Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
JESSAMY
W hile they’re out chopping wood, I enjoy my sandwich by the fireplace. My gaze drifts, pulled by the room itself. Malcolm’s space. His belongings. His tastes and habits.
I wander over to his bookshelf, running my fingertips along the spines of well-worn mystery novels and countless manuals on do-it-yourself home repairs and upgrades. Each book feels like a testament to who he is—a man who builds, fixes, and creates. He’s built a life out here for himself, in every sense of the word.
Everything I own was bought or given. I’ve always dreamed of doing something like this. To start from scratch and create something mine and Beau’s. But the dreams always buckle under excuses: no time, no skills. Sure, I could learn. But then—oh, there’s that pesky lack of time again. So the dream gets shelved, just like the books on his wall, lost in the endless loop of everyday life.
I sigh, pulling a gruesome-looking mystery from the shelf by J.P. Holwood. Maybe a little fictional murder will lighten my mood while I wait for Beau and Malcolm to return.
Settling by the fire, I let the flames dance in my periphery as my eyes skim the pages. But something nags at me—a sensation, low and restless. It’s not bad, exactly. Just… off.
One chapter in, I pinpoint it.
I’m calm.
I’m not clawing for just one more minute of sleep before a long day at the café. I’m not sitting at an empty kitchen table, my coffee cooling in my mug, aching for Beau to come home.
Because he’s here. We’re here. Together . Working to save our marriage.
And… it’s working?
I think.
I hope.
Closing my eyes, I take a breath, repeating my hopes like a prayer, thinking of Beau and envisioning a perfect life for us. As I do, a scent pushes beneath my nose. Light and floral. Lavender.
I open my eyes, the sensation of someone passing by stealing my attention, but there’s no one there. Just myself and the crackling fire. Just the lingering, pleasant scent in the air. Another breath, and it’s gone, the room settling with that cedar smell again.
My gaze drifts toward Malcolm’s chair by the fireplace. It’s empty, but it still commands a quiet, imposing presence. The fire’s warmth prickles along my skin, and for a fleeting moment, I let myself smile.
I could stay here forever.
The thought forms, soft and tempting, before guilt twists in my stomach, sour and sharp. But why should I feel guilty for wanting happiness? For wanting my family— our family—to be happy?
I’m miserable. Beau’s miserable. But here, on this mountain in Kiss County, we smile. We kiss. We laugh. We make love in the shower and… in front of other people.
Malcolm.
My thoughts of him linger too long, threatening to spiral. But then boots thud on the porch outside, breaking the spell.
The front door swings open, letting in a blast of cold air. My smile returns as Beau charges inside, his nose and cheeks a bright, frosty red, his arms stacked high with wooden logs.
I set the book down and stand to help, the floorboards creaking under my weight. “Welcome back,” I greet, glancing past him as Malcolm follows, his larger frame shadowed in the doorway, his own load of logs piled even higher. “I see the trip was successful.”
Malcolm nods as he strides past me. He drops the wood near the fireplace with a heavy thud.
Beau lingers at my side. “I need to talk to you,” he whispers low enough for only me to hear.
I flick a glance at Malcolm. “Okay. What’s up?”
Beau hesitates, his jaw tightening as Malcolm returns. Without a word, he plucks the remaining logs from Beau’s arms, and walks back toward the fireplace, the air between us—between them— humming with tension.
“What’s going on?” I ask Beau.
Beau takes my hand, his fingers chilled from the cold. “Malcolm, if you don’t mind, I’d like a minute alone with my wife.”
The way he says it— my wife —makes my spine stiffen. There’s something territorial about it, something possessive and… wonderful.
My heart skips. Twice.
Malcolm doesn’t so much as blink. He gestures toward the loft stairs with a casual wave of his hand.
Beau nods his thanks, his grip firm as he leads me up the stairs, every creak underfoot seeming to magnify the tension coiled in his body.
The loft is the one place in this little cabin we haven’t been in yet. We both take the moment to scan around, taking it in. It’s cozy with a king-sized bed that dominates the far wall, its rustic quilt pulled tight over the mattress. It’s flanked by two mis-matched nightstands. A single lamp rests on one of them, casting a soft glow, while the other is bare, its wood polished to a subtle shine. A wooden dresser stands nearby, a neat stack of sweaters folded on top for quick access.
Beau perches at the edge of the bed, his shoulders rigid, his posture screaming with unease.
I join him; the mattress dipping under our combined weight. “Beau, what’s up?” I ask, my voice gentle.
He says nothing for a long moment, his eyes avoiding mine. “I just wanted to, uh…”
“What happened out there?”
“Nothing,” he blurts.
“You’re still wearing your coat.”
He shucks it off, dropping it to the floor at our feet.
I release a chuckle, the awkward pressure almost too much. “Okay. You’re freaking me out a little here.”
“Sorry. I don’t mean to. I… there’s something I need to tell you. I thought it might come up this weekend, but I also hoped it wouldn’t, and then Malcolm said something that… well, I’ll just say it.”
I sit still, worried but intrigued. “Okay,” I say.
Beau swallows, the outline of his throat bobbing as he looks me in the eye. “You remember my old roommate? The one that we…”
“Of course.”
“And you know that he and I… once.”
“Fooled around?” I voice, giving words to it so he doesn’t have to.
“Right. Yeah.”
“I know,” I say. “You told me all about it.”
“I did, yeah.”
“But that was before we got together. Right?” I add to make sure.
“Yes!” Beau answers, assuring me. “That was long before we met. Well, not long before, but still before.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding, still nervous about where this is going.
