Page 6 of The Lilac River (Silver Peaks #1)

Black – Pearl Jam

Nash

L ily Alice Jones. The woman I had loved. The one I hated. The one who ruined me.

She was standing outside the grocery store like she’d never left. Like she hadn’t torn my life apart and scattered it to the wind. Like I hadn’t spent years trying to forget the sound of her laugh, the feel of her lips, the way her whole world lit up when she was happy.

I’d told myself I was over her. Told myself a hundred times.

But seeing her now?

It felt like ten years had been a single breath held underwater. And now someone had let me surface. My lungs seized. My chest ached with it.

Ten Years Ago

We lay tangled on the blanket behind the barn, fireflies blinking above us like fairy lights. The lavender fields hummed with the last of summer, the scent curling around us like something sacred.

Lily’s head rested on my chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles over my ribs. “You think Ohio will be this quiet?”

“Nope,” I said, my voice rumbling through her. “But it'll be ours.”

She smiled against my skin. “Promise me we’ll always have this.”

“We will,” I whispered, brushing her hair off her face. “We’ll get out of here, Lila. Away from him. From all of it. You and me.”

She leaned up on her elbow, eyes gleaming in the starlight. “And what happens if we can’t get out?”

“We run,” I said without hesitation. “I’ll pick you up in the middle of the night and we’ll just go.”

She kissed me then, slow and deep, like she believed me. Like nothing could ever pull us apart.

That was the last time I held her. The last time she told me she loved me.

The night before she vanished.

She looked the same. Golden hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders. That mouth, still the shape of temptation. Eyes like summer storms. Eyes that used to undo me.

“Heard you were back, Lily. I just hoped it wasn’t true.”

The words came out sharp. Too sharp. A lie wrapped in steel. I had hoped she was back. I just hadn’t hoped to see her.

Because seeing her? That cracked everything wide open.

Her lip trembled. Barely. But enough.

“It seems I’m all out of good luck,” I said again, the snarl rough in my throat.

She flinched. Good. Let her hurt like I hurt.

“N-Nash, it’s?—”

“Don’t say it’s good to see me.” My hands shoved deep into my pockets. Fists clenched, knuckles burning. My body thrummed with memory, with want, with anger . I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

“Can we at least be civil?” she asked, one arm wrapping around herself like she needed to stay in one piece.

“Don’t even think about saying it, Lily,” I growled. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m sorry, Nash.”

The words slipped out soft. Too soft. Too late.

My chest cracked open. “Sorry?”

“Yes.” Her voice barely carried. I stared at the soft place on her neck I used to kiss to make her laugh. To make her melt.

“Sorry,” I echoed, the word bitter. “Ten years, Lila. And that’s what you’ve got?”

She bit her lip, nervous. I hated that I noticed. Hated that I still wanted to kiss her.

I lifted my hand to cut her off, but froze as Sloane Evers, Editor of the town’s newspaper and biggest gossip, stepped up.

“Hello, Nash. Lily,” she said, eyes gleaming. Phone already in hand. “Now, isn’t this cozy. Got anything to tell me? A nice story about a second chance romance would be great for the paper and the website.”

“Sloane,” I warned, covering her screen. “This isn’t newsworthy. Just saying hello.”

Lily shuffled beside me.

“Just catching up then?” Sloane smirked. “Wanderlust all out of your system?” she asked Lily.

“Something like that,” Lily murmured. “I should—” she gestured at the store.

“No, no. You two go ahead.” Sloane smirked at me with an arched, perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Finish your…chat.” With a finger wave she walked away, heels snapping across the sidewalk like punctuation marks.

I turned back to Lily. “You don’t get to walk away that easily.”

She stopped. Head tipped to the sky. “I don’t know what else to say to you, Nash. I already said sorry. I don’t have more than that.”

There it was. No grand explanation. No truth. Just sorry.

And I should’ve let her walk away.

But my heart was still thundering like I was eighteen again, watching her in my hoodie, barefoot in the grass, smiling like I was her whole world.

“I’ve heard enough,” I muttered. I couldn’t tell her I hated her, not really. Because I didn’t.

I turned and walked. Didn’t look back. Even when I felt her hand graze my elbow.

I shook it off and kept going.

It wasn’t until I got to my truck that I realized I’d called her Lila.

The name only I used. When I’d loved her .

And I still did. In all the quiet corners of my life. In every silence that wasn’t filled with Bertie’s laughter.

When I got home, Gunner and Wilder were at the absurdly large dining table. Dad called it the Great Room. I called it overkill.

“What’s going on?” I snapped. “You’re supposed to be loading cattle.”

“Donny and the two new guys took care of it,” Gunner said. “We finished tagging.”

“And the creek? Feed stock?”

“I checked the creek, no contamination. Wilder did the feed inventory yesterday.”

Wilder leaned back. “You’d know if you looked at the system. We’re digital now, remember?”

He wasn’t wrong.

“No, I’m not that old,” I said. “But you could’ve mentioned it at dinner.”

Wilder chewed his cheek, clearly holding something in.

Gunner cut in. “Did you talk to Dougie?”

“Yeah, he’s digging. Why?”

“Sit down,” Gunner said.

I dropped into the head chair, bracing.

“A realtor came by,” Gunner said. “Some slick guy from Denver.”

“He said Dad set it up,” Wilder added. “But that’s not all.”

Gunner continued, “I saw him outside. Taking pictures of the house.”

I stiffened. “No way. This is our home.”

“Legally, it’s Dad’s,” Wilder muttered.

“Then I’ll buy it from him.”

“With what?” Gunner snapped. “We don’t have millions, Nash.”

“I’ll find a way.”

“What about a mortgage?” Wilder asked.

“I’ll check the accounts,” I said.

“I’ll do it,” Wilder offered. “I understand the software.”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

He leaned back in his chair. “We should sell the furniture too. Someone will pay stupid money for this stuff.”

“And the couch,” Gunner chimed in. “It’s butt fuck ugly and uncomfortable as hell.”

“Yes. Sell it all,” I agreed. “Every overpriced piece.”

We sat in silence until Gunner asked, “Your trip to town didn’t go well?”

I stared at the table. “What makes you say that?”

“You didn’t bring back bread. Or Bertie’s cereal. And you slammed the front door.”

I groaned.

“I saw Lily,” I muttered. “And Sloane Evers. But Lily… she said sorry. Just… sorry.”

“And how did she look?” Gunner asked.

I blinked. “What?”

“Still hot?”

“Are you serious?”

“Curvier? Prettier?” Wilder asked.

My fingers curled into my palms as I stared at my youngest brother, my jaw ticking.

Gunner grinned. “I knew it. Wilder owes me ten bucks.”

“You bet on her?”

“Only ten bucks!” Wild protested.

“Don’t disrespect her like that,” I growled.

Gunner gave a mock salute. “So she apologized. She still looks amazing. And you’re wrecked. Sounds like unresolved feelings to me.”

“Shut up,” I said. “Don’t mention her name again.” I stood. “I’m picking up Bertie. Steaks are in the fridge. Handle the potatoes.”

As I walked out, Gunner chuckled.

And I nearly walked back in to punch him.