“I’m fine. Soaked but in one piece. There’s nothing to worry about.”

His expression hardened, but instead of delivering a lecture like Uncle Vance would have, he jerked his chin for me to come inside.

It smelled like wood polish and glass cleaner.

“Get those boots off.” Mateo closed the door. “Then come with me.”

I bent to untie my soggy laces. “Where’s Allie?”

Her toys were stowed in baskets and tubs instead of strewn across the floor.

“Sprout,” Mateo called. “Vera’s here.”

“Ve-wa!” That squeal was music to my ears. She came racing out of her bedroom wearing a pink superhero cape. Allie didn’t care that I was wet. She launched herself into my arms with a giggle.

“Hey, Jellybean.” I kissed her cheek, then set her down so she wouldn’t get rainwater on her clothes. “What are you doing?”

“Doss.”

“Doss?” I glanced up to Mateo for an interpretation.

“Dolls.”

“Ah. Dolls are fun.”

“Go.” She took my hand, pulling me through the house to her room.

When Mateo joined us, he brought along a pair of folded gray sweats and a white T-shirt. “You can wear these.”

“I’m sure I’ll dry soon.”

“You’re leaving puddles on the floor.”

“No, I’m—” Shit. There was a tiny puddle beside the hem of my pants. “Sorry.”

He chuckled. “Go change, Peach.”

Peach. That was the second time he’d called me by that nickname. I liked it. A lot.

I took the clothes and hurried to Allie’s bathroom, swapping wet for dry before pulling my hair into a messy topknot.

The pants dwarfed my legs, pooling at my ankles. I rolled the waistband twice after cinching the drawstring tight. The shirt might as well have been a tent, the sleeves draping past my elbows, but the cotton was warm, like it hadn’t been out of the dryer that long. Maybe he’d done laundry today along with cleaning. The scent of fabric softener and Mateo was a balm to my aching heart.

The clouds were clearing.

When I emerged into the living room, Allie had abandoned her dolls and tipped over a toy basket, spilling blocks and balls beside the coffee table.

“Better?” Mateo asked when I joined him in the kitchen.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He stepped close, raising his hand to my face. His thumb glided across my chin. “Feel like studying?”

“Honestly? No.”

“Then how about we go flying tomorrow instead?”

“I have to work at noon.”

“We’ll meet at nine. Hopefully this weather will pass. And tonight, we’ll just have a normal Friday evening. Good?”

Normal. Yes, I really wanted normal. “Good.”

“Hungry?”

“Starved. I’d even eat a burnt grilled ham and cheese.”

“I bought a take-and-bake pizza. Most likely, it will survive the oven unscathed.”

“I love pizza.” It was the one food I’d always craved those years in the woods. I hadn’t missed cheeseburgers or tacos or spaghetti and meatballs. But pizza. I’d spent four years missing pizza.

“Pepperoni with olives. That’s your favorite, right?”

“How …” How did he know that?

“Whenever we have pizza at Mom and Dad’s, you take a slice of the works and pick off every topping but the pepperoni and olives.” Mateo opened the fridge and pulled out a pepperoni pizza. Then he took a can of sliced olives from the cupboard.

The urge to cry or scream was so overwhelming I had to look away. It was too much. Today had been too much. I was angry at my father. I was frustrated with myself. I was stupidly happy that Mateo knew my favorite pizza toppings.

It was all too much. I wouldn’t talk to anyone about Dad. I wasn’t sure what to think about Mateo. The only girlfriends to confide in happened to be his sisters. The emotions were a storm of their own, raining down in heavy sheets, and with no way to let them out, they manifested as tears.

Don’t cry. Not in front of Mateo. Not here. But my chin quivered. That sting in my nose was burning like fire. I squeezed my eyes shut before a tear could escape.

Don’t cry, Vera.

A pair of large hands clamped around my hips. Then my feet were off the floor, and I was flying.

“Wh—” I gasped, my eyes popping open.

Mateo deposited me on the kitchen counter with a thud. “Take a breath, Vera.”

I tried to fill my lungs, but the air got lodged in my throat.

Mateo took my chin in his hand, holding my gaze. “Breathe.”

My inhale burned. But I breathed.

“You don’t have to right now,” he said. “But when you’re ready, you can talk to me.”

No, I couldn’t. If I cracked the lid on that box, if I let even a little bit of the pain free, it would break me into a thousand pieces. Besides, he couldn’t know the secrets about Dad.

“Pizza,” he said. “Yeah?”

I managed a nod.

He cupped my cheek, giving me a soft smile, then hoisted me off the counter. “Go relax.”

I shuffled to the living room, holding up the legs of the sweats as I walked, and curled into a corner to watch Allie.

She hefted a pink tub of Lego blocks from her toy stash and brought it over, dropping it in my lap. “He go, Ve-wa.”

“What should we build?”

Allie tapped her chin. It was something she’d picked up from Papa Harrison and was about the cutest thing I’d ever seen.

“A house?” I suggested. “Or a train?”

“Tain.”

“Good choice.” I opened the lid and took out the pieces to string together an alphabet train.

Mateo set the table and poured us each glasses of ice water. The scents of pepperoni and marinara and baking dough filled the air as the pizza cooked. And when it was done, we sat together, the three of us, eating a normal dinner, having a normal conversation about the work he’d done on the ranch today. We watched a normal, precious little girl make a mess with pizza and the olives she tried to poke with her finger.

