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JULIET
The weekend passesin a delicious blur—and it’s not just the sex that’s blowing my mind.
It’s amazing being away from it all like this, just the two of us. It’s like we’re two young lovers, playing house—sleeping in, cooking meals together, going on long walks. We spend the nights in each other’s arms, and the days just lazily relaxing in the sun.
I wish we could stay forever. Away from the drama, and danger, back in the city.
“Found your happily-ever-after yet?”
I look up. Is Caleb reading my mind?
He nods to the book in my hand. “Isn’t it how they all turn out in the end?”
“Oh, right.” I realize he’s talking about the old dime-store paperback romance I found in the cabin. I smile. “I’m not at the end just yet.”
He grins, and goes back to work chopping wood, looking manly and powerful, as he drags logs about, the sweat glistening on his bare chest. And even though it’s been barely an hour since the last time he fucked me, I feel the twist of desire, low in my belly again.
I can’t ever get enough of this man.
I put the book aside. “I’m going to make a snack. Want one?”
He wipes the sweat from his forehead. “No, but I could use a beer.”
“Coming right up!” I stop to give him a kiss. “Mmmm… Look at you, out of those designer suits. It looks good on you.”
He sets aside the axe and pulls me closer for a thrilling kiss.
“I’m going to get started on dinner,” I tell him. We’ve been eating in bed most nights, grabbing food out of deli containers, but I want tonight to be a proper meal. “See you inside.”
I head up into the house and start setting out food to prep. I find china plates and placemats, but I have to go searching for tableware to complete the spread. I remember seeing some boxes in one of the bedrooms, so I take a look.
When I open the first box, I find water glasses, and some candlesticks too.
Bingo.
I set them aside, but one of the glasses slips from my hands, shattering on the floor.
I curse, grabbing a blanket to sweep up the remains. But a shard of glass catches on the floorboard, and when I go to lift it out, the whole board lifts out of place.
Weird.
I pause, catching sight of something in the dusty chasm. I peer closer, and find a stack of old letters, tied together with a frayed ribbon. They’re crumbling and aged, and who knows how long they’ve been hidden down there.
I look at the one on top. It’s addressed to Annette Sterling.
Annette Sterling.
Caleb’s mother?
I reel back, almost cutting myself on the glass. Quickly, I sweep it up and dispose of the pieces—then return to the bedroom and that stack of letters.
I shouldn’t read them.
They’re private, I know. None of my business. And they were buried here, under the floor, that means someone wanted to keep them hidden.
It means they were something worth hiding.
Curiosity fights with caution in my brain as I weigh the choice.
