Page 8 of Secrets on the Mountain

That's not gonna happen though. She didn't come all the way up the Ridge to start over with me and our son, she came up here to sever the only claim I could still have on her.

Pulling my hand back, I hold on to that thought and grasp at the anger it gives me so I don't make a damn fool of myself thinking the way she kissed me back earlier means there's still a chance for us.

"I meant you're the one who wouldn't return my calls, Cane." The irritation in her voice tells me she's grasping at the same anger. "You're the one who blocked my number, you're the one who instructed his people not to transfer my calls. You're the one who returned all my mail unopened--" Junie's voice is rising, she's moved so she's on the edge of her seat, twisted to stare at me in the low flames of the gas fire.

"You're the one who had his lawyers threaten to charge me with stalking me if I continued to 'harass' you.

"The only reason you didn't know about Donner as soon as I did is because you kicked me out of your house and cut me out of your life like a fucking tumor before I even realized I was pregnant...you made it crystal clear that you didn't want to know what happened to me and you didn't care."

June's not the only one balanced on the edge of her chair and the nonsense she just shouted makes it a lot easier to stay mad at her.

"What the hell are you talking about? You're the one who walked out on me, June."

"Fuck you, Hurricane! Don't tell me what happened, I was there!"

"No, fuck you, June! Because I was there too. I know what happened too. You realized I wasn't making shit up when I said addiction was a problem in my family. You found out I was quitting the game and you didn't want to marry a junkie has-been, so you left."

"Excuse me, I what?"

The house is built solid. I used eight-inch studs in the exterior walls to beef up the insulation to save on heating costs through the mountain winters. June and Donner's room is on the front side of the house, with plenty of space between our sleeping boy and our rising voices out here on the back deck, but we both shoot glances toward the French doors now, aware that we're shouting.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Cane?" Junie's voice lowers in volume, but it doesn't lose its bite. "Rick came up to the house after you went on to rehab, gave me an envelope of cash and an apology for having to be your messenger boy."

4

JUNE

I can't read the look on Cane's face. Maybe being confronted with his actions after all this time has him realizing just how fucked up they were.

If he's processing just how his behavior led to him not knowing I was pregnant-- good. I hope it fucking stings. I hope the look I'm seeing on his face right now is just over five years of agony hitting him between the fucking eyes. I hope that look means he's feeling every day of hell I went through when his manager showed up at our door to tell me that Hurricane wanted me gone before he got home from physical therapy.

"Rick. Said. What?"

But when Cane grinds the words out slowly in one syllable sentences, I realize that what I'm seeing raging across his face is something far more intense than regret.

Most people would be afraid of the giant man staring at me with murder in his eyes right now. Most people would be smart to be afraid of Cane right now.

I'm not most people. I never was and, apparently, I never will be.

Despite the fact that he broke my heart, and the crappy way he did it, there's not a cell in my body that believes for a second that Hurricane would hurt me.

Right now though, I can't say the same for his former manager.

"Rick said you went into a rehab program that included intense training to get you back on the field after the surgery. You weren't allowed to have visitors or phone calls."

I take a moment to breathe, to give Cane time to breathe. He's clutching the edge of his chair so tightly, I'm worried he's going to split the thick wood slats into splinters.

"You'd been gone for about two weeks." I hear myself speaking slow and calm, like I'm trying to talk a grizzly bear down from a rampage. "Rick stopped by the house one afternoon. He was apologetic, he felt really bad, but he handed me some cash and said that you'd told him to move me out."

Cane's head drops, so I can't see his face anymore. He nods though, silently bidding me to keep going.

"He said that you were committed to getting back in top condition and you'd come to the conclusion that I was a distraction. You sent him to move me out of the house. You wanted me gone before you got home."

"You believed that?" The lethal look has left his eyes and when he looks at me now, all I see is misery. "You really thought I'd do that to you? To us? Shit, Junie, you really think I'd have chosen the fucking game over you?"

"What was I supposed to think, Cane? I didn't know where you went. Your phone was off, your voicemail was full. Rick seemed really upset, he said he'd tried to convince you to wait, see if you still felt the same way when the program was done.

"He said he told you to at least have the decency to tell me yourself, but you insisted that I had to be gone before you got back. He had a moving company come in and pack all my stuff up, he gave me money so I could relocate. He said he was sorry but that you never wanted to hear from me again."

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