“But what I haven’t told you—what I haven’t told anyone —is that…” He pauses, letting the words build on his tongue, tasting whatever unpleasantness they leave. “I still think about it.”
“About him?”
“Not him, specifically,” he says, working through it. “But the things we did together.” His eyes dip downward. “I liked it.”
Those things they did together are no secret to me, of course, but the look in his eyes still leaves a knot in my stomach. “Okay. So, you’re…”
I let it linger, wanting him to be the one to say it.
“Curious,” Beau says.
“All right.”
“All right?” he repeats.
I smile. “Beau, I’ve always known you were curious. And I’m not cocky enough to think my magical vagina turned you straight.”
He laughs. “I know you knew. It’s just… not something we ever talk about.”
“You think your family will find out,” I say, that much being obvious.
“I don’t know what they’d do if they…” Beau frowns. “Christ, why do I even care what they think?”
I smile. Oh, how long I’ve waited for him to say just that! For him to show any outward sign of rebellion. “You can always talk to me, Beau,” I tell him. “About anything. You know that.”
“I do,” he says with a nod, his eyes finding mine again.
I take his hand, entwining our fingers and holding it close to my heart. “I love you. All of you.”
I kiss his fingers. He kisses mine.
“I love you, too,” he says. “I know I haven’t said it much lately. I just… I don’t know. I felt you pulling away, so I started pulling away, too.”
His voice fades.
“It’s okay, Beau.”
“No, it’s not.” He locks eyes with me, leaning in until our foreheads touch. “I love you so much, Jess.”
I grin, my entire body tingling now. “What brought this on?” I ask. “What the hell happened out there?”
Beau looks forward, searching below for the only other soul in this place.
“Malcolm,” I say before he can.
“I guess he picked up on… it,” he says. “In the woodshed, he…” Beau hesitates. A bit of blush touches his cheeks and I recall the same attraction in Malcolm’s eyes when he spoke of Beau early.
“Did he come onto you?” I ask, not jealous or even angry. More intrigued by the gossip of it than anything else.
Beau takes a moment. “I know he asked you what I’d think if he kissed you.”
I tilt back, my stomach pinching. “He told you that?”
A nod, but his smile remains. “I guess we give off a vibe.”
We chuckle together. “I guess we do,” I say. “God, I want to take this feeling home with me.”
“I don’t even want to think about home.”
“Me neither.” Our lips graze. “I don’t know what it is, but this place… Kiss County really feels like a different world, doesn’t it?”
“It does.”
I take a moment, allowing myself to get lost in his eyes, allowing him to get lost in mine. “You like him,” I say.
Beau holds his breath. “I do,” he admits. “So do you.”
I don’t deny it. “Whatever happens, happens,” I say.
He chuckles, his eyes bright with nostalgia. “Been a while since we’ve said that.”
“Why did we stop?”
“I’m not sure.” He bites his lip. “Guess we just forgot.”
“Well, I say it’s time we bring it back.” I smile, keeping close; feeling closer than we’ve ever been. “Whatever happens out here, happens, Beau. We’re together. That’s all that matters to me.”
He kisses me, hard and slow, the act filled with love and longing. “That’s all that matters to me, too,” he whispers. His body already feels looser, like his old self. Like his real self, and not the perfect doting son he wears for his family all day, every day. Like the way he was before they gripped him in a corporate vise. Like the carefree man who promised to take me on adventures, who vowed to love me and swore to give me the life of our dreams.
When he kisses me again, I kiss him back. I curl my arms around him and he guides me down, forcing me to lie back on the bed.
I giggle like an idiot, happiness threatening to pour out of me. “Beau,” I say, “this isn’t our bed.”
Uncaring, he kisses me again, his hand coming to rest on my breast over my sweater. “He won’t mind,” he teases, moving his hand down my body. He tugs at my jeans’ zipper, his tongue caressing mine as he slides his hand in.
I sigh, his fingers touching flesh. “Your hands are cold.”
“Warm them up,” he says, his words laced with aching passion.
I whimper with desire, clinging to Beau’s shirt as his hand dips lower, his teasing fingers finding just the right spot. Sharp inhales and tender whispers fill the air, blending with the icy winds of winter outside, the quiet crackle of the fire down below. I sink deeper into the mattress, the weight of our hearts beating together, pinning me down. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, no one else I’d rather be?—
“Excuse me.”
Malcolm’s voice yanks us from our tryst. Beau and I sit up, his hand pulling free of my pants as Malcolm’s weight creaks the wood at the top of the stairs.
“Just grabbing some fresh socks,” he says, passing to his dresser, his eyes averted. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“No, it’s okay,” I say, dabbing my lips with my sleeve. “This was… We’re being inappropriate.”
“Yeah,” Beau agrees, his hands in his lap. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine,” Malcolm says, his eyes teasing. “Quite the adventure, huh?”
I glance at Beau, the words making both of us smile. We came to Kiss County to fall in love again. We chased rumors and legends of love, hoping that whatever it is about this place that brings people together would find us, too.
And it did.
But we found him, too.
Malcolm with his quiet strength and gentle encouragement. Who knows what could have happened if he didn’t come upon us on the road, fighting for our lives at the top of Tall Mountain? I don’t want to ever think about it.
Quite the adventure, indeed.
Beau closes his hand around mine, the love I have for him reflecting at me through his eyes. Of course, our problems aren’t gone—not even close—but the spark between is alive again.
“Malcolm,” Beau says as Malcolm takes a step toward the stairs. “You should stay.”
I stare silently at Beau as my stomach quivers with butterflies.
Whatever happens, happens.