Page 45 of The Lilac River (Silver Peaks #1)

Evidence – Faith No More

Lily

M y nerves were shredded as I sat curled into the corner of the big squashy sofa in the kitchen, the soft throw blanket bunched in my lap and my eyes glued to the clock on my phone.

I kept checking the time even though I already knew how long it had been—almost two hours since Nash and Gunner left for the Mayor’s apartment.

I chewed the corner of my thumbnail, my teeth worrying at the already raw skin. I couldn’t stop thinking about what they were doing. What they might find. And worse, what would happen if they got caught before they finished.

The nausea roiling in my stomach hadn’t gone away all night. And then there was poor Wilder, stuck entertaining the Mayor over a drawn-out dinner, talking about politics like it wasn’t the most soul-crushing thing imaginable. I didn’t envy him.

I stood and paced once, twice, shaking my hands out like I could release some of the nerves vibrating under my skin.

Then finally the front door creaked open.

My heart kicked hard in my chest as footsteps echoed down the hall. For one awful moment, I expected someone else entirely. But then Wilder appeared in the kitchen doorway, his brow drawn tight, his coat half falling off one shoulder.

“Are they back?” he asked, crossing the kitchen in quick strides. He looked rattled in a way I hadn’t seen him before, less swagger, more anxious. “I messaged them to get out and called when I got to my truck, but they didn’t answer.”

I straightened, crossing my arms over my chest like I needed to physically hold myself together. “Do you think he found them?” My voice cracked.

Wilder let out a slow breath. “I don’t know. They read my message in time. I thought I’d pass them on the road home.” He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it even more than usual.

His worry mirrored my own. They were family, the kind that bled for each other, and it was written all over his face. That particular strain only came with love.

“They’ll be fine.” I tried to sound sure, but it came out more like a prayer. “Maybe they stopped somewhere on the way back.”

“What if he walked in on them?” Wilder’s voice dropped. “You know what he’s like, Lily. He’ll destroy anything that threatens him. Doesn’t matter if it’s his sons or not.”

“Wilder, don’t,” I said quickly, crossing to him and wrapping my arms around his solid frame. “They’ll be okay. And besides, what would he really do to his own kids?”

He didn’t say anything. Just flinched. The silence spoke volumes. He knew, like I did, that Michael Miller wasn’t governed by typical fatherly instincts.

We stood like that for a moment, a quiet pact of mutual fear binding us.

I finally pulled back, offered a smile I didn’t feel, and moved toward the coffee pot. I poured two mugs with shaking hands.

“Here. Have this.”

He took it but gave a wan smile. “I think we need something stronger. You want a brandy?”

“I’m good.” I needed to stay alert. I needed to believe they’d be walking through the door any second.

“Maybe I should wait too. We’ve got a poker game tonight, but…” He paused, lips twitching. “Might be hard to focus with this much adrenaline. I don’t need an alcohol buzz, too.”

“Where’s the game?” I asked, trying to distract both of us.

“Cody Hargreaves’ place. You remember him, right? His dad owns the liquor store.”

“Yeah, I remember. Gunner went to school with him, didn’t he?”

Wilder nodded, taking a sip of the coffee and grimacing. “Cody throws a couple games every year. Buy-in’s two hundred, winner takes all. He?—”

The door banged open.

“Fuck, you’re a dickhead.”

We both turned, and there they were, Nash and Gunner barreling through the door like they’d just walked off a battlefield. Nash was shoving Gunner’s shoulder, his jaw tight, while Gunner wore his usual crooked grin.

“You could have killed us,” Nash barked, exasperated.

“Where the hell have you been?” Wilder demanded, practically dropping his mug on the counter. “I messaged you an hour ago!”

“He,” Nash jabbed a finger at Gunner, “decided we should come back through the woods and across the old hayfield. Without lights.”

“Why?” Wilder blinked. “Why didn’t you have lights?”

“Because,” Nash said, turning his narrowed eyes on his brother, “he thinks we’re in a spy movie. Said we might be followed.”

“Dad is not part of the Secret Service,” Wilder deadpanned.

“I didn’t say he was. Just that he’s paranoid enough to be.”

But Nash’s expression shifted the second his gaze landed on me. All the sharpness softened. A slow, private smile curved his lips.

“You okay, Lila?”

