Juniper Hill (The Edens)
Juniper Hill: Chapter 6

“Thanks for dinner.” Griffin clapped me on the shoulder as we stood on the front porch of his house.

“Welcome.”

The macaroni and cheese I’d made Memphis last week had given me a craving, so I’d made a huge batch today with plenty to spare. Before coming to see Griff and Winn with a pan for dinner, I’d dropped one off at Mom and Dad’s place too.

“Nice night.” Griffin drew in a long breath. The scent of leaves and rain and cooler temperatures was in the air.

“Sure is.” I leaned against one of the wooden beams, glancing out across the land as I took a sip from my beer.

Surrounded by trees with the mountains in the distance, Griffin’s place was the reason I’d built my own. I’d wanted my own haven away from the bustle of town. Our styles were entirely different. Griff preferred a traditional look with an abundance of wood, while I favored the sleek, modern lines of glass.

Though our houses were different, the setting was the same.

Rugged mountain countryside. Evergreens with the year-round scent of pine. Sunshine and blue sky. Home.

A cry came from inside the house and Griffin straightened, turning toward the front door as Winn came outside with my two-month-old nephew, Hudson, fussing in her arms.

“Tag, you’re it.” She handed her son to his father. “He wants me during the day but only Griff at night.”

My brother nodded at his son. “We’ve got lots to talk about at night, don’t we, cowboy? And sometimes you just need a new set of arms.”

Hudson’s fussing ceased as my brother walked the length of the porch.

My heart twisted at the sight.

I loved Hudson. But his birth had triggered memories I’d done my best to forget these past five years. Memories that weren’t as buried as I’d once thought.

Griffin hadn’t known Gianna, nor had any of my siblings. Mom and Dad had met her once on a vacation to San Francisco, but that had been before Jadon. My family knew what had happened, but it was something I’d refused to discuss after I’d moved home.

No one knew how hard it was to be around a baby.

“Dinner was amazing.” Winn gave me a sleepy smile. “Exactly what I was craving.”

“Anytime.” I winked as she pressed a hand to her belly.

It was early in her second pregnancy, but I suspected before too long they’d all come to the restaurant more frequently. While she’d been pregnant with Hudson, I’d taken it as my personal challenge to feed my sister-in-law’s cravings.

“How are things at the restaurant?” she asked, sinking into one of the porch’s rocking chairs.

“Good. Busy.” Roxanne was running the show tonight. Wednesdays were typically slow this time of year, so when she’d told me to stop hovering and head home after lunch, I’d actually listened.

Griffin kept pacing with Hudson, murmuring words to his son that I couldn’t make out.

“It’s his voice.” Winn followed my gaze. “I think because it’s deeper. This time of night, Griff’s voice is about the only thing that will put him to sleep.”

“Makes sense.” It wasn’t always easy to see Griffin with his son, but that wasn’t something I’d admit to them. To anyone.

“You feeling okay?” I asked Winn.

“Just a little tired. But I think that will be the norm for a few years.”

Griffin strode our way. “Maybe by the time we have this next one, Hudson will sleep through the night.”

“That’s the dream.” Winn crossed her fingers. “How’s it going with Memphis?”

“All right. I don’t see her much.” And that had been by design. There was a reason that I hadn’t taken much time off lately. That I hovered at Knuckles. There was a reason that on my rare night away from the restaurant, I’d escaped to the comfort of my brother’s home and not my own.

Griffin and I had a bond formed from youthful years of hiding mischief and suffering the consequences when our parents inevitably caught us causing trouble. He’d been my best friend since birth. We knew each other better than most, which was probably why he hadn’t asked about Memphis. He could sense I didn’t want to talk about her.

What would I say? I was attracted to her. Every time she walked into the room, my heart stopped and my dick twitched. If that had been the end of the story, if it had been just a woman passing through town, I would have chased her that first night.

But she wasn’t a tourist here today, gone tomorrow. There was no escaping her, at work or at home. Then there was the kid.

Seeing Drake was harder than seeing Hudson. I wasn’t sure why but every time he cried, it cut right through my chest. Maybe it was because Memphis was dealing with it alone. She bore the brunt of his screams. She carried the weight on her slender shoulders.

But it wasn’t my business. It wasn’t my place to interfere.

I’d had enough dramatics for a lifetime and Memphis had drama written all over her pretty face.

