ChapterTwenty-Eight #2
We’re quiet, but it’s comfortable. I’m enjoying the rustling leaves and occasional birdsong. Rosalia seems lost in thought, glancing occasionally at the canopy of trees above us.
“Do you miss her?” she asks suddenly.
“Miss who?” The question seems to have materialized from thin air.
“Your sister,” she clarifies. “You mentioned riding with her earlier. And you must talk about books, if you’re sending them to her. Are you two close? ”
Her question catches me off guard. We’d talked about Lillianna weeks ago at Novel Idea. I didn’t expect Rosalia to remember the conversation, let alone where my sister’s currently living.
The trail curves around a large boulder, revealing red and gold sandstone cliffs through the trees. Rosalia pauses, her attention drawn to the scenery. Her foot catches on an exposed root as she steps forward.
She slips, jolting my hand that’s holding hers. My heart slams against my ribs as panic shoots through me.
“Ow, Sebastian,” she gasps.
Oh, shit. I loosen my hold, my face heating. “Sorry, I—are you okay?” I ask, pulling her closer to the center of the trail, needing her away from any potential drops.
“From tripping? Yes. But I think my fingers are broken,” she teases.
I manage a weak smile, still rattled.
Before I can apologize again, she asks, “When is Lillianna returning from Thailand?”
“It’ll be a while. At least a year. She’s moved on to Cambodia to teach. Besides English, she speaks French and Spanish. She’ll spend a year or two at a school before moving on.”
“That’s so cool. What an adventure!” Rosalia gushes. “She didn’t want to work for the family business? Or is it a guy’s-only club?”
“Kind of. My father wanted her to run marketing and public relations. He said she’d be the ‘face’ of the company. She refused, so I got stuck with that job.”
Rosalia grins. “Good thing you have such a pretty face for it.”
I laugh. “I’ve been called a lot of things. Pretty isn’t one of them.”
“Well, I’m saying it, and it’s true.”
I shake my head, smiling. “Anyway, since he retired and I took over, I’m changing things. Last year, the stillman and mashman I hired were women.”
Rosalia snorts and it’s the cutest damn sound. “Did you hire them to prove a point: the two titles with a man in the name are women?”
I laugh. “No. They are the best in the field. And I guess I should call them distillers and mash operators. Anyway, the point is that I want the best working for me; female, male, and non-binary don’t fit into the hiring equation, only skill.
I’ve tried to get Lillianna to come back now that Dad’s retired, but so far, no luck.
” The trail widens, and I slow my steps until we are side by side, but I don’t let go of Rosalia’s hand.
“She loves the vagabond life and has never been interested in the family business. Although I’m not ready to give up. I miss her, and she’d be an asset.”
“What would’ve happened if you also hadn’t been interested in taking over?”
“My brother would be living his best life.” I frown, unhappy that Thorne has snaked into our conversation.
“He wanted to be master…” She snaps her fingers. “Um, master bourbon man.”
I chuckle. “Master distiller. Yes.”
She nods, continuing to the steep trail that will take us to the top.
I’m not sure if the mention of Thorne has dried up our conversation or if she’s focused on the hike, but I wish she’d keep talking.
Her steady chatter keeps my mind off our final destination.
The sandstone arch is only around sixty-five feet from the ground, but the height still makes my limbs tingle and my pulse race.
We reach the top all too soon. Natural Bridge stretches before us, a graceful arch of ancient sandstone spanning the gap between cliff faces.
My stomach tightens as I take in other visitors scattered along the bridge.
To my left, a family is taking photos near the edge.
Past them, a couple of rock climbers are casually pointing out routes on the distant cliffs far below.
The view opens up to reveal the rolling hills of the Daniel Boone National Forest stretching endlessly toward the horizon, painted in the fresh greens of early spring, but all I can focus on is the dizzying drop.
I point to the center. “Want to sit and rest?”
Shaking her head, she moves to the edge, toward the drop. My stomach dives while she merrily removes her phone from a side pocket and snaps pictures .
My feet are glued to the rock, but I reach toward her. “Rosalia, could you not do that?” I hate that my voice holds a slight quiver.
She looks at me, her cell poised in front of her. “Do what?”
A cold sweat breaks out as I move toward her, keeping to the center of the bridge, refusing to look over the sides and ignoring the way my legs tingle. “Please, don’t go so close to the edge.”
She tilts her head, her brow furrowing. “Are you afraid of heights?”
“I’m not a fan of them.”
“Oh…” Her eyes widen as understanding dawns. “Is that why you were facing away from the window elevator at the Galt?” She pauses, then adds more softly, “And why you won't ride in Blackstone’s balloon?”
I drag my sweaty palms down the thighs of my cargo pants. “Guilty.”
“I had no idea.” Her gaze sweeps the area around us. “And here I dragged you up to—oh wow, look at that hawk!” She points and shuffles back.
