Page 4 of The Lilac River (Silver Peaks #1)

Nash

M y day off was supposed to be peaceful. Instead, I’d spent it tangled in memories I didn’t ask for, thanks to Wilder’s bombshell that Lily Jones was back.

Ten years. Three thousand four hundred and forty-one days.

That’s how long it had been since I last held her. Since we’d laid side by side, talking all night about college and dreams, whispering promises we thought we’d never break, then made love until we drifted off to sleep wrapped in each other.

June fifth. Six-thirty in the morning. Three days after graduation. That was the moment everything shifted. That was when she kissed me goodbye to go and pack ready to visit her Grandma for a couple of days.

The night before we’d talked about me switching schools, leaving Alabama for Ohio to be closer to her.

I even told her I’d defer for a year if I had to.

I meant it. I was already a damn good quarterback, with analysts predicting I’d be drafted high.

I knew Ohio State would snap me up the second I spoke to their coach.

I hadn’t signed a National Letter of Intent with UA, and I was ready to move heaven and earth for her.

None of it mattered.

She left town hours later.

No explanation. No goodbye. Just… gone.

The first I knew was a frantic call from her mom later that morning.

For two months, I looked for her. Called every college I could. Drove to Ohio on a gut instinct, thinking maybe she’d gotten cold feet but still chased her dream school.

But there was nothing.

Just the echo of everything we’d said. Everything we’d meant. And everything I’d never stop carrying.

But she’d given up her place. Disappeared completely.

It broke something in me. The part of my heart she didn’t rip out, I poured into Bertie. The rest? A hollow husk that barely kept me standing.

I leaned back in the chair, boots hooked on the porch balustrade, gazing out over the land that raised me.

Silver Peaks gleamed in the distance; its namesake mountain peaks scarred with white snow lines.

This ranch had become my anchor; hard, honest work that grounded me.

Funny how I used to want out of this life.

Now I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

I used to think love was the thing that made a man. Now I knew it was duty.

Bertie’s laughter echoed through the late afternoon. She swung from the tire I’d hung just last year, hair flying, face pure sunshine. Wilder was in the distance, fixing a fence with Mack, their laughter low but familiar. A good moment. A peaceful one.

Until Gunner ruined it.

“That’s a meaningful look on your face, big brother.”

He swaggered around the corner, leather gloves tucked in his pocket, ball cap tipped back. Same crooked grin as always. “Looks like maybe you spent the whole of your day off thinking.”

“Nothing to think about.”

“Bullshit.”

I rolled my eyes. “Stop grinning at me. It’s annoying.”

He dropped into the rocker next to mine, Mom’s old chair, and copied my position, boots up. “So? Any deep revelations about Lily Jones?”

Her name hit like a punch. Always did.

I forced my expression flat. “Haven’t given her a second thought.”

“Wow. That lie came out so fast I almost believed it.”

Before I could answer, Wilder’s laugh rang out again. Gunner and I glanced toward the pasture where he and Mack were finishing up.

“Did you get all the branding done?” I asked.

“Yep. Frank and Jimmy moved fifty pairs up to high ground. We can do the rest tomorrow.”

I nodded absently, eyes drifting back to Bertie. She was climbing into the treehouse now, bare feet kicking with excitement. School couldn’t come fast enough. She was ready to go back.

“Talk to Dad today?” Gunner asked.

I frowned. “A lot of questions today. What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer right away. His jaw clenched. Shoulders tight. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“Gun?”

“Dad,” he finally muttered. “Went into town. Needed him to sign a check for the food bill.”

My hackles rose. Dad hadn’t worked the ranch in years yet still clung to every bit of control.

“This power trip of his needs to end.”

“This is more than that,” Gunner said, voice flat. “I overheard him on a call. He’s trying to sell the lavender farm.”

My heart stopped. I turned sharply, eyes locking on the lavender field.

Three acres of rolling purple. A sea of scent and memory. Lemon balm and lavender. Sunshine and sorrow.

We used to lie in that field. Lily and me. Back when life still felt infinite.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“That was Mom’s farm.”

“It’s not just land,” I said quietly. “It’s her. It’s us.” Me and Lily.

“And he’s selling it to some city idiot,” Gunner bit out. “You have to stop him.”

“Does he know you heard?”

“Yeah. Told me it’s none of my business. Said I have no power on this ranch.”

Typical.

“Bastard,” I muttered. “I’ll talk to Dougie. Maybe the lavender farm isn’t technically part of the ranch deed.”

Dougie, Harry Douglas, was the lawyer I’d hired when I took over day-to-day operations. My gut told me years ago that Dad wasn’t playing fair. So far, my gut had been right.

Gunner muttered something under his breath, kicking at the porch rail.

“Why’d he change the damn house too?” he said suddenly, looking up. “This porch roof’s got a leak. I’ll check it tomorrow.”

“Speak to Dad. He’s the one who blew a million bucks making this place look like a Yellowstone set.”

“It’s not home anymore,” he muttered. “You’re right, it’s a damn movie set.”

I looked around. He wasn’t wrong.

This porch used to smell like cedar and coffee. Now it smelled like varnish and money.

“So?” Gunner asked after a beat. “What do we do?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“You’d better. Mom planted the first lavender when she was nine. If that bastard sells it, she’ll roll in her grave.”

“I’ll call Dougie first thing.”

The lavender field stretched across the land like a memory I couldn’t quite reach. I could still see her there, Lily, laughing as the wind swept through her hair, bare feet trailing purple dust, arms flung wide like she belonged to the sky.

I closed my eyes.

I could still hear her voice there.

"Promise me something," she'd whispered once, her head in my lap, eyes full of stars. "Promise you won't forget this. Even when I'm far away."

I won't let you be far away, I’d said.

I’d been wrong.

In the distance, Bertie let out a joyous yell and sprinted toward us, arms wide, face lit up.

“Shit,” Gunner said with a laugh. “How the fuck did you make something that perfect?”

I smiled as she launched herself at me.

“No idea,” I said, wrapping her in a hug. “Just luck, I guess.”

And I’d need all the luck in the world if I was going to protect the lavender farm. And avoid Lily Alice Jones.

Because the truth was, I didn’t know which would break me faster.