Page 22 of Tragic (Lark Cove 3)

I wouldn’t be staying inside my own property lines after all. I owed Piper an apology—if she’d even speak to me.

And I’d have to adjust to sharing my mountain with a neighbor.

I didn’t leave my place often. I went into town once a week for groceries and household supplies. The only visitors I had were delivery truck drivers from the lumberyard.

Maybe solitude hadn’t driven me crazy. Maybe this was only a one-time, bad reaction to a sudden change.

Eventually, I’d get used to seeing Piper around. Right? Within a couple of weeks, I’d be used to the added noise and activity. The next time I saw her, I’d behave.

There’d be no kissing against the Airstream or romps on its couch.

My cock twitched, liking the idea of a repeat couch session. Though, having her in an actual bed, where we had space to maneuver, would no doubt be incredible. I pictured her beneath me, with her hair spread out on a white pillow and those dark eyes squeezing shut as I thrust inside.

I was throbbing again, my dick practically dripping at the image.

In the distance, a bird chirped, though it sounded more like a cackle. The damn thing was laughing at me. There’d be no bedtime play in my future.

When I showed up at Piper’s door to apologize, I fully expected her to slam it in my face.

If, or when, that happened, I’d just shout my apology through the thin camper walls. Since it was just her and me on this section of the mountain, I wasn’t worried about another neighbor overhearing me grovel.

The closest house to mine was miles away. The neighbor on my opposite side had built his home on the far edge of his own fifteen-acre plot. And on Piper’s side, there was nothing but trees all the way to the gravel road that led down the mountain.

She’d hear my apology, whether she wanted to or not.

As I hiked, I rehearsed my apology, perfecting it by the time I was cresting the ridge.

Hi, Piper. I’m sorry for how that played out earlier. I’ll adjust to the noise and stay out of your way. Though if you could tell them to keep it down, I’d be grateful. Thanks.

I’d shake her hand if she let me, then be on my way. Neighbors didn’t have to see each other much. I’d say sorry and keep my distance. Maybe I’d order some of those noise-canceling headphones.

I focused on the trail, pushing my body hard the last twenty feet of the steep, rocky incline, then stepped on top of the ridge, breathing easy as the trail flattened and the world opened up.

This view never failed to take my breath away.

I scanned the mountain ranges, savoring how the blue got lighter and lighter as the ranges disappeared over the horizon. Then I turned down the trail, planning to walk through the meadow a bit while I caught my breath.

But my feet stopped cold as a whimper carried across the wind.

In my same resting spot, the place where I always knelt to send up my silent words, sat Piper.

Her face was buried in her hands, and her shoulders were hunched forward, shaking violently as she cried. But I’d recognize her hair anywhere.

My hand drifted to my sternum, rubbing it hard as a deep ache settled in my chest.

Was this about me? Had I done this to her? Had I made her cry?

Son of a bitch. I was scum. I was the lowest form of filth to hurt her like this. The flimsy apology I’d practiced wouldn’t be nearly enough.

My feet shot forward, propelling me in her direction.

She must have heard or felt my boots thud on the ground, because when I was about twenty feet away, her entire body jolted. Her face snapped up with a look of pure terror. But once she recognized me, her shoulders relaxed.

There was a mixture of shock and confusion in her eyes as I got closer. The tears hadn’t stopped rolling down her cheeks. But she wasn’t afraid as I knelt by her side.

She didn’t shy away as I pulled her into my arms.

Her body was stiff for a few moments but then she melted. Her frame sank into the embrace and she burrowed her head into my neck as the sobs returned.