I helped get her ready for a bath and stood at the door to the bathroom while he washed her hair. Allie would give him orders. He’d let her boss him around.

Mateo had always been mesmerizing. The two of them together? It was magic.

When she was dressed in lavender pajamas and ready for bed, he fixed me with a stare. “Don’t go.”

It wasn’t a request.

He disappeared to Allie’s room to rock her to sleep while I retreated to the living room.

I tried sitting on the couch, but the flutters in my belly made it impossible to stay still, so I cleaned up the toys.

Mateo emerged as I was kneeling beside the coffee table to dismantle the Lego train.

“Is she asleep?” My voice was breathy, my heart racing. Would he kiss me tonight? What else was he planning?

It dawned on me for the first time just how close we were to his bedroom.

He crooked his finger as he walked toward me.

He crooked his freaking finger.

It was so unexpected, so incredibly hot, my jaw dropped. A shiver raced down my spine.

“Stand up.”

I couldn’t stand. I could barely breathe.

Mateo held out a hand. As soon as my palm was in his, tingles went zinging to my elbow. He hauled me to my feet, taking me by the shoulders as he closed the gap between us.

My chest brushed against his. My nipples pebbled beneath my bra.

“You kissed me last week.”

I gulped. “Sorry?”

“You should be sorry.” His hands threaded into the hair at my temples. “You kissed me before I could kiss you back.”

“Oh.” My. God.

“Oh.” A grin stretched across his mouth as he bent closer. “My turn.”

Mateo sealed his mouth over mine, swallowing my gasp. He hummed, a sound so intoxicating and sinful, my body liquified. If not for the grip he had on my face, I would have crashed to my knees.

I melted against him, whimpering as he slid his tongue across my lower lip. He coaxed my mouth open, and when I parted, his tongue did a lazy swirl against mine. He tasted spicy and male and incredible.

My hands came to his chest, fisting his shirt.

His arms banded around me, holding me close, as his body, hard and strong, bent around mine.

I lifted up on my toes and snaked my arms around his neck, locking my body to his. Our tongues tangled and dueled. He nipped and sucked until I whimpered.

This kiss was better than I ever could have imagined. All those nights I’d wondered what it would be like to kiss Mateo? The dream couldn’t compete with reality.

I wanted to crawl inside him and never leave. The world beyond us vanished. It got fuzzy at first, the colors blurring and swirling, then it faded to nothing.

There were no fears. No pain.

It felt so good not to worry. Not to hurt. Not to think. It was like being numb to anything except Mateo. The relief was as addicting as his lips.

He slanted his mouth over mine, delving deep to explore every corner of my mouth. He growled against my lips, the vibration of his chest making me shiver.

Fire licked my veins. The pulse between my legs was almost unbearable. More. I needed more. I loosened my hold around his shoulders to reach between us, taking the hem of his shirt in my grip. I dragged it up his ribs, then slipped my fingers beneath the cotton and flattened my palms on his stomach. My fingertips traced the hard ridges and valleys of his washboard abs. God, I wanted this shirt off. I wanted to see him, all of him.

My hand slid higher, lifting the shirt as I splayed my fingers across his ribs. But before I could reach his chest, he shifted away.

“Fuck, Vera.” His breathing was as ragged as mine. His throat bobbed as his eyes locked with mine. Then he took a step away.

My heart plummeted as he righted his shirt.

That was it? We were stopping? Everything that had vanished during the kiss came rushing forward. The numbness faded.

“I promised you slow,” he said.

“I never asked for slow.”

“I don’t … I’m not …” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I want to do this right. For your first time.”

My first time? Oh. He thought I was a virgin. Considering my history, that made sense. “It wouldn’t be my first time.”

I’d had a boyfriend in high school and lost my virginity to him when I was sixteen. Seth Hendricks.

What was Seth doing now? Was he working or going to school? He’d been sweet and gentle. Dull. When Seth had kissed me, the world hadn’t faded away.

Tonight, I needed the world to fade away. I needed Mateo to kiss me again.

“Noted.” Mateo’s jaw ticked. What did that mean? Was he jealous? Disappointed? “I still think we should take it slow.”

Slow sounded a lot like rejection. Slow sounded a lot like pity.

I brushed past him for the bathroom, locking myself inside.

With fumbling fingers, I traded his sweats for the clothes I’d hung to dry. Except my jeans were still wet and hard to drag up my legs. My sweater was cold and smelled like rain and dirt. I didn’t bother with my socks.

With them shoved in a pocket, I came out of the bathroom and found Mateo waiting.

His hands were braced on his hips. “Might as well turn around and put those dry clothes back on. You’re not running out of here like this. Not again.”

He’d have to barricade the door to stop me. The look on his face said he might just do it.

We stared at each other in a silent standoff. Could I beat him for the door? I was fast. But probably not fast enough.NôvelDrama.Org © content.

“Daddy!” came a tiny voice from behind Allie’s closed door. That sweet girl had come to my rescue.

“Shit.” His nostrils flared and he held up a finger. “Do not leave.”

I stayed put until he crossed Allie’s threshold. Then I bolted, rushing for the door to yank on my boots. With my toes squelching in the wet insoles, I slipped out the door.

And drove home alone. Where I could suffer in peace.

Alone.