Page 2 of Secrets on the Mountain

Donner's already two steps ahead of his new friend, waiting impatiently for a clue which direction he should be headed in.

"Through there," Raine turns to me and points at an open space between two buildings, "there's a door on your left marked 'private' but it's not locked, the top of the stairs. Says 'office' on the door."

He gives me a nod and then points ahead to give Donner a direction to head. A few steps and then Raine stops and looks back at me.

"The stables are just over there," he hooks a thumb toward a roof in the distance. "We'll be in hollering distance."

* * *

Hurricane

The paperwork here in the office doesn't usually get to me. Since I got back to Moonshine Ridge and took over running the gold camp for Gran, it's been the one thing that's kept me sane. Normally, I find it easy to get lost in the spreadsheets, keeps the noise in my head down to a dull roar.

Lately it's been a lot harder for me to stay in the present, and that dull roar isn't the distant white noise that my past should be.

Maybe it's Raine. My kid brother; married and expecting a kid of his own next spring has me feeling some ways for sure.

He grew up while I was off the mountain. He'd been a lanky teenager: ditching school, fixing up that old truck, and chasing girls.

He was on the right path to end up just like our older brother when I left to go off to college.

Of course, at the time, Hayle was holding his shit together, stepping up to the plate after we lost dad and grandpa both at the same time. That's the only reason I took the scholarship, knowing I could count on my big brother to be back here, taking care of our family.

It's been five years now since I got back home.

They all think I left the league because Hayle went MIA. What they don't know is that I left because playing ball meant selling my soul. And, since it had already cost me the only thing worth making that trade for, I didn't see the point.

It wasn't until I got back to the Ridge that I even found out Hayle had walked away. Left Gran to run the camp on her own, left Mom to raise our baby sister on her own, left our kid brother to fill shoes he was still too damn young to wear, left everything and everyone in pieces for me to have to pick up as soon as I got back when all I'd wanted to do was crawl back into my cave and lick my own wounds.

Instead, our big brother started a bar fight he deserved to lose, tucked his tail between his legs, and disappeared. Left his house in the Gulch exactly the way it had been the night Cedar McAllister broke his nose.

Now my baby sister is worrying about whether or not her big brother is going to show up in time to keep his promise and walk her down the aisle at her wedding next year, and all I can think is that if that fucker ever does show up, I'm going to break his nose again.

The restlessness finally gets to me. Trips down memory lane never end up in a good neighborhood, and if I don't get some fresh air, I'm likely to smash something that'll take more time to replace than I have patience for.

Leaving the office unlocked, I stomp down the stairs and throw the door down there open with more force than it was built to handle.

By the time I make the turn to follow the narrow space between the buildings, I'm about to break into a run, feeling the anxiety building, I know old demons are catching up to me again.

Something stops me cold in my tracks. I might as well have run face first into a brick wall for the way the air gets pushed out of my lungs.

Because standing right in front of me is the last person I ever thought I'd see again.

She looks different. Different than she does in my memories or the dreams I like to pretend I don't still see her in. Different than I thought she would if I ever found her.

Her curves have filled out, plush and ripe and not hidden at all under the loose-fitting tunic blouse that hangs long over a pair of leggings. Her hair's pulled back tight. No-nonsense, in a clip that hides the rich chocolate color that doesn't show the blonde highlights I recall, and gives no hint to the length it is now. A few strands of gray highlight the fine hairs near her ears.

There's not a trace of make up on her face.

She doesn't look much like the woman I last saw, sitting beside a hospital bed in a post-op surgery center. But those sea-glass green eyes are unmistakable.

There's only one reason I can think of why Junie would be here and the fool I am doesn't question it.

Sweeping her into my arms, I pull her in for the kiss I've waited five and a half years for.

The woman in my arms stands stiff, her lips cold and sealed against mine. Such a contrast to the eager warmth that I remember that it jars me back to the present and I remember that's not us anymore. But not before Junie melts against me, opening for me and letting me in. Returning the kiss with a hunger that has me forgiving her everything.

"Cane."

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