Sable Peak (The Edens)

Part 1 – Before

DECEMBER

I was surrounded by Edens.

“Can I get you something to drink, Vera?” Anne. The mother. Her name was Anne, right?

“Um … sure. Water, please.”

“You got it.” Anne—I was ninety percent sure that was her name—quickly filled a glass from the sink. She delivered it to my seat at the kitchen island with a smile, then returned to the stove to stir the spaghetti sauce.

A large pot of water was boiling for the pasta. Steam coiled up into the overhead fan. The scents of garlic, tomatoes and herbs infused the room, mingling with the voices.

There was so much talking in this kitchen. So many people. So many Edens.

I used to love being in the middle of a crowd.

Before.

Now? I wasn’t sure yet. Maybe I hated them. Maybe I liked them. Considering this evening was my first foray into a social life, it was too soon to tell.

“You okay?” Uncle Vance leaned in close to speak quietly in my ear.

“There’s a lot of them,” I whispered.

He put his hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Just breathe.”

Lyla, his girlfriend, scooted her stool a little closer to mine.

Vance and Lyla were the only people I knew here tonight. This was Lyla’s childhood home and her parents had invited us out for a family dinner.

She’d warned me on the drive that it would be loud. An understatement. There were at least five different conversations overlapping each other. Pockets of laughter bubbled up from every corner of the room. This wasn’t loud.

This was chaos.

Did I like it? Sort of.

I drew in a long breath, holding it in my lungs until it burned, then blew it out. Then I sipped my water, letting it clear the scratch in my throat while I listened.

“What does Drake want for Christmas?” Lyla asked a blond woman.

What was her name? Madison? No, Memphis.

Memphis. Memphis. Memphis.

Her husband was Knox, the tattooed, bearded one. Or was she married to the cowboy? What was his name again? Garth? No, Griffin.

There were too many Edens.

“Anything dinosaur,” Memphis told Lyla just as a string of kids rushed into the kitchen.

They blew in like a wild breeze, sweeping in, then out, disappearing back into whatever room they were playing in. Not a chance I’d figure out the kids’ names tonight. My goal was to get their parents sorted first.

“Did you enjoy your time at the hotel, Vera?” Eloise asked.

“Yes, it was lovely.” I was one hundred percent certain her name was Eloise because it was written on the hotel where I’d spent the past week.

But who was her husband? Jasper or Foster? Both men were sitting at the table in the adjoining dining room. One had a beard, and I was pretty sure that he was Foster.

Foster was the UFC fighter and he was married to Talia. Talia was Lyla’s twin. So that meant that Jasper was Eloise’s husband, right? Maybe?

Oh, God. I had a headache.

This dinner was a bad idea. It was too much, too soon. But I hadn’t had the heart to tell Lyla no. She’d been so excited for me to meet her family, something she’d told me no less than five times as we’d moved my things out of The Eloise Inn.

I’d spent the past week sequestered in my hotel room, enjoying the solitude and endless hours of TV. If I could have stayed for a month, I would have, except the hotel was booked for the holidays. From now until January, every room was taken, including mine.

Besides, I’d spent enough of Uncle Vance’s money. He didn’t need to be wasting anything extra on a hotel charge. So this morning, with a heavy heart, I’d packed my suitcases and checked out.

For the time being, the upstairs guest bedroom at Lyla’s farmhouse would be mine. It was a lovely room, and her house was the epitome of cozy. I had privacy. Down pillows. A mattress. Hot water. Flushing toilets. Electricity.

There was nothing for me to complain about.

But at the moment, I really wanted to be in the mountains, in a cold, drafty shelter where the only person around was Dad. Where I didn’t have to worry about the noise or the names or being that awkward outsider at a family dinner.This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

I really missed my dad. I missed him so much it hurt to breathe.

Maybe I shouldn’t have left him. Here I was, surrounded by Edens, and he was out there alone.

Was he okay? Was he still in Montana? Was he angry at me for leaving? It felt like a lifetime ago, not seven weeks, since we’d said goodbye.

My gaze drifted to the window over the sink and the darkness beyond. White snowflakes tickled the glass. Every morning this week I’d woken up to find two or three more inches of fluffy white covering Quincy, Montana. And mountains were buried beneath the snow and ice.

Had Dad found a safe, warm place to stay this winter? Maybe he’d hiked south to Arizona or Nevada to spend a few months in the desert. Maybe he’d trekked north to Canada, where it would be easier to avoid the FBI. Without me along, slowing his pace, how far could he have traveled on foot in seven weeks?

“Are you heading back to Idaho before Christmas?” Harrison asked Vance.

Harrison was Lyla’s father. There was a kid, a small one, named Harrison too. Because why make it easy for newcomers.

“I’m not sure when we’ll head back.” Vance looked to me with a silent reminder that it was my choice.

