Page 42 of Sinful Sharing

There will be more silence and fewer complications, no temptations, guilt, or risk. So, why does the thought of him leaving feel so wrong?

The answer arrives before I can stop it.

Taylor brought something with him when he arrived. He brought energy, noise, and laughter. Life. I think of our mornings in the kitchen, those late-night dinners. The way Jude teases him. How he blushes in response. The way they drag me into conversations I never meant to have. The ranch feels fuller and warmer now that he’s here. Hell, even I feel different.

The realization lands hard enough to steal my breath. I’ve been telling myself his presence only complicates my life, but in fact, I’ve been breathing easier since he arrived.

“Beautiful,” Wilson mutters.

I stare out into the valley; the wind brushing across my face. I now understand why I’ve been struggling. It’s not because of what happened in front of the fireplace, or because I still desire him when every fiber of my being knows I shouldn’t.

It’s the thought of him leaving that bothers me.

I don’t want to lose what he has brought to this place. To me. To Jude. Realizing that should make things clearer, but it’s worse. Dangerous. No good will come from wanting him to stay. The future of Silver Sage depends on his mother’s trust, and I’ve gotten away with breaking it once. Next time, I might not be so lucky. If I let myself feel whatever I think this is, eventually, I’m going to make a crucial mistake.

The beeping from my watch confirms that it’s time to turn around. Half an hour later, I spot the ranch in the distance. I stare at it as we descend. Since Taylor arrived, I’ve been counting down to his departure like a man waiting for his sentence to end.

Now, for the first time, I wonder what happens when the countdown reaches zero.

26

Taylor

Tearing my gaze away from the sunken pit, I reach for the ringing phone. A second later, Mom’s face appears on the screen. I lean against the chair, pulling the blanket tighter around me. “Hey, Mom.”

“There’s my favorite son,” she greets me.

“I’m your only son.”

“Which makes my statement factually correct.”

I chuckle. She doesn’t laugh back. Peering closer, I see tension in her eyes. “Is everything okay?” I ask.

“Yes and no.” She makes a slight grimace. “I have good and terrible news.”

“Okay…” I swallow, contemplating. “Give me the good news first." At least then I’ll have something to cushion the terrible part.

“The autopsy results came back for Noel,” she says. “He died of a heart attack.”

“Oh, my God.” I cover my mouth. My eyes are like mini saucers on the phone screen.”

“Thankfully, no one suspects foul play, so there won’t be an investigation. You have nothing more to worry about, honey.”

I relax against the seat. Relief forms a balloon in my chest. “Does this mean I can come home?”

Silence. Mom clears her throat. “Um... I think you should stay a while longer.”

“Why?”

Another round of silence. A pitiful look appears on her face. It reminds me of when our bulldog, Argus, got run over by a car when I was ten years old, and I came home to find Mom waiting on the front steps. “Mom.”

“Have you spoken to Celeste?” she asks.

“No. Why?”

“But you gave her the code to your apartment.”

It wasn’t a question. My eyebrows furrow. Unease flickers inside me. “Yes… are you going to tell me what’s going on?”