Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
DALTON
N ormally, on a beautiful fall day like this, when the leaves are just starting to change and the cool breeze washes over me, being able to ride Apollo would wipe away worries.
Anything bothering me would disappear the harder I pushed him.
The faster we run, the further I would move from any problems.
But not today.
I’m riding toward the very thing that has caused the tension. Searching for an explanation when what I might find could make things worse.
This isn’t a joyride to take in the pristine wilderness and allow Apollo to unleash his restlessness and power.
I’m out here because somebody violated the mountain in a way that could threaten my life—and those of the only people I care about.
Being in these woods means I’m not there with her , with them , and leaving Camille and Davey with Pops this morning took every ounce of strength I had.
I can’t even count the number of times I looked back at them on the cabin porch before I led Apollo into the trees toward the lake to try to track the men who were here yesterday. Or the number of times I’ve considered turning around and going back, regardless of whether I’ve completed the task I’ve set out to accomplish.
Deep down, I know Pops will protect them.
That everything will be fine while I’m gone, but leaving was made a thousand times harder because of the looks Camille gave me all morning before we left her place to come here.
Watching me out of the corner of her eye.
Staring when I was talking with Davey and she thought I wouldn’t notice.
Chewing on her bottom lip as she moved around the kitchen, making breakfast like she’s still unsure about what happened last night and considering what it means.
I can’t say I blame her.
Not really.
I could never regret it.
Not in a million years.
Not in this fucking lifetime or any other that might come.
But she has every reason to—first and foremost because she still loves Dave with all her heart and probably always will.
Every word of what I said to her last night was true, though.
I could never be jealous of him. Being with Dave is part of what made Camille into the woman I’ve fallen in love with. His love for her helped make her strong and resilient and all the things I find so fascinating about her. And he’s Davey’s and that little girl’s father. He’s the reason they’re all here. The reason I might have a chance for something I never imagined could ever be possible.
If there were a way, I would thank him for this tremendous gift and beg him to find me worthy of it.
Things may feel very uncertain right now—both when it comes to the mountain and what’s happening between Camille and me—but just like with the pain that’s become my old friend, it’s temporary.
My feelings for her aren’t.
If she still needs time, I’m not going anywhere.
I’ll be right here when she’s ready for what I can give her. I just wish I didn’t have to ride off so early this morning when talking to her about it might have helped ease some of her insecurities and worries.
She’ll be there when you get home.
That’s the only thing that keeps pushing me forward through the thick forest to the lake.
Seeing its smooth, glassy surface, undisturbed and completely peaceful the way God intended it, all I want is to turn around and head back to her.
So I can assure her it will all be okay.
So I can hold her in my arms again.
So I can wipe away that uncertainty furrowing her brow.
So I can tell Camille that she and Davey and her unborn daughter are safe with me and always will be—no matter what happens between us.
But I can’t make that promise until I do what I came here to accomplish.
I push Apollo into a gallop and let him race along the shore until he reaches the spot Pop said he saw the two men—on the far western side of the glacial lake near where two large boulders jut out into the water from the natural beach entrance.
What the hell were they doing here?
If they were taking water samples or doing a survey of the clearing the lake sits in, then my first inclination to believe it was that asshole lawyer and his “interested party” is probably true.
There wouldn’t be any other reason to be messing around up here and to run. They were either looking to make plans for the land that doesn’t belong to them or for a way to force us to sell.
Either possibility makes me twist the reins hard enough for the leather to bite into my palms.
I welcome the pain, though.
It reminds me of my purpose and to move quickly to get back to the woman who can erase it.
What should be throbbing through my back after almost collapsing yesterday barely registers anymore. All because of Camille’s touch and what she has done for my body and my soul. Offering me the kind of acceptance and affection I never thought I’d find from another person.
“Whoa, boy.”
I slow Apollo and finally pull him to a stop, then slide off and make my way down the pebbled beach, letting him graze in the long grass in the clearing that won’t be accessible in only a few short weeks once the snow comes.
The entire ride here, I imagined finding some glaring evidence of the intrusion. But there isn’t any sign of anyone having been here. Only the pristine shoreline and crystal-clear water. The birds flying overhead in the breeze. The smell of the fire from the cabin drifting in the same wind.