Sooner or later, we needed to return to his house in Coeur d’Alene. He had belongings to pack. He had a life to finish relocating to Montana. Except I hated Coeur d’Alene. I hated that it was my hometown.

But as much as I wanted to pretend it didn’t exist, we had to go back. One last time.

“Before Christmas.” When the new year began, I wanted to start fresh. Here, in Quincy.

Vance nodded. “Before Christmas.”

He’d given me as much freedom and choice as possible over the past seven weeks. Not that I’d wanted much freedom. I’d stuck to him like glue, especially in the early days right after leaving Dad.

This past week at The Eloise had been the most time I’d spent alone in four years. It was weird not to have Dad. When was it going to stop being weird?

But as much as I missed him, as weird as it was, I sort of liked being alone too. In high school, I’d loathed being by myself with nothing to do. Dad had always called me his bouncy ball, in perpetual motion. But that was before.

The quiet and stillness weren’t so bad.

I liked late nights, when the stars were bright. I liked early mornings, when the world was asleep. I liked TV. I liked hot coffee. I liked shaving my legs every day so that when I slept, my skin was smooth.

I was rediscovering what I liked. And what I didn’t.

“Veggies?” Lyla slid the tray of veggies and ranch dip closer.

“Um, sure.” There were toothpicks on the counter. Were those for the veggies? Or just the cheese cubes and black olives and mini pickles?

No one had touched the veggies. Everyone had used toothpicks.

I snagged one from the glass dish, hovering the tip over the vegetables. I didn’t like celery or broccoli, so I skipped over those and opted for a baby carrot.

The toothpick wouldn’t pierce it. Stab. Stab. Stab. It kept rolling away. I stabbed harder.

My toothpick broke.

I was surrounded by Edens. And everyone was staring at me.

Winslow—Winn—snagged a carrot from the tray, using her fingers. She dunked it in the ranch and popped it in her mouth.

Everyone descended on the tray. With their fingers.

I tucked mine in my lap.

“So Vance,” Winn said. “I know you’re not settled yet. But if you’re interested in a job, I’d love a visit. Come down to the station anytime.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Winn was married to either the cowboy or the chef. And she was Quincy’s chief of police.

“Thanks, Winn,” Vance said, sharing a look with Lyla. “I’d like that.”

For his sake, I hoped Winn could find a place for him in her department. It would be strange to see him work construction or in an office. He was meant to carry a badge. He was a great cop, like Dad had been once. Before.

“What can I help with, Anne?” Harrison moved to stand behind his wife at the stove, placing his hands on her shoulders as he bent and kissed her temple. “Put me to work, darlin’.”

Anne. Her name was Anne.

Anne. Anne. Anne.

She smiled up at him. “Would you call your son and find out if he’s on his way?”

Wait. There was another one?

I scanned the room. Lyla’s brothers and sisters all had rich, brown hair and sapphire-blue eyes.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

There were six siblings. We were missing an Eden. Damn it. Who? Whose name was I going to forget next?

Harrison had just dug his phone from a pocket of his Wrangler jeans when the front door closed and boots stomped down the hallway. “There he is.”

He strode into the room wearing a pair of faded jeans and a black plaid shirt with its sleeves rolled up his forearms. It hung open, revealing a white T-shirt underneath that pulled tight across his broad chest. A silver and gold belt buckle gleamed beneath a flat stomach. His brown cowboy boots were scuffed and faded. Like the other Edens, he had dark hair and sapphire eyes.

It was the playful grin that set him apart. The mischievous smirk on his soft lips. The sharp corners of his stubbled jaw and the twinkle in his blue gaze.

This kitchen was full of beautiful people.

He put them all to shame.

My heart pounded. My face flushed. I was staring like a fool but couldn’t stop. I couldn’t blink. My body was having a whole reaction with or without my brain’s permission.

“Finally,” Eloise groaned. “I’m starving.”

“Sorry I’m late.”

God, his voice was incredible. Deep and rugged and smooth. A shiver raced down my spine.

Everyone drew closer to him, like he was a magnet and they were metal. That pull was so tempting but I kept my seat, clutching the stool’s edge so I wouldn’t topple over.

He shook his brothers’ hands. They talked and laughed. When Lyla moved closer, he pulled her into a sideways hug, his tall frame towering over hers.

A flutter stirred in my belly, whirling and falling and lifting and spinning, like the snowflakes blowing outside.

He was …

I couldn’t think of the right word. Perfect? Handsome? Mesmerizing?

Yes. Mesmerizing.

“Come meet Vera.” Lyla tugged him over, smiling as they shuffled toward the island.

“Hey.” He dipped his chin, like he was tipping an invisible hat. “I’m Mateo.”

That name locked into place for all time.

Mateo.