It had taken me five years to build a life in Quincy. I’d walked away from San Francisco a broken man. I’d come home to recover. To start again. To return to a place where I’d had good days in the hope of finding them again.

Five years and I was there. I loved my job. I loved my family. I loved my life.

Unchanged.

As soon as Memphis was gone from the loft, it would be easier to put her out of my head.

I drained the last swallow of my beer as Hudson’s eyelids began to droop. “I’d better get home. Let you guys get him to bed.”

“Thanks, Knox.” Winn yawned.

“Have a good night.” I walked over, bent to kiss her cheek, then shook my brother’s free hand. I ruffled the dark hair on my nephew’s head and touched his button nose. “Give your parents some rest, kid.”

Hudson had a tiny hand over Griff’s heart.

Damn, that stung. As Hudson grew, it had dulled, but not disappeared. I let it spread through my chest, then jogged down the porch steps for my truck.

My drive home was through a maze of gravel roads. The highway was more of a direct route to home, but taking the back roads gave me time to roll down the windows and simply think.

When I’d stopped at Mom and Dad’s earlier, they’d asked me if I’d made my decision about the hotel. Uncle Briggs had had a rough week. He’d gone out for a hike without telling anyone, and though he’d probably been lucid at first, he’d had an episode and gotten lost.

Lost on the land where he’d lived his entire life.

Thankfully, Dad had found him just before dark. Briggs had tripped and twisted his ankle. So after a trip to the ER—Talia had been the doctor on call—they’d gotten Briggs home. But the scare had spurred Dad’s urgency to get my answer.

An answer I didn’t have to give.

Part of me wanted to agree, simply because it would make them happy. I had the best parents in the world. They let us fail when we needed to fail. They gave us a hand when it was clear we couldn’t get back up on our own two feet. They loved us unconditionally. They’d given us every advantage possible.

But if I said yes to the hotel, it wouldn’t be for me. It would be for them.

Did I want The Eloise? I didn’t want it to go to someone outside of the family. But me? Maybe. I just wasn’t sure. Not yet.

I reached my turnout and rolled toward Juniper Hill, disappearing through the trees to my secluded corner of the world. As the house came into view, my eyes went to the loft. Even hidden behind walls and doors and windows, Memphis drew my attention. She had since the day she’d arrived.

Her Volvo was parked beside the stairs, and that car was as much of a mystery as my tenant. It was a newer model and Volvos weren’t exactly inexpensive. So why was she surviving on cheap meals and spare change?

Not my business.

I’d flown to Gianna’s rescue all those years ago when I should have minded my own fucking business. Lesson learned.

Parking in the space closest to my door, I headed inside. Before winter, I’d have to figure out a different parking situation so both of our rigs weren’t left outside in the snow, but for now, leaving my truck outside meant one more way to keep my distance.

The house was quiet. The scent of macaroni and cheese lingered in the kitchen. I walked to the fridge, getting another beer, then retreated to the living room to watch TV until dark.

The abundance of windows meant that when the sun began to set below the crest of Juniper Hill, I caught it from all angles. Pink and orange and blue light cascaded over the walls, fading with every minute until the silver glow of moonlight took its place.

It should have been relaxing. The number one trending movie on Netflix should have kept my attention. This was supposed to be my sanctuary, yet since the day Memphis had moved in, she’d held a constant chain to my thoughts. A distraction.

Was she cooking dinner? Was she sleeping? Was the place big enough for her? Was she searching for another apartment? Did I want her to find another apartment?

Yes. She had to leave. We couldn’t do this forever, right? I needed my home back. Yet the idea of her in town, on her own, made me uneasy.

She wasn’t my responsibility. She was a grown woman, an adult, capable of living alone. She was twenty-five, the same age as Eloise. Close to the same age as Lyla and Talia, who were twenty-seven. Did I feel the need to keep my sisters close? No. So why Memphis? And where the hell were her parents? What had happened with those siblings she’d mentioned?

I stared at the TV, realizing I’d watched almost the entire thriller and hadn’t a damn clue what it was about. “Christ.”

Restlessness rattled beneath my skin. I shoved off the couch, went to my bedroom for a pair of workout shorts, then disappeared to the gym I’d set up in my basement.

After an hour spent alternating between the treadmill and the heavy bag, I climbed the stairs, drenched in sweat. Thankfully, the workout had served its purpose and my pent-up energy had burned out, so I headed to the shower.

