Page 118 of Beneath the Mountain Sky

I couldn’t bring myself to attempt it on my own when Willow was gone.

It never would’ve been right, never could have lived up to what they made because it was them doing it. I always thought the old belief that something tastes better when it’s made with love was foolish, until I tried the Wilson’s version at the diner.

While delicious…it was lacking something.

Something I couldn’t put my finger on.

It lacked this.

It wasn’t from home.

And the cabin finally feels like one again.

My mouth waters as I pad barefoot with a towel wrapped around my waist toward the smell and the gentle humming floating through the air.

Willow stands at the small kitchen counter, swaying her hips from side to side, my headphones in her ears, clearly enjoying whatever she’s listening to. I lean against the giant log support beam at the entrance to the room and watch her.

The smile tilting the corner of her lips.

How freely she moves to the music, unreserved by the cloud that has hung over her since her return.

For this moment—and maybe only this single one—she’s completely happy.

I’d like to believe that I had something to do with that. That finally clearing the air and coming together emotionally and physically somehow lifted some of the weight that was crushing her.

But I know it’s merely a fleeting blink of time.

As soon as she closes her eyes tonight, she’ll be haunted by the visions of things that could be nightmares or horrific memories.

Willow won’t ever truly get better, and I won’t really get her back fully, until we find answers for her. Yet, this moment gives me hope.

Hope for the future I thought I’d lost.

I push off the beam and sidle up behind her, sliding my arms around her waist.

She yelps slightly and turns toward me in my hold, pulling the earbuds out and setting them onto the counter. “Christ, you scared the crap out of me.”

My heart stops, my mood immediately shifting at the thought that I might have done something that could have put her back in that dark place instead of the bright one she was just in, but the smile pulling at her lips assures me she’s okay.

“I’m sorry”—I squeeze her gently—“but I couldn’t resist with you swaying your ass like that and looking so fucking beautiful.”

Her breath catches. “How long were you watching me?”

I don’t bother fighting a grin. “Long enough.” My growing cock presses against her. “It smells amazing in here.”

Her cheeks pinken with the most adorable blush. “I thought maybe you might want your mom’s cornbread, baked beans, and ham for dinner.”

My eyes burn, but I refuse to let the tears fall, even though they’re happy ones. I don’t want anything to threaten the light, happy mood we’ve managed to find in all this turmoil.

“You were right.” I bend down and brush my lips over her forehead, then work my way across her cheek to bury my face against her neck. “But after seeing you dancing like that in here, I’m hungry for something else.”

“Oh.”

Willow curls her hands onto my chest, nails biting into the inked skin in a very deliberate way.

She understands me perfectly, feels the tension in my body, the way my hard cock strains under the towel barely confining it.

I slide my hands down and easily lift her to the edge of the counter, pushing various cans and other ingredients out of the way.