My stomach clenched. The thought of some other man putting his hands on her had me seeing red. But I wanted to hear what she had to say, so I bit my tongue and waited.
“He cheated on me,” she added, her voice quiet and flat. “With someone from his office. Someone he hired. I walked in on them in our apartment, on the Italian leather sofa we’d picked out together.”
I stared at the ceiling, fury flickering hot in my chest. I didn’t know the guy, but I wanted to put a fist through a wall justthinking about it. Then I wanted to wrap her in my arms and promise her I’d never let anyone hurt her again.
“He begged for forgiveness. Said it would never happen again and even bought me a diamond necklace.” She let out a dry laugh. “My first piece of apology jewelry. My whole family told me I should forgive him, but I needed out. Out of the city. Out of that life. My uncle left me this place, and it was all I could think about.”
Her voice wavered, just enough that I slid a hand up to cup the back of her neck and guide her back down to my chest.
“I’m sorry,” I said, meaning every damn word.
She let out a bitter little laugh. “Don’t be. It sucked, yeah, but I think maybe it was the best thing that could’ve happened to me.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because it brought me here. To you.”
Her voice was soft, but the words landed like a sniper’s shot. Sharp, fast, and right where it hurt. My throat tightened, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe past the ache expanding in my ribs. No one had ever said anything like that to me. Not me, the broken-down man who lived on top of a mountain to avoid feeling anything.
I wanted to say something back. Anything. But all I could do was hold her a little tighter, like she might disappear if I let go.
A beat passed. Her finger started moving across my chest again, slower this time.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, Griff. Not just with the lodge—with you, with this.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “But it doesn’t feel wrong.”
I tightened my hold on her. “It’s not.”
She looked up again, her eyes shining in the low light. “Why are you here? What brought you to Misty Mountain and why do you keep everyone away?”
I stiffened.
She must’ve felt it, because she pressed her palm to my ribs and added, “You don’t have to tell me. I just want to understand.”
I stared up at the exposed beams above us and swallowed. “I lost my unit. In Afghanistan.”
Juniper stilled.
“It was a routine mission—should’ve been, anyway. I was point. We were moving through a tight valley and the intel was bad. Real bad.” My voice grew quieter. “Ambush. No way out. Five of my guys were gone in minutes.”
“Griff…” she whispered, her hand sliding up my chest.
“I made it out. Barely. But I shouldn’t have.” I forced the words out, each one like shrapnel still buried under my skin. “I should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve done something different. I play it over in my head every night, trying to figure out what I missed.”
Her fingers curled gently into my side, anchoring me.
“I left the Army, moved back to Texas. But even there, I couldn’t breathe. Mama Mae—my foster mother—she saw it. She knew I needed something different. Something quiet.” I finally looked at her. “The mountain’s the only place I’ve ever been where the silence didn’t feel like punishment.”
Juniper’s eyes were glassy, but she didn’t cry. She just nodded and leaned in to press a kiss over my heart. “You don’t have to carry it alone anymore.”
The words were simple. But they wrecked me.
Because I didn’t realize how badly I needed to hear them until she said them out loud.
We stayed like that for a long time—her head on my chest, my arms around her, our secrets laid bare. And when I finally closed my eyes, I didn’t see blood or sand or gunfire.
I only saw her.
CHAPTER 8
