Page 14 of Burly and Honorable

My knuckles ache from how hard I’m gripping the steering wheel. The truck’s engine hums steadily beneath us, but the silence between Hanna and me roars like a storm.

The road ahead twists through the forest, but the beauty of the mountain is lost on me right now. My only focus is Hanna and wanting to know what’s going to happen between us.

I should have kept my distance. I should’ve never touched her, never kissed her. But how the hell do I go back now? I don’t want to go back.

I clear my throat, forcing myself to keep my voice even, not to ask the question burning through my soul. “We’re almost there. You ready for the last stop?”

Her response is soft and filled with emotion. “I think so. I hope so.”

The vulnerability in her voice squeezes my chest. I glance at her. She looks so damn beautiful, even when she’s so far away from me.

“I’m not sure I am,” I admit, my voice quieter than intended.

Her head turns toward me, her brows drawing together slightly, but she doesn’t ask me to explain.

How can I tell her that I’m terrified of what comes next? That if this trip ends with her walking away, I don’t know if I’ll survive it? I’ve lost my best friend, the man who knew me better than anyone. Keenan saved my ass in the Army so many times.

I can’t lose Hanna, too.

CHAPTER 9

HANNA

It’s beautiful. You’re lucky to live in the middle of all this,” I tell Jordan. The mountains and forest stretch beneath us. Keenan and I visited Jordan up here, but the magnificent beauty of King Mountain and Silver Pine Ridge stuns me anew.

My legs are heavy as I step toward the overlook, the urn cradled tightly in my hands. Each step feels like a goodbye, not just to Keenan but to a part of myself I’m not ready to lose.

“This is it,” I exhale heavily, the urn in my arms heavy as we come to the final stop. I’m not sure I’m ready for this, but a part of me knows I am.

Kneeling on the rocky ledge, I place the urn in front of me, my hands trembling as I lift the lid.

I tip the urn slowly, watching as the remaining ashes spill out and the wind carries them away. The sight is beautiful in a way that makes my heart twist painfully. But now, a sense of closure I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel washes over me. It is time to let go of my grief.

“Goodbye, Keenan,” I whisper, my voice breaking. The tears come then, hot and unrelenting, and I don’t try to stop them.

Behind me, Jordan shifts, and then his arms are wrapped around me in the fiercest of bear hugs. His breath is jagged against my head, his chest heaving in a silent sob. I return Jordan’s hug, sharing my emotions of saying goodbye to this part of my life. I know he’s grieving as much as I am.

After hesitating about asking Jordan to join me on this trip, I’m so glad I did. After the night in the motel, after the Prospect Hills Founder’s Day Festival, my mind has been a tangled mess of emotions. I’d suspected Jordan had feelings for me, but from the moment I showed up on his porch on King Mountain, a new connection formed before my eyes.

The urn is empty now, its weight suddenly both heavier and lighter in my hands. I lower it to the ground, surprised at the calm coming over me.

The wind continues to swirl around Jordan and me, blowing the last traces of ash over the valley in front of us. I press my hand to my chest and say a final private farewell to Keenan.

Behind me, Jordan moves closer, his boots scuffing against the rocky ground. He kneels beside me, his presence a comfort greater than I imagined.

“You’ll always carry him with you. Always. We both will.”

I close my eyes, resting my head against his arm. The even rise and fall of his breathing is comforting, a rhythm that I want to be a part of.

But it’s not just comfort I feel. It’s more than that.

It’s the way his strength wraps around me, the way his voice makes me feel like I’m not alone, that he’ll help me keep the memory of Keenan alive.

It’s the way his hand moves in slow, soothing circles on my back, and I find myself wanting more. More of his touch. More of his strength. More of him.

I love him.

The thought hits me like a punch to the gut, and I pull back abruptly, startled by its intensity. My heart races as I look at him, his face inches from mine, his dark eyes searching mine.

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