Page 47 of The Lilac River (Silver Peaks #1)

Reckoning – Whiskey Myers

Nash

Twelve Years Ago

T he sun was sinking behind the mountains, casting the lavender fields in a haze of gold and violet.

The colors stretched across the land like a painting, each stalk glowing in the low light, swaying gently in the warm Colorado breeze.

The scent of lavender thickened the air, heady and calming, but I was anything but calm.

My palms were sweaty, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest, and my mind a scrambled mess of everything I wanted to say and everything I was too terrified to.

I’d been working up the courage for weeks now.

Taking Lily home from school, finding excuses to sit next to her at lunch, inventing reasons to show up wherever she was.

Whether it was in the library, the bleachers, or by the vending machines.

And every time, I’d make her laugh until she clutched her sides and begged me to stop, and that laugh, it wrecked me.

Every single time. It made my stomach do that weird flip thing I didn’t know how to describe.

Like gravity didn’t apply when she was around.

It had been exactly forty-three days since Lily Jones walked into history class, slid into the seat next to mine, and tilted my entire world on its axis.

Forty-three days of watching the way her eyes lit up when she talked about books. Forty-three days of noticing the way her nose crinkled when she was concentrating. Forty-three days of wanting her and not knowing how to tell her.

“Look!” she said suddenly, pointing toward the horizon. Her voice was a soft breath of awe, like the moment had caught her off guard. “The sunset. That’s what they call the golden hour. And, you know if you listen carefully to the sun rising, you can hear the hiss when it hits the sky.”

I turned to look, but I wasn’t really looking at the sunset.

I was looking at her.

“Is that right?” I murmured.

We were sitting on the back of my truck, legs dangling over the edge, parked just at the edge of the lavender fields.

She’d mentioned wanting to see them, had said she’d never seen anything like it before.

Had never been on a ranch at all. I’d jumped at the chance to bring her here, to my favorite spot, this quiet little edge of the world that felt more like home than the house ever did since Mom died.

She swung her legs back and forth, her sneakers brushing against mine every so often.

She was wearing a pale yellow tank and a white skirt, soft and fluttery, that made her skin glow like honey.

Her hair tumbled around her shoulders in loose, sunlit waves, catching the last light of day.

She looked like something out of a movie, ethereal, unreal.

Too perfect to be sitting beside me on an old truck bed with dirt under my nails and sweat on my brow.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” she said quietly. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” I said, because apparently that was all I could remember how to say. Yeah.

Idiot.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned to look at me, her head tilted. “What are you staring at? Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” I managed, voice dry. “You’re just…” I paused, swallowing hard. “You’re so damn pretty.”

Her cheeks flushed a soft pink, and she ducked her head, but I caught the smile she was trying to hide behind her hair.

“Is that why you keep finding reasons to hang out with me?” she asked, her voice quiet but playful, teasing.

“Maybe,” I admitted, my chest tight. “Is that okay?”

She looked up at me through her lashes, all soft and open. “More than okay.”

My heart was pounding so hard I was sure she could hear it echoing between us.

The air around us thickened, charged like the sky before a summer storm.

Something electric passed between us, and I felt like one wrong move would send it all crashing down.

I shifted a little closer, moving slow, leaving enough space for her to pull away if she wanted.

She didn’t.

Instead, she leaned toward me. Just a little. Just enough.

“Can I—” I started, but the words got stuck in my throat.

“Yes,” she whispered.

I hesitated for just a heartbeat. I’d kissed a few girls before, mostly at parties, mostly after too much beer, but nothing had ever felt like this. This felt magnetic. It felt magical. It felt like the first page of something I wanted to read a thousand times. Important.

Carefully, I reached out and brushed my thumb across her cheek. Her skin was warm from the sun, impossibly soft. When I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers, something inside me clicked into place. Like I’d found something I didn’t even know I’d been missing.

Her lips were soft, tentative at first, like she was figuring it out along with me.

Then she pressed more firmly into it. Her hand slid up to rest against my chest, right over my heart, and I swear it was going to break through my ribs.

I slid my fingers into her hair, cradling the back of her head like she was fragile, too precious to be real.

When she sighed into my mouth, I almost lost it.

I pulled back just enough to look at her, to see if this was real. Her eyes fluttered open, blue as a mountain lake under the sun. She smiled, and something in me cracked wide open.

“Wow,” she breathed.

“Yeah,” I said, finally finding my voice. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first day I saw you.”

“Really?” She bit her bottom lip, and I nearly groaned at how cute she looked. Those soft pink lips and the way her teeth sank into them, like she didn’t even know the effect she had on me.

“God, yes,” I said honestly. “I’ve been driving my brothers crazy talking about you. My little brother, Wilder, is pretty sure you’re a fairy princess or something. He is only nine, though.”

She laughed then, bright and sweet and the sound wrapped around my chest like a string, tying me to her forever.

“Nash Miller,” she said, her fingers reaching up to trace my jaw. “I think you might be trouble.”

“The best kind,” I said, grinning. And I leaned in again.

This time, when our lips met, I didn’t hesitate. I kissed her like I’d been dreaming about for weeks. With everything I had, with everything I was.

And when she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me back just as fiercely, I knew it.

My life would never be the same again.

Lily

I’d never been kissed before.

Not really.

Tommy Bradshaw had tried back in seventh grade during a game of spin the bottle, but I’d turned my head at the last second and his lips had landed somewhere near my cheekbone. That didn’t count.

This? This was entirely different.

This was Nash Miller.

The boy every girl at Sundance County High noticed. The one with the easy swagger, the football jersey that clung to his broad shoulders, and a grin that looked like it came with a warning label. The one who could’ve had anyone, but for some reason... he’d chosen me.

When his lips touched mine, it felt like the world stilled. His kiss was soft but certain, and the warmth that bloomed in my chest spread all the way to my toes. His hand in my hair was gentle, reverent, like he couldn’t believe I was real.

And I couldn’t believe he was kissing me.

I’d imagined this moment more times than I could admit, always wondering what it might feel like.

The butterflies, the nerves, the rush. But nothing compared to the reality.

He tasted like peppermint gum and sun. And when he pulled me closer, when his chest pressed against mine, I felt like I could finally exhale.

He pulled back, just slightly, and I opened my eyes to find him already looking at me. The golden light kissed the edges of his face, lighting up his cheekbones, casting shadows under those dark, intense eyes. My breath caught.

“I’ve never been kissed like that before,” I whispered, still dazed.

His smile widened, a flicker of pride softening into something tender.

“Good,” he said. “I like being your first.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a thrill through me. Not the scary kind. The kind that made me feel wanted. Safe.

“You were worth waiting for,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

The way he looked at me then, like I’d handed him the moon and stars made my heart ache in the best way.

“Lily Jones,” he said, fingers brushing the curve of my jaw like a promise, “I think I’m falling for you.”

The honesty in his voice made my throat tighten. Boys like Nash didn’t fall for girls like me. Not the quiet girl with secrets she couldn’t even say out loud to herself. Not the new girl with a mess of a past and a mom who cried behind closed doors. But somehow, impossibly, he was.

“I think I’m already there,” I whispered.

And when he kissed me again, slower, deeper, with both hands cradling my face, I felt something inside me unfurl. Like a flower blooming in the late evening sun. Like I’d been holding my breath for months, and now... now I could finally breathe.

The lavender field danced around us, the scent weaving between our skin and the wind, and as the first stars blinked into the dusky sky, I made a silent wish.

That this moment, this boy, this kiss, this feeling would never end.

Because Nash Miller hadn’t just kissed me.

He’d stolen a piece of my heart.

And somehow, I knew I’d never want it back.