Nothing out of place.
Not even a single footprint or track in the mud at the edge of the bank.
Dammit.
I scan the trees in the direction Pop said they fled, but instead of climbing back onto Apollo, I grab his reins and lead him that way, surveying for any signs of human activity or anything they might’ve dropped.
Even the smallest clue or tiniest confirmation could give us some ammunition against whoever might be coming after us.
Though Pops still insists he has this “under control,” that doesn’t dissuade me from feeling like we need the biggest arsenal possible if they do come—physically or otherwise.
I reach the tree line where the trunks are packed so densely that there’s no way Apollo will be able to get through. “Wait here, buddy.” He whinnies his annoyance, and I rub his neck as I tie him to one of the branches so he doesn’t wander off too far. “I’ll be back.”
The quicker I make my sweep, the quicker I can get back to the cabin.
I have no intention of lingering any longer than necessary to ensure the men are long gone and gather whatever I can that might identify who was involved.
The woods thicken even more as I head down the most obvious route. Though there isn’t a true trail, only places where there’s enough room between the towering trunks for people to slip between, broken twigs lead the way.
Proving the old man right.
They definitely came this way.
But where the hell did they go?
We’re so far up the mountain that they couldn’t have come all the way on foot.
It takes hours to reach James Creek in a truck—or car, if you dare attempt that gravel and incline in one—from our place, double that by horse, which they couldn’t have led through this part of the forest, anyway.
Which means they had to have another mode of transportation.
I push my way through the trees, stepping over fallen logs, broken branches that they hastily snapped on their way out, and pick my way down the slope, away from the lake and both our and Camille’s property.
Another hour passes of following their obvious route before the trees start to thin, and I reach the small clearing that always has the most magnificent wildflowers every spring and summer.
It was one of Mom’s favorite places.
Somewhere she would come with her mother before she passed and left Mom alone with Pops, who never had time to trek down here with her, too busy running everything else to actually enjoy the mountain he owns.
Memories of running through the field with her, bright buds in hand to bring back to Pops and Dad, flow through my head, simultaneously making my heart warm and my eyes burn.
I only have to take a few steps into the familiar open space to know how the two men got up here—deep tire marks mar the otherwise pristine clearing, moving from one side across it and toward the end that would be closest to the road coming up the mountain.
The fuckers came up on ATVs, then they hiked up to the lake and back.
Which means I’m likely not going to find anything useful, nothing that could help tell us who they are or why they were here. Certainly not a way to track them beyond here.
Once they hit the road, they no doubt loaded up into a trailer and used a big truck to disappear themselves and their equipment out of the area quickly.
Motherfuckers.
Not only have they invaded our land, but they’ve shaken Camille’s sense of safety when she’s already faced enough for ten lifetimes.
That nightmare that hit her last night wasn’t random.
She had it because of what happened at the lake.
I dismissed the contents of it easily last night—both because I didn’t believe it was actually possible anyone could have hurt Dave and because if I even remotely entertained it was possible, it would’ve sent Camille into a further downward spiral.
But now, standing here, it seems a lot less crazy of a proposition.
They could have gotten to her property the same way they made it to the lake, all without anyone ever knowing if they were careful about where they left the ATVs to ensure no one heard the engines.
Is it really possible?
Even if they did an autopsy, the type of blunt force trauma inflicted by someone else using a weapon could easily be mistaken for a horse kick…and that’s assuming they even bothered with the examination when everyone assumed the most obvious cause of his death.
A shiver rolls through me that has nothing to do with the chilly breeze lifting the branches and rustling the leaves all around me.
Something flutters in my peripheral vision—a flash of white that definitely isn’t natural up here. At least, not until the snow starts.
Squatting, I snag the tiny piece of paper before it gets carried away with another gust. I narrow my gaze, trying to read the letters on the scrap that appears to have been torn off of a larger document.
The familiar handwriting taunts me.
Rage floods my veins as I shove to my feet and stomp back through the woods, likely scaring off any and all wildlife by not bothering to try to hide my presence like I normally would.
I can’t.