The tight knot inside me finally loosened. Relief surged like a tide.

“I am now.”

Nash crossed the room in three long strides, scruffing Wilder’s hair as he passed. He pulled me into his arms, and I sank into him, surrounded by warmth and safety and the scent of soap, leather, and him.

“Did you find anything?” I asked, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t get caught.”

“Oh, we found plenty,” Gunner said, dragging out the word like a tease. He grabbed four beers from the fridge and handed them out.

“Let’s take a seat and I’ll tell you everything.”

Nash kissed my cheek before letting me go. “We can always do this tomorrow,” he told his brothers. “You’ve got that game.”

“Nope.” Gunner popped the cap on his beer. “Doesn’t start till ten-thirty. We’ve got time.”

“Okay then.” Nash gave a nod. “Let’s do this.”

He followed Gunner to the table, where several folders were already spread out, corners fraying, edges creased from frantic hands.

“Time to see exactly what the old man’s been hiding.”

The next few minutes passed in stunned silence.

Each of us picked through the evidence like archaeologists uncovering a long-lost ruin.

Nash held a document in a white-knuckled grip.

I stared at a remarkably clear, old photograph of my father in a prison yard.

Gunner stood behind his chair, hands linked behind his head, staring like he was seeing ghosts.

Wilder slumped forward with his forehead resting on the table.

All of it—receipts, letters, photos—proved what we’d long suspected. Michael Miller wasn’t just cruel. He was crooked, manipulative, and utterly without remorse.

“At least now we know who poisoned the creek,” Wilder said eventually, his voice dry as dust.

He gestured to a crumpled receipt for a pesticide barrel.

“He did that,” Nash said, voice low with disbelief. “He ruined his own land.”

“Not just his,” Gunner muttered. “He poisoned the neighbors too.”

Nash shoved the paper back into the pile, muttering something about how the man had no soul.

“And a mistress,” he added a moment later, quieter this time. “Twenty years. No wonder he was always going away on ranch business .”

My hand found his. I squeezed. The betrayal cut deeper when it touched the heart of what made them a family.

“I thought he was obsessed with Mom,” Gunner said, his voice breaking. “And he cheated on her. For the last four years of her life.”

He glanced toward a photo of Emily on the shelf.

“She damn well loved him.”

Wilder reached over and rubbed Gunner’s back. “He didn’t deserve her.”

In the chaos of papers was a rental agreement for an apartment in Fort Collins. Co-signed by Margot Williams. The lease was dated twenty years ago. But there was an updated agreement, too, just six months old.

“He doesn’t deserve Margot either,” Nash snapped, distaste clear as he flicked at an envelope of pictures. “Who the hell takes photos of someone during sex clearly without their knowledge?”

Gunner leaned back; jaw clenched. “Collateral. He keeps everything. Just in case.”

“He’s a monster,” Wilder said.

Nash added, “And a dumb one. Who the hell keeps receipts for illegal chemicals?”

“Because he thought no one would ever find them,” I said softly.

“And they wouldn’t have,” Nash replied, lips curling. “If he hadn’t left his little spy pen turned on.”

“James Bond, he is not,” I muttered.

Nash chuckled, then leaned in and brushed a kiss to the shell of my ear. “You’re right, Lila. Not very good at all.”

Gunner leaned in. “What else do we have? Aside from adultery, environmental crime, and blackmail?”

Nash sifted through the documents his brow furrowed. “Photos of Lily’s dad in prison. Bank statements for an offshore account, probably siphoned from the ranch funds.”

My stomach twisted as I spotted a thick manila envelope tucked in between the statements. I pointed.

“What’s that?”

Nash pulled it out, opened it and froze.

“What is it?” I asked.

He didn’t answer immediately.

“Mom’s will,” he said finally.

“A copy?” Wilder asked.

“No,” Nash whispered. “It’s… newer.”

The silence turned heavy.

“This one’s dated after the one that was read when she died.”

Gunner reached for it, but Nash pulled it back. “Just let me read it.”

We waited. Nobody breathed.

When he finally looked up, his voice cracked.

“She left us everything.”

Shock rippled across the table.

“And listen to this for a kicker.” Nash kept reading.

