by Devney Perry
“Piper,” I corrected.
He grumbled something into the phone, chasing away the softness in his voice. “I can’t believe this is where we are. You’ve thrown everything away because of a kiss.”
“Me?” Rage ran through my veins, burning away the guilt. “You did this. Not me. You threw us all away when you kissed another woman.”
“She was a costar.”
I shot off the bed. “Were you on set? Were you rehearsing? Because as I recall, you were out to dinner with her at my favorite restaurant and got caught kissing her in a back booth by an overeager fan with a selfie stick.”
The fan had snapped the photo with herself in one corner and Adam and his costar in the other. They hadn’t noticed with their mouths fused. A herd of elephants could have trampled the restaurant to the ground and they would have been found in the rubble with their lips still locked.
As Adam’s Number One Fan, I’d stalked his social media accounts regularly, never wanting to miss someone bragging about my husband or overlook a picture a fan would post of him signing an autograph.
That was how I found out my husband was having an affair. Via Instagram.
And it had shattered my already broken heart.
“I’m sorry,” Adam whispered. “For the millionth time, I’m sorry. It meant nothing. It was one kiss.”
“And that is what you still don’t understand. It was one kiss.”
I knew that when I’d started dating Adam, he’d often be physical with other women during his performances. I’d sat front row at his first college play, and when he’d kissed his costar, I’d about fainted. It had taken me a week to decide if I could handle it.
But even as a freshman in college, I’d decided he was worth it. I’d learned to compartmentalize that part of his job. It wasn’t my Adam with another woman, it was his character. In my mind, they were two completely separate human beings.
Except the kiss in the restaurant wasn’t him playing a character. It was him. My husband. The man who’d vowed to stick with me through good and bad had shared something intimate with another woman.
And he’d done it a week after we’d found out that I couldn’t bear his children.
The photograph of them together was burned in my brain. It kept company with a slew of images I’d conjured of the pair together, all of them naked in bed.
“Did you sleep with her?”
“No,” he insisted. “I’ve told you that over and over. It was just that kiss.”
Yet I still asked because the pit in my stomach screamed there was more to his story. “It doesn’t matter. The kiss was enough.”
“This isn’t all my fault,” Adam declared. “You weren’t the only one devastated by the doctor’s news. That was a game changer because I wanted kids too.”
I flinched. Not once had Adam held my infertility against me. But here he was, taking my greatest insecurity and using it to justify his infidelity.
So for the first time in my life, I hung up on Adam Hall.
It hurt knowing I’d let Adam down. It hurt knowing I was unable to give him a family. It hurt knowing that someone I’d once loved with my entire being was in pain.
But he’d kissed that woman. Instead of dealing with our problems, he’d found solace with another.
This is not my fault.
Yet here I was, suffocating with guilt.
The air in the camper was too thick, so I stepped into some tennis shoes, not bothering with socks, and rushed for the door. The minute I burst outside, my lungs filled with the May mountain air and my legs took off.
I took the trail to the ridge at a near sprint but slowed to a jog as my thighs protested the steep incline. About halfway up, my throat was on fire and I tasted blood. But I refused to give in to the pain and pushed on, hiking faster and higher. I tripped on an errant rock and again on a fallen branch, but I didn’t stop.
I climbed until the trees broke and the world opened.
And then, I walked to the same place in the meadow where Kaine had once sat and dropped to my knees.
Then I let it all go.
“What the fuck was I thinking?” I muttered to myself, not for the first time since I’d come home from Piper’s camper.
I ran a hand through my hair. It was still damp from my second cold shower, but with the way my dick was filling out my boxer briefs, I’d be due for another in five minutes.
I’d gone years without the desire for a woman. My hand and I had gotten along just fine. But now that my dick remembered how it felt to be inside a woman, I couldn’t get the damn thing to soften. Piper’s face popped into my mind every few minutes, and each time, blood would rush to my cock.
