Page 103 of Broken on the Mountain
In the center of the flood, his hand finds my waist. Mine settles on his shoulder and I feel my heart sink lower in my chest.
We move in perfect synchronization because we've both been trained for this since childhood. Cotillion classes and debutante balls, then a thousand society functions where dancing is just another performance.
"You seem distracted tonight," Maxwell observes. "Are you okay?"
"Just tired. Long week at the hospital."
"Ah yes, your nursing." He says it the way someone might sayyour little hobby. "Mother mentioned you're quite dedicated."
"I enjoy helping people," I say.
"Of course." Maxwell pulls me slightly closer. "Though I imagine you'll step back from your career once we're married. Charity work is one thing, but a hospital environment can be so... draining. We don't want that when you'll have your hands full with our little ones."
Once we're married?! Little ones?!
WHAT THE FUCK?!
"Maxwell, I haven't—"
"I know, I know. I'm getting ahead of myself." His smile is indulgent. "But your mother and I have discussed it, and we both agree it's a sensible match. Our families have known each other for years. We have similar values, similar goals. We'd be quite compatible. Don't you think?"
Compatible.
Like a business merger. Like a strategic alliance. Like everything my parents ever wanted for me and nothing I want for myself.
The song ends but Maxwell keeps his hand on my waist. I can't remember if I answered his question or not, but I can feel my face burning hot.
"Piper? Are you sure you're okay?" He looks at me, brows creasing. "Shall we get some air maybe? The terrace has a lovely view of the city."
What he means is:Let's go somewhere private where I can kiss you and you'll feel obligated to reciprocate because that's what good girls do.
"Actually, I need to—"
"Piper, darling!"
Mom appears beside us with the precision of a heat-seeking missile, my well-dressed father trailing behind her like an expensive accessory.
"Maxwell, you look wonderful together." Mom's smile could cut diamonds. "Charles, doesn't our daughter look elegant?"
Father nods, his attention already drifting toward a cluster of businessmen by the bar. I haven't seen my dad in weeks,monthsmaybe, but he's not the slightest bit interested in me.
"We were just discussing the Napa trip," Maxwell offers, hand sliding lower on my back, resting it just above my ass.
One inch lower, Maxwell, and you'll discover exactly how much damage a hiking boot can do to your crown jewels.
"Oh, how lovely!" Mother clasps her hands like this is the best news she's heard all week. "You two will have such a wonderful time! Piper needs a proper vacation after all that... mountain nonsense."
Something inside me cracks.
Memories flood back—Chase standing in the airport, holding that ridiculous sign to welcome me back. I remember his hands, gentle over mine, teaching me to use a compass in Wildflower Meadow, explaining about true north. I recall the warmth of the fire he built, the way he wrapped me in blankets and shared the parts of his life that hurt, trusting me with his wounds the way I’d never trusted anyone with mine.
The crack widens.
Because the sharpest memory is Sunday morning at the airport. When he asked me to choose and I walked away because I was too afraid to choose myself.
"If you'll excuse me," I say quietly, squeezing my eyes to forget the hurt in Chase's. "I need some air."
I turn and walk toward the terrace doors, my boots solid beneath the silk, each step an act of rebellion no one can see.
