Page 15 of On the Mountain

Didn’t want him to stop.

Crow fingered a lock of my hair next, rubbing it between his index finger and his thumb. I trembled when his large, warm hand went back to my cheek. I couldn’t stop myself from leaning into it, nuzzling into him, because this touch felt so fucking different from anything I’d felt before—like he was in awe of me, like he was cherishing me and taking care of me. Like he didn’t feel worthy of me, and that was fucking crazy because I wasn’t shit. There wasn’t and had never been anything special about me.

“Crow,” whispered past my lips, my stupid decision breaking the moment and making him pull back. With a sigh, I turned off the water. “I can walk,” I snapped when he tried to pick me up. God, what was wrong with me? I was hurt because this man I didn’t know didn’t want me? That he’d stopped touching me?

For the first time, Crow listened. He kept close as I limped toward the living room, and when I almost stumbled into the wall, he stopped me and slowly put his arm around me as if asking my permission.

I nodded because I didn’t want to fall. When we got back into the living room, I leaned against the back of the couch, staring off into the kitchen area while he grabbed my shoes and socks, placing the ones I wouldn’t need in the backpack I’d brought with me. He nodded for me to sit on the arm of the couch, and I did, not letting myself look at him while he put my sock and shoe on my good foot. His fingers brushed against the bandage on the other, but I didn’t tremble this time, didn’t feel much of anything, if I was being honest.

He tried to put his arm around me again, and I stiffened, though I wanted Crow’s hands on me. He pulled back, gave me a look that said not to move, then disappeared into the hallway.

He’d left me alone.

What was he doing?

Seconds later, he came out with a pair of crutches that would have been really fucking convenient to have earlier. “Oh, now you bring these out?”

He shrugged and sized them correctly for me, then handed them over.

Crow took the bags and followed me outside. The sun was bright up here, but the trees did a great job of offering shade.

I took in the grounds in a way I couldn’t last night—Crow’s large cabin, a barn, and another building, wood he was clearly cutting, large gardens filled with vegetables, and flowers planted everywhere. There was a greenhouse too. It was like his own world. “It’s incredible,” I whispered, unable to hold the words back, but instead of replying, he just nudged me on my way. Again, it stung.

I started down the gravel road, but he stopped me and nodded toward his truck. Oh, that made sense. Easier than hopping all the way to my car.

The drive was quiet except for the sounds of the engine and gravel crunching beneath the tires. When we got to the gate, Crow got out to press the code in to open it. Had he done all this on his own? Was it even possible to do all this on his own? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

He came back to me, opened my door, and helped me out.

“I can handle it from here.”

He ignored me, walking with me to my car.

I got in, tried to hand him back the crutches, but he shook his head.

“You should keep them,” I told him. “I’m sure you have them in case anything happens to you out here.”

He just put them in the back seat.

I waited, wishing he would say something, needing words from him again, needing fucking something, but only silence and Crow’s now detached brown gaze met me.

I closed the door, started the car, and pulled away. When I glanced in the rearview mirror, he was already gone.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Crow

Me: Tonight. Eight o’clock.

Bruce: You know I always have room in my schedule for you.

He ended the text with a smiley-face emoji. I would never understand using those. I had never used one myself, and as big of an asshole as it made me, I had to fight myself not to let things like that annoy me.

Bruce was easy. I’d found him online, and we always met at a hotel outside Tranquility, where he’d take my dick, then my money, and didn’t require words or anything else from me. And ever since Cyrus left yesterday, I was on edge and needed to fuck.

I could smell Cyrus in my home, smell his sugar and musk on my couch, and I’d sat there, sniffing the cushion while jerking off, but it didn’t take the edge off.

I had never wanted inside someone as much as I wanted inside him.