Not when I have the proof in my fucking hand that I was right to be so worried. Not when I’m starting to believe that maybe Camille’s nightmare wasn’t just that.
Maybe she did see something else that day, someone else, or maybe it is just her subconscious.
The mere possibility that it could be the former is enough to make me rush faster than I should through the dense underbrush.
By the time I make it back to the property, after pushing Apollo as fast and as hard as I dared in the open areas that allowed for it, I’m vibrating with pure wrath.
My entire body feels like a rattlesnake, coiled and ready to strike.
I unsaddle Apollo and get him back into his stall with a treat, then stalk up to the house, pound up the steps and across the porch, and yank open the door.
Pops jumps slightly where he sits in the chair just inside, and his gaze locks on me. “Did you find something?”
I give him a sharp nod and step forward, slipping the piece of paper into his hand as I kick the door shut behind me with a boom that reverberates through the cabin.
He glances down at it, lifting his glasses to his forehead and pulling the paper closer. His eyes widen. “Shit.”
Camille steps out of the kitchen with a flour-splattered apron around her, her hair twisted up in a messy bun, several strands falling across her cheeks. The amber undertones glint in the light as she steps forward.
God, she’s beautiful.
My throat dries just looking at her, but it can’t quell the fury roaring through me right now.
Nor my fear for her.
For what this potentially means for all of us.
Her brow furrows as she takes in my agitated state, and she glances behind her, then disappears into the kitchen. She reappears a second later, sans apron, brushing her hands on her leggings and leaving little streaks of white across them as she makes her way over to us. “What is it? Did you find something?”
Pops and I exchange a look.
She presses her lips together and steps forward, hissing under her breath to keep Davey, who must be in the kitchen, from hearing her. “Do not keep things from me.”
“I’m not.” I run a hand through my too-long hair. “It’s just—”
Pops holds it out for her to examine, and I know the second she understands what it means because her eyes widen and her back stiffens.
Camille hands it back to Pops and glances over at me, a thousand questions swimming in her blue eyes.
“You and I need to talk.”
She nods, appearing just as shaken as I was when I found it.
I reach out and take her hand, tugging her toward the door.
This is not a conversation I’m going to have anywhere Davey might be in earshot.
* * *
CAMILLE
Dalton leads me away from the cabin with a firm grip on my hand and sure strides that carry the same tension his rigid body does.
Everything about the man screams, “leave me alone,” yet he pulls me with him, seemingly intent on getting me somewhere private. And quickly.
The afternoon sun hangs low on the horizon, a chilly breeze wrapping around us as we cross the yard in front of the house and cut toward the outbuildings.
“Where are we going?”
He squeezes my fingers with his and slows his steps so I’m not struggling to keep up with his pace, considering I mostly waddle these days. “The barn.”
I can understand why he might not want to have certain conversations in the cabin with Davey sure to be all over him the moment he realized he had returned, but the way he vibrates with anger makes me wonder if there’s more than just the piece of paper.
Something he didn’t even tell Pops.
Did he find something else?
Something he left out here somewhere that he wants to show me but keep concealed from his grandfather?
There’s a second option.
Dalton could want to talk about something completely separate from what that tiny slip of paper could mean.
He may want to delve into what happened last night.
And that’s a topic I’m not completely sure I’m ready to leap into yet.
He keeps walking, tugging on my hand gently to follow, and leads me into the now-familiar barn. Past the animal stalls, allowing me to run my free hand over Apollo’s snout briefly. All the way to the tack room at the back where they store various tools and the infamous fishing rods whose use led to the unsettling discovery of strangers on the mountain in the first place.
It’s an odd place to want to talk, but Dalton urges me in with a gentle hand on my lower back, letting his touch linger for a few extra moments, the heat of his palm seeping through my Henley and warming me from the chill the short walk brought on.
Once we’re inside, he nudges the door closed and immediately starts to pace the small space.
He rubs at the back of his neck, craning his head from side to side as he burns a path on the already-worn floorboards with the incessant back and forth.
Each time he passes me, I hold my breath, waiting for him to say something. Anticipating an explanation for why he needed me to come out here with him instead of talking with Pops privately in his office once we got Davey sufficiently distracted by something.
Unless this isn’t about the paper at all.
