Chapter 40
Knock-On: A mistake that stops the play.
Translation: Refusing reality.
Everly
“Everly, how much corn is too much corn for the alpacas?” My walkie-talkie beeps on my hip with the voice of my uncle Calder.
I push my hair out of my face and pull the receiver up to my mouth. “That’s a Trista question. Or Hilow. I know he’s here
somewhere.”
“Roger that,” Calder’s voice cuts in again. “There’s a pack of twelve-year-old girls in the barn, and I feel like Sir Poops
a Lot is going to live up to his name if I let this go on much longer.”
“Find Ethan,” I beep back, swerving my eyes around Mount Millie. “If anyone can bust up a pack of girls, it’s my brother.”
“I have eyes on Ethan . . . We’re good. Roger,” Calder says, ending the communication.
I frown and shake my head at that abrupt end and look up to take in the space from my spot behind the silent auction table.
Mount Millie looks like a scene out of a Hallmark movie as the sun sets over the peak, casting a golden glow on the first
Mountain Men for a Mission event. It’s bursting at the seams with easily over a hundred people—most of whom are getting bused
up here from the Mercantile in a sprinter van that I was able to get donated for the evening.
Twinkle lights are strung up between all the trees, and there’s acoustic guitar music spilling out from the stage we set up directly in front of the barn.
Smoke from the food vendors curls into the night air, carrying the smell of barbecue and fried food.
There’s a beer garden out by the paddock, along with several vendors selling various homemade goods from around the area and a long table of silent auction items I secured for the night.
Kids run wild from one jumping station to the next, faces painted and sticky from snow cones, while their parents pretend
not to notice because they’re too busy in the beer garden.
My uncles are stationed throughout the area, manning different parts of the center. Calder and Trista in the barn, Wyatt at
the road entrance, and Luke at the beer tent. My dad and Cozy, as well as my aunties, are making everyone feel right at home,
along with my grandma.
Everybody keeps giving me big thumbs-up, congratulating me on a beautiful event. Patrons ask for ways they can support the
cause, and I have pamphlets with QR codes at the ready.
This event is launching Mount Millie Rescue Center to the next level, and I feel overwhelmed with pride over everything we’ve
accomplished here in just a couple of months.
My hope is that we can raise enough money so Trista can hire someone else to take over for me, and I can move on to my job
in Denver. I swore Luke to secrecy about me considering a move to Denver because I’m dreading telling Trista that I’m interested
in moving on, especially after she just lost Wolf.
My heart sinks as I think about the rugby player who I can’t get out of my head. I swear he had me take Rugby just to make
it impossible for me to forget about him. Every time I look at our little bearded dragon, I can’t help but picture Wolf watching
me hold him. He had the most tender, adoring look in his eyes every time we played with Rugby. I should have known he loved
me. It was written all over his face. But I can’t say it back. I can’t be the one to take away a life he should be living.
Cliona called and ripped me a new asshole.
Told me I’m an idiot for taking her brother from her and then stomping all over his heart.
Then she told me he’s staying in Denver, and if I don’t make this right, she’ll never forgive me.
I want to make it right, but I can’t bring myself to call him yet.
I’m fucking terrified of him rejecting me.
Luke said love will find me, and I shouldn’t worry, but I’m not sure he realizes how epically I fumbled this one.
I shake my head, snapping myself out of my inner spiral when I see another vanload of people arrive. I walk over to welcome
them and nearly trip on my face when I spot a tall, dark, and tattooed rugby player that I know all too well. I’d better work
on my poker face tonight, or I’ll never survive this auction.
Wolf
“Holy shit, lad, this is a proper party, isn’t it?” Fergie says, bouncing on his feet as we walk through the Mount Millie
grounds.
I look around in amazement over the transformation this peak has gone through since I left. It’s no longer the quiet little
animal sanctuary I’d been working at the start of the summer. It’s now a bustling, colorful, thriving destination alive with
life and people.
And it’s all because of Everly Fletcher.
I clench my jaw and try not to give a shite about any of it because caring hurts.
But I do care.
Fuck.
I care a whole hell of a lot. And not just because I respect Trista and what she’s accomplished with this facility.
But because this is Everly’s hard work tonight.
And even though she ripped my heart out and threw it down Fletcher Mountain, I’m still fiercely proud of her for organizing all of this. The girl is a force of nature.
“Nice to see you again, boys,” a familiar voice sings, and my teammates and I all turn around to see the tall, stunning blonde
before us. “I was worried you were going to stand me up.”
“We’d never do that, pet,” Fergie says, walking over to Everly and scooping her up into a big, spinning hug.
She squeals, and my jaw cracks with jealousy over the fact that my teammate can touch her, but I can’t.
My eyes can’t help but drink her in. She’s stunning in a red-and-white-checkered sundress with cowboy boots, and I ache to
tell her she looks beautiful. Just a week ago, I’d have been able to do that. I’d be able to pull her into the barn and steal
a kiss before guests started showing up. I’d have been the one she bossed around on this mountain to set things up. I’d be
the one zipping up her dress for her or breathing in the lush scent of whatever perfume she put on before we came down the
peak.
I’d be the one taking her home at the end of the night and fucking her to sleep after a job well done. She’d be mine to cherish.
To hold. To praise. To whisper how bloody proud of her I was and how in love with her I am for being so incredible.
But I can’t do any of that.
She made her feelings very clear, and given that she didn’t reach out this past week, it’s obvious she’s done with whatever
we were. And I’m done trying to hope otherwise, even if that does make me a coward like my sister said.
I fucking love Everly. How could I not? I’ve probably loved her for years. But I lived in a fantasy in those years too. Even though knowing her more has surpassed
my dreams or imaginings of who she is—wholesome, kind, spirited, sexy, fun—I can’t hate her for not living up to my expectations that I projected on her. She’s not ready to entrust her heart to someone. Sometimes love remains unrequited, and we have to fucking carry on.
That’ll be harder since I’m staying in Colorado for the next year, at least, but I’m not staying with Everly Fletcher, and
that’s something I need to get used to.
I resisted her for four years. What’s another lifetime?
“We have a little green room set up for you guys . . . and by green room, it’s really just the feed room in the barn, but
there’s cold drinks and snacks, so please, come right this way. The auction will start in just ten minutes.”
Everly’s blue eyes catch mine as she gestures for the guys to walk ahead of her, and I cast my own down as I follow them,
taking my place as just another one of the rugby players up for bid tonight.
Maybe I’ll get lucky, and someone will win me who’ll help me forget Everly Fletcher, full stop. A guy can dream, right?