Panic shoots through me as I surge forward, wrapping my arms around her. “Be careful,” I gasp.
“I will be,” she promises, melting into me and making the sixty-five-foot heart-attack-inducing bridge worth it. “Look here.” She wiggles her phone. “Smile.”
I do, and she takes a quick photo. After sliding her phone into her pocket, she rubs my forearm that’s wrapped around her. “Why did you agree to this hike?”
“Because you’d mentioned revisiting your favorite childhood hike was on your bucket list. I wanted to make it happen,” I say against her ear.
“I’m glad I did it with you. To make this memory with you,” she murmurs.
I’m in so much damn trouble. This woman and her sweet words have the ability to obliterate my resolve and rules. She made me hope for a future I’d thought was impossible during and after my divorce.
She’s quiet for a moment, still within the circle of my arms, both of us looking out at the horizon. Then she asks softly, “Have you always been afraid of heights?”
I tense slightly, not expecting the question, but her warmth against me makes it easier to answer. “No. It started when I was eight. ”
“What happened?”
I hesitate, rarely sharing this story with anyone.
“My father took Thorne and me to one of the rickhouses where we age the bourbon. Lillianna was sick, so she’d skipped.
Anyway, there were six floors with these narrow walkways between the barrels.
We were on the top floor. My brother was running ahead, showing off as usual.
The railings back then weren’t up to today's safety codes.”
Rosalia shifts slightly to look at my face, her eyes encouraging me to continue.
“He slipped and fell through a gap. Somehow caught himself on the edge.” Even now, my heart races remembering it. “His fingers were losing their grip. I ran and grabbed his wrist just as he lost his grip.”
“Oh my god,” she whispers.
“I was holding him with everything I had, but I wasn’t strong enough to pull him up.
He was slipping and I couldn’t save him.
” The terrified look in my brother’s eyes, my straining muscles to the point of tearing, and the dizzying drop below have never left me.
I fucking hate that feeling of absolute helplessness.
“Dad finally reached us and pulled him to safety, but ever since then…”
“Heights trigger that memory,” she finishes for me.
“It’s not rational. I know that. But my body doesn’t seem to care about logic.”
Rosalia turns fully in my arms, her expression soft. “Yet you came up here anyway. For me.”
“For you,” I repeat.
“Do you want to leave?” she asks.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
Neither of us moves. Contentment sinks into me. Despite the fear that had gripped me moments ago, her presence calms my nerves and fills me with peace. I let go of all that might go wrong with us and allow myself to bask in the warmth of her touch and the sweetness of her scent.
Reluctantly, I loosen my hold and step back to look at her. “Thank you,” I tell her, my voice barely above a whisper.
Her warm brown eyes search mine.“For what? ”
“For being here with me. For making this memory.” I cup her cheek, running a thumb along her soft lips.
Her breath catches in her throat, and her eyes flutter close for a heartbeat. When she opens them again, they shimmer with emotion. “I’m exactly where I want to be,” she murmurs.
I take her hand in mine, and we turn away from the edge of the bridge. We make our way down the trail, our fingers intertwined.
We stay like that for a few more minutes, neither of us wanting to break the spell. Eventually, though, the afternoon heat and other hikers remind us we should head back.
Reluctantly, I loosen my hold and step back. “Ready to head down?”
She nods, but something in her expression shifts as we turn away from the bridge. And the closer we get to my truck, the quieter and more distant she becomes.
I touch her elbow. “Is everything okay?”
She startles. “Yeah, I just...” Her gaze searches my face. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
My heart stumbles. Could this be it? Is she going to admit her deal with Thorne?
“What is it?” I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral.
A bird calls to another nearby, and Rosalia looks in the direction, twisting her fingers together in front of her. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you,” she begins, her voice trembling slightly. “The truth is, I...”
She falters, her gaze dropping to the ground. I stand motionless, my entire body tense. Just say it, I silently urge her.
But she shakes her head, a rueful laugh escaping her. “You know what? It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.”
She quickens her pace, moving ahead of me on the trail. I stare after her, disappointment and frustration warring in my chest. She'd been so close. So damn close to telling me .
But what would I say if she had? That I made a bet to help her? She doesn't need to know I had to play games to protect her. What matters is that it’s working.
I jog the few steps to catch up with her, falling into step beside her. “Rosalia,” I say, infusing sincerity and understanding into my voice. “If there’s something you need to tell me, I’m listening. Always.”
There’s a flicker of guilt in her eyes, but she shakes her head. “Really, it’s nothing.”
I bite back a sigh, my jaw tight. “Okay.”
It isn’t fair to push her, not when I have my secrets, my own stupid fucking bet with Thorne. I have to believe we can fix the mess my brother has started because, despite everything, despite the secrets and the lies, I’m falling for Rosalia. Deeper and harder every day.
And when the truth finally comes out? I can only hope that what we had will be strong enough to weather the storm the three of us have created.