Maybe it’s about us.
But he doesn’t say anything.
He just lets the tension build with each pass. His heavy boots thump on the wood in a steady tempo that starts to drive me mad. The longer it goes on, the antsier I become, unable to stand still myself, shifting on my feet both because of the nervous energy he’s putting off and the discomfort I’m feeling this late in my pregnancy.
After what feels like an eternity but is likely only a handful of minutes, I finally can’t take it anymore. “Does that slip of paper mean what I think it does?”
It would certainly explain why he’s so worked up, why it appears like he’s about ready to either implode or explode.
In all these months we’ve spent at least a portion of almost every day together, I’ve never seen him like this.
So agitated.
So off balance.
So close to losing control.
He’s always so calm, facing each problem logically until he finds the most reasonable solution and implements it effectively. It’s how he has managed to make so much progress at my place while splitting his time.
But this isn’t the same man who left the cabin this morning, not the one who held me all night and well beyond when he should have risen from bed this morning.
And his distress is starting to make what I thought was a normal amount of worry on my part about the discovery on the paper seem woefully inadequate.
Dalton rubs at his temple, and I lean back against the old wooden table that runs along one wall, resting my right hand on my belly, where the baby seems intent on moving around and making her presence known during what appears to be a conversation that’s going to be very intense.
He pauses mid-step, glancing down at my palm pressed over her tiny foot. “Are you okay?”
I nod and smile, trying to encourage him to relax by faking that I am. “She’s just kicking.”
His lips twitch slightly, but instead of reaching out to feel it himself like I had hoped, he resumes pacing, alternatively digging his fingers into the base of his skull and forehead like he’s trying to work through and process something he can’t quite wrap his head around.
“Will you please tell me what’s going on?” I release an exasperated sigh. “I mean, I think I understand, but—”
He pauses his movement. “You do understand.”
That handwriting was so distinct.
So recognizable.
He knows even I would be able to place it right away.
“Okay, but is it possible it was left up there at some other time?”
Dalton shakes his head, lacing his hands at the back of his neck. “I don’t think so. There wouldn’t be any reason for him to have been down there. It’s just an empty clearing. And a tiny piece of paper like that wouldn’t have stayed right there for long.”
He knows this mountain better than anyone except Pops. So, if he says there isn’t any other reason for that particular slip of paper to have ended up in the clearing except for if it was brought by the two men who were at the lake, then I believe him.
“Shit, no wonder you’re so rattled.”
“Shouldn’t I be?” He releases his grip on his neck and lets his arms fall to his sides. “You know what this means. You’re not safe here. You and Davey need to go.”
My back stiffens, and his plea from only yesterday— God, was it really only twenty-four hours ago that I sat next to that tub?— rushes back so clearly it’s as if he just said it. That insistence that I never consider leaving the mountain. If this is what he’s been contemplating, it would explain the nervous energy. “Go where?”
He stops pacing and approaches me, stopping close enough that I can see the tension in his jaw, his muscles twitching under his T-shirt. “Somewhere safe until all this blows over, until I can get it resolved, until I can bring you and Davey back here, where you’re supposed to be.”
Where we’re supposed to be…
Such a simple statement that is anything but.
“Where’s that?”
Last night was incredible—in spite of all the reasons it shouldn’t have been—and when I woke this morning, it finally felt like things were settling. There was this sense of belonging, stronger than I’ve experienced since Dave died.
But we never got a chance to discuss what any of it meant or where my children and I belong in all this.
Dalton reaches out and slides his hands along my waist, pressing against me right over where my little girl was just kicking. “Wherever I am.”
My heart skips a beat, and I draw in a long, slow breath. The finality and surety with which he made that statement isn’t the kind you hear the day after you sleep with someone for the first time. “You know, you kind of went from one to one hundred pretty quickly.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Does that scare you?”
I open my mouth to answer “yes,” because anyone would be overwhelmed and terrified by a man saying something like that so damn fast.
But the word won’t come out.
Because it isn’t true.
We may have only met a handful of months ago, but it feels like I’ve known Dalton and Pops my entire life. Like they’ve always been a part of my every day. All the things we do together—working, eating, playing, laughing—are just so natural.
