Page 19 of The Lilac River (Silver Peaks #1)

Runaway – The Killers

Nash

" W hat the hell is going on over there?" I ground out, dropping my chair back onto all four legs with a thud loud enough to make Wilder raise an eyebrow.

Across the bar, Lily was laughing with Cassidy, pool cue in hand, her whole face lit up in a way I hadn’t seen in ten years.

It was that kind of laugh, the kind that curled into your ribs and made a home there.

She bent over the table, her hips swaying slightly as she lined up a shot, that damn bronze-colored shirt clinging to every line of her body.

Delaney leaned closer, too close, his hand hovering near hers like he had any goddamn right.

"I think Del is gonna give her a few pointers," Wilder smirked, his beer bottle pausing halfway to his mouth. There was amusement in his eyes, the kind that made me want to knock the grin right off his face.

Delaney didn’t need to give her any damn pointers. I’d shown her how to play pool in the basement of a house party we went to in high school. I’d shown her how to play pool and then made her come all over my hand in the family bathroom.

And if fucking Delaney shifted his hips just an inch closer, I was going to plant his ass straight through the wall.

"Relax," Wilder drawled. "It’s just a game of pool."

"She’s fine," Gunner added without looking up. "Del’s harmless."

"He’s a fucking Labrador with dimples," I muttered.

I didn’t relax. I couldn’t. My whole body was a live wire, electricity sparking under my skin from the moment she walked into the bar tonight. It wasn’t just Lily’s laugh or the sway of her hips. It was the fact that she was here, again, in this place where our ghosts still lingered.

The Downtown Bar & Grill hadn’t changed.

Same cracked leather booths. Same flickering neon signs.

Same scent of grease, beer, and whatever cheap cologne the college kids favored these days.

Hell, the scarred oak table in the corner, the one where we carved our initials the summer before senior year, was still there.

I saw her glance at it when she walked in. She hadn’t touched it. But she saw it.

Now she was over there, lighting up the damn room like she hadn’t taken everything from me. Laughing like she hadn’t shattered something sacred.

"Bro, you have to decide," Gunner said beside me, his voice quieter now, more careful, "either go over there and talk to her or let it go."

"Yeah," Wilder agreed, his tone more clipped. "Because the scary cowboy look is kind of putting off the ladies. Monique Porter has walked away twice."

"You loved her once," Gunner added, like I needed reminding. Like I didn’t feel the fracture in our family every time I looked at her. “Maybe you could be friends.”

I didn’t say a word. My jaw clenched so tight it ached. But the ache in my chest? That was worse. That was the kind that didn’t go away, no matter how many times I told myself I was over her.

Then, like fate had a personal grudge, Rita Mason stormed over.

Silver Peaks’ unofficial mayor, rumor queen, and the woman who once told the town my eighth grade pants were tight enough to “smuggle walnuts.” Small, wiry, and terrifying.

"Miller boys," she barked, hands on hips, the scent of peppermint gum wafting off her like a weapon.

"What can we do for you, Rita?" I asked, wary, keeping one eye on Lily.

"I need someone to fix my vacuum cleaner. It’s on the fritz."

She eyed us like we were lazy ranch hands, and she was holding the branding iron.

"We’re ranchers, Rita," Wilder said. "Not appliance repairmen."

"Shit," I muttered. Rookie mistake.

Rita’s eyes narrowed. "One of you will come by tomorrow. Preferably early. I’m not living with dusty floors."

She jabbed a finger at Wilder. "You. You look like you could use some penance."

Wilder groaned audibly, dragging a hand down his face. "Fine."

Satisfied, Rita spun toward me. "And Nash—grow a pair and make it right with that girl before your balls dry up like raisins."

Laughter exploded around us. Even the damn jukebox seemed to chuckle.

"Rita for President," Gunner wheezed.

"Fuck off," I grumbled, but I couldn’t help the ghost of a smile that tugged at my lips.

My gaze pulled back to Lily.

She was leaning into Delaney again, laughing at something he said. He reached for the chalk, brushing her hand.

"Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?" I snapped before I could stop myself.

"Pretty sure they broke up," Wilder said. "Del’s fair game."

"Not to her, he’s not."

My hand gripped the bottle so tight the label shredded.

Gunner gave me a long, assessing look. "You sure you’re over her?"

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because she sank the eight ball just then, and her laugh, the one that used to unravel me like thread, filled the bar.

And I knew.

I wasn’t over a damn thing.

I needed air. I needed to leave. Most of all, I needed to stop wanting the one woman who was no longer mine.