“To my cheating husband Michael Miller, if by unfortunate circumstances he is still my husband upon my death, I leave absolutely nothing at all. I demand that he vacate the ranch immediately following the reading of my last will and testament, if he hasn’t already dropped off this mortal coil himself.

” He picked the envelope back up and peered inside. “There’s something else in here.”

“What is it?” Wilder asked, stretching to look.

Nash’s low chuckle started from deep in his chest. “This is the best bit.” He looked up, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“They’re divorce papers. It’s dated around the time she changed the deeds for the farm.

I’d bet anything they are the other matter she was going to speak to Henry about.

She’s signed them ready to serve them on Dad.

” He passed them to Wilder’s outstretched hand.

I gasped. Gunner’s mouth dropped open.

Wilder blinked as he read, looking like he’d just been smacked.

Nash dropped the will onto the table and pushed a hand through his hair. “You know if they hadn’t caught the guy who drove into her, drunk behind the wheel, I’d have thought that?—”

“Fuck,” Wilder groaned. “How bad is it that we think he’s even capable?”

“Very,” Gunner agreed, taking the papers from his youngest brother.

“I’ll get drinks,” I murmured, squeezing his shoulder before heading to the fridge.

“Not beer, baby,” Nash said softly. “Something harder.”

Baby . It sent a warm ache through my chest.

“I’ll get it,” Wilder offered. “Lily doesn’t need to see the hideous globe thing. I just need some fresh air first.”

That made me laugh even through the shock. I’d seen the globe. My dress had landed on it, when Nash and I—well, you know.

Wilder passed me with a wink and a quick hug before stepping into the cool night.

Gunner’s voice broke the silence. “All this time he’s known. He ruled this place like a dictator when he had no right. When he didn’t even own a blade of grass.”

“And we let him,” Nash muttered. “Because we didn’t know.”

“But now we do.” Gunner blew out a breath. “Not to mention the comfort in discovering Mom was going to divorce him.”

I looked at Nash who was reading the will again. At the name Emily Miller. At the signature that changed everything.

“Should someone check on Wilder?” I asked.

“I’ll go, and get the drinks, too,” Gunner said. “Bourbon?”

“Don’t you have poker?” Nash asked.

“One drink,” Gunner replied. “Then we’re gone. Leave you two lovebirds alone.”

I blushed as he left, but Nash was already watching me.

“Christ, you’re cute,” he said softly. “But beautiful with it.”

His arm slipped around my waist, and I melted into him as he pulled me onto his lap.

“You know, despite everything… I feel good. Lighter. Like we’ve finally broken the chains.”

“You really think so?” I asked, brushing my fingers over his stubble.

“I do.” His voice was sure. “We’re free, Lila. We can finally move forward. Build something that’s ours.”

And I believed him.

Maybe for the first time, I let myself believe it.

The door opened again, and Wilder and Gunner stepped back inside.

“We’ve decided against bourbon, we need clear heads for poker, so,” Gunner pointed at us, “before this becomes some Nicholas Sparks scene, maybe we should talk about next steps?”

“Tomorrow,” Nash replied. “Tonight, go win some poker. I’m staying right here with my girl.”

“What if Dad notices the missing stuff?” Wilder asked.

“He won’t,” Nash answered assured. “We hide it. We act normal. No different than yesterday.”

“And if he figures it out?”

“We deal with it. But first, we get legal advice. And second, we show up at the next town meeting and watch it blow up in his face.”

The idea of confronting him in public made my stomach drop.

“What if he brings up my dad?” I whispered. “If it all comes out…”

Nash took my hands. “Lila. He can’t hurt you. Not anymore. Not your mom either.”

I nodded slowly. “Maybe I should talk to her.”

“Maybe she should do the story,” Wilder offered.

“Hey,” Nash cut in. “Not tonight.”

“Okay, okay,” Wilder said, throwing up his hands. “We’ll regroup tomorrow. Clear heads.”

“Good idea,” Gunner added. He nudged Wilder. “Let’s go play poker and leave Mom and Dad to play hide the?—"

“Do not finish that sentence and fuck off,” Nash snapped.

Laughing, the boys grabbed their coats and disappeared into the night.

The moment the door clicked shut, silence fell over the kitchen like a soft blanket.

And I turned my gaze on Nash, heart racing.

Because now? Now he was mine. And I was his. And for the first time in a decade, there was nothing standing in our way.