“Goddamn it.” I made an adjustment. “Knock it the fuck off already.”
I really had lost my damn mind. I’d been talking to my cock for the last hour like it was a person. Not that it was listening.
Since the showers hadn’t worked to cool me down, I walked out of my bedroom and toward the front door. Maybe a hike and some fresh air would burn off my pent-up energy and help me regain control of my body. My arms felt restless and my legs itched for some exertion, so I went outside, refusing to glance at Piper’s camper as my long strides took me up the mountain trail.
What the fuck was I thinking?
Instead of saying my piece and leaving my new neighbor alone like any sane man would do, I’d kissed her. I’d turned into some kind of hormone-driven maniac, attacking her with my mouth and tongue. Then I’d fucked her, hard and fast, without so much as a thank-you on my way out the door.
The son my mother had raised was truly gone. She’d be appalled to learn how I’d treated a woman. Though I was sure my actions had been appalling Mom for the last three years, so maybe today’s actions wouldn’t be as shocking as they seemed.
Guilt settled heavy in my gut. I was ashamed of the way I’d run out of Piper’s camper like a coward, but oddly enough, I didn’t regret being with her.
Sex with Piper had been phenomenal. The best I’d ever had, edging out the one time in my early twenties when I’d hooked up with a couple of girls who’d been eager to experiment. Just thinking about the way she’d clenched around me as she’d come had me rock-hard again.
I picked up the pace on the trail, chasing away the images of her beautiful face. By the time I hit the junction where her trail and mine merged into one, I’d broken a sweat and my body felt more like my own.
Had Piper ever come up this trail? I’d been the only one to hike up this ridge for so long, I considered it my own. Would we run into each other in the woods? As long as it wasn’t soon, I’d deal with the company. I needed at least a few weeks, maybe months, until I was ready to see her again.
The image of her face seemed to be permanently stuck in my brain as it was.
Her construction crew could make all the noise they wanted. She could light that house of hers on fire and I’d steer clear. No matter what happened on her side of the property line, I’d be staying on the other.
After today’s hike, I’d be sticking close to home, where it was safe.
The air was chilly beneath the trees and cooled the drops of sweat as they beaded on my temples. I preferred hiking in the spring when the grasses were neon green and the wildflowers were in bloom. During the summer months, I tended to cut back on expeditions, especially since the last couple we’d been plagued with smoke from forest fires.
But when the weather turned, the autumn breeze would beckon me outdoors to watch the leaves change and the animals prepare for winter.
In the time I’d lived here, I’d hiked all over this area, exploring my own property as well as the national park land at my far border. Walking through these woods, breathing in the mountain air and listening to nature’s symphony had become a coping mechanism to deal with stress and pain. That, and working in my shop.
Three years ago, I’d traded family for towering evergreens. I didn’t need friends when I had the raw earth to keep me company.
<
br /> So I’d thought.
I was questioning my choices now that I seemed to have forgotten the norms of social conduct. Normal men didn’t kiss their sexy neighbor just because she gave them sass. Normal men didn’t haul a stranger into a tricked-out Airstream to fuck her on the couch. Normal men didn’t run away from a woman ten seconds after coming inside her body.
“Fuck.” My curse bounced off the nearby trees.
I looked down to the bulge behind my zipper. This is all your fault.
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.
My arms were tense, unsure of how tightly I should hold her. The last crying woman I’d held had been my mother. The memory of Mom, clinging to my arms in the hospital, rushed into my head, and I nearly dropped Piper on the ground.
What was I doing? I didn’t want personal attachments. My mind screamed to let her go, but my arms refused to listen.
Let her go.
I hugged her tighter.
Her sobs were full of such pain, I wanted to take it away. I wanted to meld it into my own. I kept so much inside of me already, what was a little more?
I shifted off my knees, sitting on the ground so I could pull her into my lap and rest my cheek on the top of her hair. Then we sat together, her clinging to me, me clutching her until she’d cried it all out.