Sleep had been scarce over the past few weeks. The last solid eight-hour stretch had been before Memphis had moved in. Drake had a set of lungs, and though I should just sleep with the windows closed, every night, I got too hot and had slept with them cracked for as long as I could remember.

Wearing only a pair of boxer briefs, I climbed into bed, killing the light on the nightstand. My head hit the pillow, and as a gentle breeze swept through the room, exhaustion won out.

But like it had for weeks, my sleep was broken by the wail of a baby boy.

I jolted awake and scrubbed a hand over my face before glancing at the clock beside my bedside lamp. Two fourteen.

He’d slept longer than normal. This past week he’d woken me up around one. Or maybe he’d been up for an hour and I’d just been too tired to notice.

I buried my face in the pillow, willing sleep to come again. But as the crying continued, echoing through the dark night, I knew I’d be awake until he stopped.

“Fuck.”

That kid was determined, I’d give him that. As I lay on my back, staring at the moonlit ceiling, he cried and cried.

If it was loud here, how loud was it in that loft? I hadn’t slept, but neither had Memphis. Though she tried daily, no amount of makeup could hide the dark circles under her eyes.

The image of Griffin holding Hudson popped into my mind. Then another baby, another set of arms from years past. A scene I didn’t let myself remember.

Drake’s cries built, one upon the next upon the next, louder and louder, minute after minute, night after night, until it was like he was screaming for me. Enough was enough. I couldn’t lie here and do nothing.

I flung the sheet off my legs and swung out of bed, stopping at the walk-in closet for a T-shirt. Then I headed for the door, pausing to step into a pair of flip-flops so I didn’t shred the soles of my feet on the gravel.

The night air was cool against the bare skin of my arms and legs as I crossed the driveway. I took the stairs two at a time, moving before I second-guessed my decision, and knocked.

A light flipped on, illuminating the glass window in the door.

Memphis’s face was in the glass next, her brown eyes wide and swimming with tears. She looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful. Except tonight she looked to be hanging on by her last thread.

She wiped at her cheeks before flipping the lock. “I’m so—”

“Don’t apologize.” I stepped inside and kicked off my shoes, then held out my arms, waving with one. “Hand him over.”

“W-what?” She shied away, putting a shoulder between me and her baby.

“I’m not going to hurt him. I just want to help.” Maybe what that kid needed was another pair of arms. Another voice.

She blinked. “Huh?”

“Listen, if he sleeps, I sleep, you sleep. Can we just . . . try something other than this? Let me walk him around for a while. Probably won’t matter but at the very least, you can take a breather.”

Memphis’s shoulders fell and she glanced down at her crying son. “He doesn’t know you.”

“There’s only one way to fix that.”

She hesitated another moment, but when Drake let out another wail and kicked his tiny feet, she shifted my way.

The handoff was awkward. Her arms seemed reluctant to let him go, but finally, when I had him cradled in the crook of an elbow, she inched away. Her shoulders remained stiff as she wrapped her arms around her middle and barely gave me enough room to breathe.

“I won’t drop him,” I promised.

She nodded.

I stepped past her, walking the length of the loft. My bare feet sank into the plush carpet, and it wasn’t until I’d made it across the room that I finally took a good look at the kid in my arms.

Christ, this was a bad idea. A really fucking bad idea. What the hell had I been thinking? He kept crying, because yeah, he didn’t know me. And it was too similar. It was too hard.

The only thing that kept me from bolting was his hair.

He had his mother’s blond hair.

Not black, like Jadon’s. Blond.

This was not the same child. This was not the same situation.

I swallowed hard, past the ache, and walked toward the door. “Drake.”

Blond, baby Drake. It was a great name. He was a solid kid. That was different too. Drake seemed strong. Like Hudson, he had a good weight. And Memphis had been hefting him around on her own every night.

“All right, boss,” I told Drake. “We need to tone this down.”

His chest shook as his breath hitched between a cry.

“I need sleep. So do you. So does your mom. How about we quit the night shift?” I set out for the opposite end of the room again, passing Memphis, who still hadn’t moved. I hit the wall and turned, going to the door again. All while Drake cried. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the Find ɴøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“You’re okay.” I bounced him as I walked, patting his diapered butt. He was in a pair of footed pajamas, the blue print fabric full of puppies. “When I was a kid, I had a dog. Her name was Scout.”

I kept walking, slow and measured strides, to the door, then the window. “She was brown with floppy ears and a stubby tail. Her favorite thing in the summer was to run through the yard sprinklers. And in the winter, she’d jump in the biggest snowbanks, burying herself so far down we weren’t sure she’d make it out.”