It feels like a family.
I shake my head. “No.”
He grins, some of the tension melting away from his handsome face. “Does it scare you that it doesn’t scare you?”
A little laugh slips out from my lips, and I nod. “Yes. Is it that obvious?”
Here I thought I did a pretty damn good job of keeping my reaction contained.
He brushes a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “It is to me because I watch you all the time. The way you move. The way you handle Davey and Pops. All the little expressions you make when you’re concentrating on something or upset…or angry. I have your beautiful face memorized—the thousands of looks you give me. I can read them all.”
His confidence permeates his grin, and seeing the playfulness return when only moments ago he was so agitated makes me relax against the table.
I rest my hands on his chest, fingering one of the buttons as I hold his evergreen gaze. “And what am I saying now?”
A smirk pulls at his lips. “That you want me to kiss you.”
Damn.
He is smug.
But he’s also right.
“You can read me well.”
Because I do want him to.
All day, my body has thrummed with the memory of the way he touched me last night, the way he held me, how perfectly we fit together and how goddamn incredible it was to be loved by him that way.
It shouldn’t have been that easy, shouldn’t have been that good, considering the emotional toll it had on me.
But he ensured it would be.
He took care of me just like he promised, and now, it’s my turn to take care of him when he’s the one rattled.
I slide my hand to the back of his neck and tangle my fingers in the thick hair there, drawing him closer to me until my lips can brush over his. “I’m sorry if I’ve been giving you mixed signals. This is just a lot. You’re a lot.”
He kisses the corner of my mouth, then across my cheek all the way to my ear. “I am, and I’m sorry if I’ve done anything to make you feel like I’m pushing you into something you’re not ready for.”
My hand tightens in his shirt, the other tugging the sandy-blond silky strands in it until he returns his gaze to mine. “No.” I shake my head. “I mean, there are definitely parts of me that aren’t prepared, that are trying to convince me to hold back, but I don’t want to listen to those parts. Not when it feels so good not to.”
“Jesus, Camille.”
This kiss is long, slow, and deep.
A thorough exploration.
His tongue gliding along mine as if he’s trying to memorize every bit of my mouth.
Strong fingers tighten on my hips as he tries to push closer, but my belly won’t let him. I release a little frustrated groan, and he chuckles, kissing me again lightly and drawing back his head.
My pussy clenches at the need in his gaze and the heat that matches the fire burning through me now.
It was so much easier to blame it on the hormones in the beginning—and they may have played a role in finally sending me over this edge—but it’s never been just that.
It’s been Dalton.
What he does to me, what he does for me. How caring and kind, thoughtful and protective he is. How much I can feel the sincerity of every fucking word he has ever said to me.
He’s never lied, never withheld information that he didn’t think was to protect Davey or me. And that’s what he’s trying to do now by asking me to leave.
“You really want me to go?”
He shakes his head and kisses his way to my ear, where he sucks gently on the lobe, making my body twitch and my thighs clench against the throb between them. “No.”
“Then I’ll stay. I don’t want you and Pops up here alone, either.”
“Take Pops with you.” Warm breath flutters over my skin, raising goosebumps. “It’ll be safer for him away from the mountain.”
I shake my head and tilt my neck, giving him better access as he explores it and the area behind my ear in a way that sends little jolts of pleasure through me.
His hand glides over my stomach, and he caresses me gently. The baby kicks against his hand, and I feel his lips curl into a smile against my cheek. “I know you want to stay, and God, I want you to be here every minute, but until this is resolved, I need you to go. I need to be able to concentrate and know you’re safe. I don’t want you to tell me where. I don’t want to have that information. But when you come home, it’ll be forever.”
He draws his head back, and I release a pitiful sigh at how ridiculously fast I seem to have fallen for this man.
“This is what you need?”
Dalton nods, even though the pain in his gaze tells me it’s the furthest from what he wants. “I promise it won’t be for long. I have no intention of dragging this out…”
“Good, because even the thought of leaving the mountain, of leaving you…” I squeeze my eyes closed and shake my head. “I can’t.”
His hand slides lower and slips between my legs, rubbing the same way I taught him yesterday. “Then let me give you something else to think about.”