Page 17 of The Lilac River (Silver Peaks #1)

Hello - Adele

Nash

I ’d hoped beer and shit-talking with my brothers would be enough to distract me.

Not a chance.

As much as I listened, as much as I talked, my eyes kept wandering to the booth across the bar.

Lily sat there, wine glass in hand, head tilted back in laughter.

She looked so damn beautiful it hurt to breathe.

I’d be able to pick her out of a crowd by the way she braced her hand on her hip when she was starting to get riled. Some things about her hadn’t changed.

Her hair had been just past her shoulders when she left ten years ago.

Now it flowed almost to her waist, gleaming like ribbons of silk in the low lights of the bar.

I hadn’t noticed on Get To Know You Day because it was tied up, but tonight it was down, tumbling over her bare shoulders, loose and wild, just like the girl I used to love.

And damn me, but I still did.

It took everything I had not to storm across the room and bury my face in it, just to check if she still smelled like coconut shampoo and wildflowers.

The more beer I drank, the worse the ache got.

She and Cassidy, her new teacher friend, had downed two bottles of wine, laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world. Lily didn’t look one damn bit affected by me being there. Like she hadn’t shattered us. Like she hadn’t shattered me.

And that burned. God, it burned.

"You gotta remember," Gunner said, picking up on my silence, "for a few years there, Lily was the only female we had after Mom died. She was like a sister to us."

"Yeah," Wilder agreed, picking at the label on his beer. "Sisters don’t just up and leave without a word, though."

"She gave a reason," I muttered. My voice felt like gravel. "Didn’t wanna be tied down," I continued. "Thought we were too serious, too young. At least, that’s what she wrote in her note to her mom."

I took a long pull on my beer, daring a glance toward her. She was leaning into Cassidy, hand tucked under her chin, a lazy, brilliant smile curving her lips. Her gold bangles slid down her arm as she pushed a piece of hair behind her ear, just another tiny gesture that wrecked me.

She still glowed. And I still crumbled.

Her laugh carried across the bar, warm and rich and full of ease. That sound had been my sanctuary once. Now it sliced straight through me like a Colorado windstorm, cold, clean, and merciless.

I shoved my beer onto the table and pushed to my feet.

"Bathroom," I growled.

"You okay?" Wilder asked, brow creasing.

"Yeah," I lied. "Just need the bathroom."

Splashing cold water on my face, I braced my palms against the sink, staring down at the scratched porcelain.

"Get a fucking grip," I muttered at my reflection.

But it was no use. That woman could wind me tighter than barbed wire and one look at her was enough to cut me wide open.

I had two choices: keep drinking until I was numb...or get the hell out of this bar before I made a colossal mistake.

I pushed out of the bathroom, head down, determined to make it back to the table without glancing her way.

And walked straight into her.

"Shit, sorry," I barked, reaching to steady her.

Her hand went to my chest on instinct, her warm fingers branding me through the thin cotton of my shirt. The second she realized it was me, she stiffened, snatching her hand back like she'd touched fire.

Our eyes locked, and the air went heavy. When her gaze moved over my shoulder to the door, anger swelled.

"Hoping for someone to come save you?" I said bitterly, my voice rougher than I intended.

She took a slow breath, shoulders rising. "Like I’d need saving."

"So, you’re not following me?" I scoffed, trying to keep my heart from pounding out of my ribs.

"No! I need to pee, why else would I be back here?"

"Maybe you wanted to say sorry again."

Her chest rose and fell, breath shaky. "I don’t know what else you want me to say, Nash. Maybe I should have taken the time to leave a note or?—"

"You think so?" My voice cracked like a whip. The hurt hit fast and hard. "A note? You think a note would have been okay to end us?"

I couldn’t look at her without wanting to touch her. I couldn’t speak without the pain bubbling up and spilling over.

She folded her arms across her chest, jutting out a hip like she was steeling herself. It only made me angrier.

"You think maybe you should have talked to me?" I stabbed a thumb against my chest, breath hitching. "I deserved a conversation, Lila. At the very least."

She stepped away, looked up at the ceiling like it held answers. Then she stepped right back into my space.

"I know," she whispered. "And if I could go back and do things differently, I would. But I can’t, Nash. All I can do is say sorry and tell you that I left because?—"

"Yeah, I know," I snapped. "I read the note you left for your mom. You didn’t want to be tied down and thought we were too serious too young."

I swallowed the emotion threatening to choke me.

"You come back here and think sorry is enough. Well, it’s not. So why don’t you and your husband just fuck off back to wherever you came from."

The pain was too much. My only weapon was spite.

She blinked. Once. Twice. Then narrowed her eyes.

"He’s a school principal, if you must know."

"Wow. Didn’t you aim high. That how you got your job? Fuck the principal?"

She gasped like I’d slapped her. "You absolute bastard."

"Whatever. Just go home to him."

I moved to step around her, but she grabbed my arm. Her grip was strong, shaking.

"No. You don’t get to just say that and walk away."

"What, like you did?"

"I’ll keep repeating it, Nash. I’m sorry. I truly am. If I could go back, I’d do everything differently."

"Yeah. You said you’d leave a note. How kind of you."

Her head dropped back, frustrated. My eyes dropped to her throat, and I hated how my body reacted: hot, desperate, raw.

"Funny," I bit out. "All that about not wanting to be tied down. And then you did."

"It was years later," she said. Her voice cracked.

"Still seems like a betrayal, Lila."

She pointed at me, her finger inches from my chest. "You had a child not long after I left. You didn’t hang around."

"What did you want me to do? Mourn you for the rest of my life?

" I stepped closer, voice low. "And I’m not with Bertie’s mom.

Never was. But you—" My voice dropped. "You vowed to love another man till death do you part. But does he know you’re here with me?

Does he know I used to kiss that exact spot on your neck when you moaned my name in the dark? "

Her eyes flared.

"Was he who you left town for?"

"Now you’re being ridiculous. Did you hear me say it was years later? That was because I loved you. I would never do that to you."

That broke something in me.

I didn’t think. I didn’t breathe.

I just grabbed her, hauled her against me and crushed my mouth to hers.

And she kissed me back like her life depended on it.

Our tongues tangled, desperate, messy. Her hands fisted in my shirt, my fingers in her hair. She tasted like red wine and memory, like heartbreak and home.

"God," she moaned, when I pressed her back against the wall, our hips grinding.

When I cupped her breast, she arched into me, gasping.

And then I ruined it.

"Hubby not doing it for you, Lila?"

She froze. Pulled back. Ice in her eyes.

"You piece of shit," she whispered. "What do you think I am?" She shoved me away, furious and trembling. "I would never cheat on my husband."

I laughed bitterly. "Hate to break it to you, but you just did. And don’t pretend you don’t still feel it between us. Not the actions of a happily married, loyal wife.

She raised a hand to slap me. I caught her wrist.

"You are one hateful man."

"Maybe. But I can still get you off. Want me to make some Cliff Notes for the hubster?"

Her face twisted with disgust.

"There is no husband, asshole. I divorced him because he was a dick too. But maybe not quite as big a dick as you."

And with that, she shoved past me and disappeared into the bathroom.

The second she was gone the floor fell out from under me.

No husband.

She wasn’t married. She was free.

And I had just destroyed the one fragile thread still connecting us.

I stood there a long time, chest heaving, guilt scorching through me like fire. Then I turned and headed back to the bar, wearing the only thing I had left, anger.

And under that, heartbreak. Still.