Page 91 of When The Mountains Held Us

The German shepherd scarfs his breakfast down greedily. I swear he doesn’t take a breath until he’s finished every last morsel. His tongue wags happily, and I sit down on the kitchen tile to scratch behind his ears and bury my face in his soft fur.

“Don’t tell me I’ve already been replaced.”

I reluctantly let go of my furry friend at the sound of Levi’s voice. He’s standing behind me at the front door, putting on his work boots. I make my way over to him.

“He is really cute, and he doesn’t talk back.” I shrug, then let out a high-pitched yelp as he grips my waist and spins me around before setting me back on my feet.

“You love it when I talk back,” he reminds me.

“You have the mouth of a sailor,” I scold, narrowing my eyes in an attempt at seriousness.

He quirks a brow at me, a wicked glint in his eyes. “You love my filthy mouth.” His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, and my eyes catch on the movement. “Mmm, I can still taste you.”

He squeezes his arms around me, his hands traveling up my spine to cup the back of my neck before his mouth descends on mine in a kiss so passionate that it has the blood boiling in my veins. I kiss him back, noting the lingering taste of myself on his lips and not minding one bit.

The siren inside me does a little shimmy at the thought of Levi walking around with my taste on his tongue for the rest of the day. All too soon, the kiss is over, and I’m waving Levi out the door with a promise to text him throughout the day.

I wish I could say I’m productive after Levi leaves for work, but in all honesty, I need rest after we practically pulled an all-nighter last night. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed it immensely, and I’m already counting down the minutes until he gets home this afternoon and we can do it all over again, but my body needs rest. I curl up on the couch with Bandit, flipping the television to something mindless, and before I know it, I’m passing out in a comforting cocoon of blankets and fur.

My phone buzzes some time later, and when I glance at the time, I realize it’s already almost three in the afternoon. I have a few missed texts from Levi wondering what I’m doing and if I want him to pick up pizza for dinner on the way home. I shoot out a quick reply—Yes, pizza would be great, and I’ve been sleeping since someone kept me up all night—and then scroll through a few of the other missed messages.

Most are from my ex from weeks ago that I never opened and apparently never deleted. I swipe on some of them to finally delete them for good, but then stop, an uncomfortable feeling settling in the pit of my stomach and telling me to hold on to them just in case. It seems ridiculous to hang on to such vile, hateful words, but my instincts are usually right, and I might need them one day as proof. Hopefully, things don’t go that far, and I’ll look back on this time in my life years from now, with Levi by my side, and finally let them go.

I scroll past the offending texts and almost skip past one from an unknown number, but the beginning of the message catches my attention and I click into it.

Unknown

It’s Layla. I’m sick with a stomach bug and can’t make it in tonight. I told Joe you’d cover my closing shift.

I roll my eyes, irritation sparking at the fucking audacity of this woman. I’d been looking forward to spending more time with Levi tonight, but I could use the extra cash. I leave the message on read, not bothering to give her the satisfaction of a reply and head upstairs to get ready.

I type out a quick text to Levi, letting him know I picked up a shift tonight, so he doesn’t worry when he gets home and I’m not here. I don’t want him thinking I’m second-guessing anything from last night or this morning, but I know that if I don’t tell him where I am, all he’ll do is worry anyway.

Forty-Four

Levi

Ishould have called in sick. I’d rather be between Oakley’s legs again or, hell, even just holding her, than in this too-small office with no air conditioning and the hulking forms of both Justin and Harold. The temperature outside has dropped significantly from the typical heat in the height of summer, but the sun still beats through the thick glass windows of the office, effectively making it feel as hot as a sauna. I wipe the sweat from my brow and stare down at the paperwork in my hand, trying to make sense of the numbers scrawled in chicken scratch in the margins.

“Hey, Harold,” I call over my shoulder. “This important?” I wave the tattered papers at him.

He rolls his eyes at me, hands on his hips as he shoots me a look that tells me he is in no way in the mood for my bullshit.

“Now, don’t you think if it wasn’t I would have already thrown it out?”

Smug old bastard.

“Not likely,” Justin comments under his breath from where he sits on the floor, surrounded by filing boxes stuffed full to the brim with miscellaneous bills and receipts that I’m certain are so old they probably date back to the flood.

I snicker at my friend, and he sticks his tongue out at me, which only further solidifies the fact that he looks like an overgrown toddler during story time on the circle rug.

“I’m not sure where you want all this stuff,” I say placatingly, knowing that if I get annoyed it’ll only spur Harold to raise even more hell. The old man’s overwhelmed, that’s for sure, and I don’t blame him.

When his wife, Sherry, passed nearly ten years ago, the paperwork and filing fell to the wayside. Now, with Harold nearing his mid-eighties, the task is too much for one man to handle. I feel for him, I really do. It must be devastating to spend a lifetime with someone, only to wake up one day and not have them next to you anymore. Add the grief of losing them on top of trying to continue running a successful business, and it’s no wonder the clerical work got put on the back burner.

“I don’t know either.” Harold sighs, looking defeated as he scans the room. More filing boxes are stacked high in the corners, encroaching on the already too-small space.

“Why don’t you go digital?” Justin suggests, clutching a handful of dusty manila file folders in each hand.