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The roads are trashed, but they’re not as bad as I had feared. From Look-Out Point, Miguel and I can see almost all the way down the mountain, and there are spots where there’s been some rockslides, and there are several fallen pine trees, but it won’t take more than a day to get them cleared up.
Miguel also points out that there are tracks from the four-wheelers, which means someone will probably be up there to offer rides back down. It’s only fair. Zara was meant to be in town already, and I’m sure Phoenix wants to get some space from being trapped in his lodge room.
It’ll be a good few days before most of the employees come back and a good week before we can take guests again, but it’s fine. I can get work done, and Eden can… go back to her life, I guess.
I swallow thickly, then click my tongue and lead the way back onto the trail. Miguel follows at a more sedate pace, but he catches up to me by the time the lodge comes into view. He pulls up next to me as we slow our mounts, and he tips his hat up.
“I’ll get these two settled,” he says. “They all need a good brushing.”
All the horses are covered in flecks of mud from their morning run. I give Clover a few pats on her neck, then hand the reins over to Miguel before I turn and make my way to the back. There’s a block on the door there where I can kick the mud off my boots, and I come to a stop when I see René leaning against the wall with a cigarette in his mouth.
I usually give him shit about being a French stereotype—even though he’s Canadian—but I don’t have the heart that morning. The way he’s looking at me is a mixture of pity and understanding, and I don’t know if I can get through another damn conversation about Eden.
It’s my own fault for being so obvious with her. The storm must have knocked loose any of the sense I got left after my injury because I shouldn’t have been so damn brazen.
“She’s in the lounge,” he says to me, his voice muffled from the way he’s biting the butt of the smoke.
I want to tell him that I don’t care—that I’m too busy, that it doesn’t matter—but I can’t bring myself to lie. I just nod and finish kicking the mud off my boots so I don’t have to listen to him whining all day about the mess I tracked in.
With the power back on, the kitchen’s cooler again now that the AC is pumping, but it’s oddly quiet since we’re down to the skeleton staff. It’ll be a while before we get any of the line cooks back up here, but I know that’s for the best.
Like me, René tends to work best alone when we’re in crisis mode. He just has the luxury of not being alone when all’s said and done.
I try not to think about the way that makes my chest ache as I stare between the side door, which will lead to a back hall, letting me escape unseen, or the swinging service doors, which will lead me to the lounge. It’s almost hilarious that for a moment, I thought there was a choice.
I stop by the massive silver juice dispenser, and I throw one of the plastic cups under the spout. It takes a second to get going, but eventually, it kicks on with a small groan, and I fill my cup with a mix of grapefruit and cranberry.
It’s tart enough to make me cringe—just the way I like it. I let myself indulge only for a moment because it only takes that long to realize that whatever courage I’m waiting on, it’s not coming.
I gotta face this all weak in the knees and desperate to ask her to stay.
Holding the cup tight enough that the sides start to cave in, I elbow the doors open and step through. The dining room smells like pancakes and coffee, and it takes me a second to see Eden at the far table right up against the tall window. It’s the best view of the house, made better by the way the morning sun lights up her dark hair like a halo.
She has her back to me, so I have no idea if she heard me come in or not, but I still take a moment to just watch her. She’s so small, but her presence is so huge it fills the room, and I honestly can’t believe that I’m falling so hard, so fast.
Past Maddox would be whooping my ass into next week for getting all sentimental and romantic over a weekend hookup, but even he wouldn’t be able to deny the way she makes us feel—like our heart is finally beating again.
I swallow down another mouthful of juice before I walk over, and I notice the second she becomes aware of me. She doesn’t look over her shoulder, but her back goes a little tense, and her fork stills in the air with a bit of pancake speared at the end.
Part of me thinks I should just go and leave her to whatever scraps of dignity we both have left, but my feet march my ass right over to that table, and I’m reaching for a chair before she even looks at me.
“This is my favorite table in the house,” I say.
She swallows thickly, then looks over, and I can see dark circles under her eyes. She’s not all dolled up like she was when she first arrived, but she’s gorgeous both ways—so much it takes my breath away. She sets her fork down, then lays both hands in her lap, and I hate seeing her so unsure.
“You were gone when I got up.”
My gut twists. I wasn’t openly acknowledging what a dick move that was, but I still knew it. “Yeah.”
“You took all your stuff. You took Nudge,” she goes on. Her voice isn’t meek by any means, but it’s not strong either. I hurt her.
Fuck.
“Had to get her back home, and I needed a shower and—”
“No note,” she goes on like I’m not even speaking. “And you didn’t come back.”