Memphis finally unstuck her feet and walked to the couch, perching on an arm. She was in a thin black night shirt with sleeves that draped to her elbows and a neckline that scooped low. The hem ended at her thighs, riding up as she sat.

She wasn’t tall, but damn she had some legs. I tore my eyes away from the taut, smooth skin and shifted Drake so he was propped up on a shoulder. Then I patted his back, my hand so long that the base of my palm was at the top of his diaper and my fingertips brushing the soft strands of hair at his nape.

It took one more trip to the door and back before the crying changed to whimpers. Then it vanished, swept away through an open window.

The quiet was deafening.

Memphis gasped. “It usually takes me hours.”

“My brother Griffin has a kid this age.”

“He’s married to Winslow, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I was over there tonight and Hudson was not about his mom. But Griffin took him and it settled him down. Probably just a different voice.”

Memphis dropped her chin, her blond hair falling around her face. But it couldn’t hide the tear that dripped to her lap.

“Do you need me to carry you around too? Pat your back? Tell you about my childhood pets?” I teased.

She looked up and smiled, wiping her face dry. “I’m just really tired.”

Drake let out a squawk but didn’t start wailing again.

“I can take him,” she said.

“Go lie down. I’ll walk him until he’s asleep.”

“You don’t—”

“Have to do that.” I finished her sentence. “But I’m going to. Go. Rest.”

She stood and trudged to the bed, sliding beneath the covers. Then she clung to a pillow, holding it close to her chest. “How did you become a chef?”

“That’s not sleeping.”

“Tell me anyway.”

I walked to the wall and hit the light switch, bathing the loft in darkness. “My mom is a fantastic cook. When I was growing up, my dad was always so busy on the ranch. He’d take Griff with him a lot but I was too young, so I’d stay home with Mom and my twin sisters when they were babies. She’d cart us to the hotel with her during the day, and then in the evenings, she’d put them in swings or a play area and set me on the counter to help make dinner.”

My earliest memory was from when I was around five, the summer before I’d started kindergarten. Mom had been pregnant with Eloise. The twins had been little and were always chasing me around. Griff had been learning to ride and I’d felt left out.

Mom had been busy with something so I’d told her I’d make dinner. She must have thought I was kidding because she’d agreed.

It wasn’t so much the plates of chips and crackers that I remembered, it was the shock on her face when she’d come into the kitchen from wrangling the twins and found me sitting on the counter, attempting peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

“I had other interests. Sports. Horses. I spent my summers working on the ranch beside Griffin and Dad. But I always gravitated back to the kitchen. When I finished high school, I knew college wasn’t for me, so I enrolled in culinary school. Learned a lot. Worked at some amazing restaurants until it was time to come home.”

Memphis hummed, a dreamy, sleepy sound.

And her son was totally out on my chest.

It was probably safe to put him down, retreat to my own bed, but I kept walking. Just in case.

“Why is it named Knuckles? The restaurant?” Memphis’s voice was no more than a whisper, muffled by the pillow.

“It was my nickname in culinary school. My first week I tried to impress an instructor. Got cocky. I was grating some carrots and not paying attention. Slipped and grated my knuckles instead.”

“Ouch,” she hissed.

“Had a bunch of cuts and made a fool of myself.” A few scars still remained on my hand.

“And earned yourself a nickname.”

“When we did the restaurant remodel, I sat down with the architect and he asked me about a name for a sign. Knuckles popped into my head and that was it.” I drifted off my path and carried Drake to the crib in the corner, bending low to set him down.

His arms instantly rose above his head. His lips parted. His eyelashes formed half-moons above his smooth cheeks. He was . . . precious.

My hand came to my chest, rubbing at the sting. Then I stood and glanced to the bed.

Memphis was asleep, her lips parted too. A man could lose himself in that sort of beauty.

Before I did something stupid, like stand there and stare at her until dawn, I eased out of the loft, turning the lock on the door behind me before heading to my own bed.

Sleep should have come easy. It was quiet. Dark. Except every time I closed my eyes, the image of Memphis would pop into my head. The blond hair sweeping across her cheek. The part of her lips. The soft swell of her breasts beneath that night shirt.

Maybe her kid’s crying hadn’t been keeping me from sleep.

Maybe it was the woman herself, haunting my dreams.

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