“You okay?”
“Oh my god. I’m so sorry.” She leaned away from my chest, swiping at her eyes. Even with red eyes and blotches on her face, she was stunning.
“It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not. I got slobber on your shirt.” Embarrassment flushed her cheeks as she dabbed the wet spot over my heart.
“It’s fine.” I trapped her hand under mine, but she refused to look at me.
I bent my head, trying to catch her gaze. When it finally flickered to mine, I gave her a small smile. At least, I think it was a smile. I hadn’t done much of that in three years either. Even just a small uplift at the corners felt strange.
She shook her head, pushing away from me to stand. “You must think I’m crazy.”
“I don’t.” But since I was crazy myself, what the hell did I know?
I stood too, watching as she brushed the grass and dirt from her black leggings. They accentuated every luscious curve of her ass and legs, and I shoved my hands into my pockets to keep them away.
“I’m a mess,” she muttered.
“No, this is on me. I’m sorry. The way I ran out on you was, well, I’m an asshole. For all of it. Coming over. Getting pissed at you. The, um . . . kiss. I didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t come over expecting, uh . . . sex.”
This was the worst damn apology in the history of mankind. What happened to the mediocre one I’d just memorized? Jesus. Sum it up already. “I’m just . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
Piper gave me a sideways glance, then shut me up with a smile.
My heart skipped and my hand went back to my sternum. She was as beautiful as she was dangerous. Just minutes around her and I was unbalanced. When was the last time a woman had made my heart skip?
“Don’t worry.” Piper laughed. “You aren’t the reason I was crying.”
“I’m not?”
She shook her head. “No, those tears belonged to someone else. What happened between us earlier was the craziest thing I’ve done in a long, long time, but I’m not upset about it. I don’t regret it.”
“I don’t either.”
“Are you sure? Because the way you bolted out the door makes me think otherwise.”
“I’m sure.” As much as it was messing with my head, as much as she was throwing me off-center, that was the best time I’d had in years.
She smiled wider, enough to get the dimples. “Can I confess something?”
“Uh, okay?”
She turned away and spoke to the mountains in the distance. “That first day when we met, when I came to your cabin, I’d been up here earlier. My friend and I hiked up here to check out the rid
ge. I think my realtor thought it would sell me on the place, which it did.”
I took in the view. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yes, it is,” she said. “I saw you up here, in this spot. You were kneeling here.”
The muscles in my shoulders went rigid as a flurry of feelings swirled in my head. I was ashamed that she’d seen me at my most vulnerable moment. I was angry that she’d intruded on something not meant for anyone to see. I was relieved that it was her who had seen me and not someone else.
In the end, relief drowned out the other two. Huh. I would have put money on anger.
“Were you praying?” she asked.
“No.”
I didn’t pray. Not anymore.
I waited for the inevitable question. Then what were you doing? But it never came. Piper stood quietly, staring off into the distance, satisfied with my one-word answer.
Another strange sensation rolled over me. The short answer might have appeased her, but it didn’t sit well in my gut.
“I was talking to a ghost.”
Her face tilted up to study my profile. “A ghost?”
I nodded but kept my eyes on a bird circling a tree in the distance. Eye contact would reveal too much. “A ghost.”
I came up here and talked to the precious spirit somewhere in the heavens. I told her the things I hadn’t been able to during her short life.
All because of him.
Three years later and I still went into a rage when I pictured his face. When I thought about all he’d taken from me with his betrayal. The anger burned my throat as fire spread through my veins. My hands ached for something to throw or squeeze or punch.
Piper was standing too close and I took a step away, not trusting myself with this much fury building inside. But just as I was about to take another step back and head down the trail, to disappear into the forest with punishing footsteps, her voice rang through the blood rushing in my ears.
“I’m Piper Campbell.”
The red cleared from my vision. “What?”
