Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 38335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
The thought has me thinking back to the legend and the tragic story of Duke and Amelia.
“Your thoughts are so loud I can barely hear my own,” Mike murmurs, amusement coating his tone. “Care to share?”
Smiling, I prop my chin atop his chest, admiring the way the orange flames cast shadows across his handsome face.
“I was just thinking about the first time we met and what an asshole you were.”
He chuckles at the half-truth. “I was an asshole.”
“Yeah, but at least you were a hot asshole,” I tease.
His gaze holds mine as he sweeps a piece of hair out of my face in a heart-touching gesture. “I didn’t like the way this complete stranger had the power to make me feel things I’d never felt before.”
My breath stalls in my chest, the admission holding me captive.
He felt it too, even then.
“Even when she came flying out of her car, tripping over her goddamn shoelaces, and almost face-planted.”
A burst of laughter escapes me before I drop my face onto his chest with a groan, the shame I felt at that moment still fully intact.
“And yet, I still thought she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”
His words echo through me like a steel drum, crashing against the walls of my heart. My face lifts back to his to see the truth of those words mirrored back at me.
“What if it was the mountain?” I whisper before I can think better of it.
His brows furrow in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“What if us meeting that day was somehow caused by that mountain? What if there’s some truth to the legend after all.”
He peers back at me like I’ve lost my mind. “That’s not possible, Hollis. It’s just folklore. A tale. It’s not real.”
“How do you know for sure?” I counter. “Have you ever kissed anyone on that mountain before?”
“Not until tonight,” he admits, giving me a generous slap on the ass. “Guess we’ll find out.”
A giggle escapes me before it softens into a smile. “You have to admit there are a lot of coincidences that followed the first meet. Poppy and then Ellie. Don’t you think it’s the least bit possible that there’s some truth to the legend?”
“No, because as we already established, I don’t believe in magic.”
“Do you believe in love?” I ask.
He tenses at the question.
“Easy, Cross. I’m not looking for a ring,” I chuckle. “I’m just asking since we’re on the subject.”
He cocks a brow. “I thought we were talking about magic and mountains.”
I shrug. “Love is magical.”
Silence stretches on, and I figure I’m not going to get an answer to that question until he surprises me a moment later. “I never used to, but now I think it’s possible.”
I find myself intrigued by that response. “What changed your mind?”
“Poppy,” he answers, unfaltering. “I never knew love until she came along. I figure if that kind exists, then I’m sure there are other forms of it out there.”
That response is as sweet as it is heartbreaking. To know he never knew love until her truly saddens me. It leads me to my next question a bit more cautiously.
“Can I ask you something?”
By his expression, he already knows where this is going. “You want to know why she’s with me.”
It’s a statement, not a question, but I find myself nodding anyway. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Especially if it hurts you to talk about.”
The last thing I want is to cause him any pain. It’s obvious he has been through enough of it in his life.
“It doesn’t hurt me. It pisses me off,” he exclaims, unable to keep that anger out of his tone. “But I’ll tell you. You have a right to know.”
I remain quiet and still, grateful for his trust in me.
“To make a long story short, our mother is an addict,” he says, putting it bluntly. “She has been for most of my life but managed to get clean when she found out she was pregnant with Poppy. I had a feeling it wouldn’t last, but she went to rehab, moved into the city, got a job, and did quite well for herself for a few years. I thought she had proven me wrong…”
“But she didn’t,” I finish sadly.
“She didn’t,” he confirms with a nod. “She made it almost six years before she fell back into old habits and put my sister’s life in jeopardy.” His jaw hardens, his anger becoming more prominent than ever. “Poppy was only five years old when she called me in the middle of the night, crying that she was hungry and scared because our mother said she would come back but hadn’t yet.”
Pain swells in my chest to think about a younger Poppy so vulnerable.
“That’s when I found out she had been alone in that apartment for two goddamn days while our mother was out getting high.”