Sable Peak (The Edens)
Sable Peak: Part 1 – Chapter 8

Uncle Vance was happier than I’d ever seen him.

He spun Lyla in a slow circle as they danced together as husband and wife. The hem of her strapless lace gown skimmed the temporary floor Griffin and Mateo had installed in the barn.

True love. That was the name of the smile they shared.

He’d earned this happiness and more.

Vance had done everything in his power to help me in the past year. He’d handled all of the logistics to bring me back from the presumed dead. He’d helped me get a reinstated social security card and a driver’s license. When I’d needed a checking account and credit card, he’d taken me to the bank. And when I’d asked him to leave Idaho for Montana, he’d agreed without hesitation. Granted, that was mostly because of Lyla, but partly for me too.

He’d lied for me.

He’d lied to the police and to the media. He’d invented a story that meant I could have a life and Dad could remain free.

It had been Vance’s idea to tell the authorities that I’d left Dad. That it had been my choice to escape. And when I’d broken free from my father’s clutches, I’d run to our family’s closest friend.

Uncle Vance.

He hated lying, but he’d done it for me. For that, I’d be forever grateful.

Almost everything else we’d told the FBI and police was true. Or a version of the truth.

Dad had taken me that night. The night they’d died. He’d killed my mother. And for four years, we’d lived off the grid. Did I know where Dad was now? No.

I wished that last truth was a lie. I wished I had my father. That he could be here to see Vance on his happiest of days. That we could dance and be a family again.

Sometimes, it stung to be so happy when I was surrounded by Edens. They’d pulled me into their fold, embraced me into their family, and I was grateful for their love.

And felt guilty for it, all at the same time.

Because while I was living with this large, chaotic, happy family, Dad was alone.

Yes, he’d insisted I go with Uncle Vance. He hadn’t wanted me to live on the run forever. But maybe that decision had been too hasty. Maybe we should have talked through it more. Maybe I should have stuck it out for a few more years until we’d come up with a plan to meet from time to time. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the ꜰindNʘvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Instead, I’d just left. He had no one to talk to. No one to care for. No one to make sure he was all right.

I’d left him.

The guilt gnawed, but even as it crawled through my veins, I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this wedding.

It was magical.

The barn had been transformed over the past two weeks. Lighted strings hung from the rafters and beams. Tables and chairs covered with crisp white linens filled most of the space. The dance floor at the far end of the building was positioned in front of a stage where a live band was playing a slow country song.

The Edens had gone all out. Somehow, they’d even managed to erase the smell of animals and hay. Roses and lilies and draping greenery hung from the posts. Along with the luscious bouquets on each table, they filled the barn with a sweet scent.

Smiling guests sipped champagne. Laughter and conversation mingled with the music. A group of kids clustered in the center of the dance floor as adults skirted around them.

I watched from my seat at the Edens’ table. I’d told Uncle Vance it was fine to put me anywhere, but he’d insisted I sit with family. Not even Vance’s sisters and parents had been gifted this table. Instead, they’d gotten their own a couple rows over.

“Want to dance?” Foster stood from his chair across from mine.

I waited for Talia to stand from her seat beside his, but then he extended his hand my direction.

“Me?” I pointed to my chest.

He grinned. “Yeah. What do you say? Fair warning, Talia says I’m a hopeless dancer.”

“It’s true.” She smiled up at her husband. “Though last night we were dancing in the kitchen and he only stepped on my foot once.”

“Not exactly selling me on this dance,” I teased and stood.

Foster chuckled and bent to brush a kiss to Talia’s forehead. Then he waited for me to round the table and held out an elbow to escort me toward the stage. “Having fun?”

“I am.” I nodded, searching the crowd on the dance floor.

Vance and Lyla were still together, locked in a quiet conversation as they moved. The world beyond their bubble didn’t exist. Mateo was close, dancing with Anne.

As one of the groomsmen, he was in a tux tonight. So was Foster. And I was dressed in a black satin gown and strappy heeled sandals, just like the rest of Lyla’s bridesmaids.

My hair had been curled and pinned into an elaborate updo at the Quincy salon this morning. I hadn’t worn this much makeup since my last high-school prom. But I felt pretty.

It had been a long time since I’d felt pretty.

Foster spun me into his arms and began to sway. It was on the fourth count that his foot landed on my toes. “Damn it. Sorry.”

“You did warn me.” I giggled. “Don’t worry. I have tough feet.”

“That, and you’re a brave soul, Vera.”

He’d told me the same when I’d offered to let his eight-year-old daughter, Kadence, paint my nails last weekend at the coffee shop. Kaddie was a doll but not exactly the steadiest hand with the nail polish brush. It had taken a solid soak in acetone to remove the rainbow shades from my cuticles.

Foster and Talia were regulars at Eden Coffee. I saw them nearly as much as Anne and Harrison. Probably because Talia and Lyla were close as twins.

My sisters had been that way too. Before.

Talia took Fridays off from working as a doctor at the hospital to spend them with their eight-month-old son, Jude, and she’d bring him in for a lunchtime visit. Foster would bring Kaddie in after school some days for a daddy-daughter date. And at least once a month, he would come in to buy Talia’s favorite cookie to take to her while she was at work.

All of the men in the Eden family adored their wives, but there was something special about the way Foster looked at Talia. Like she was the very reason he breathed.

Dad used to look at her that way.

“Ooof.” I let out a grunt as Foster’s foot crunched mine again. The French pedicure I’d gotten this morning wasn’t going to survive this dance.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Vera.”

“It’s o—”

“I think you’d better let me cut in.” Anne appeared at our sides, pointing to her closed-toe pumps.

“I think maybe that’s a good idea.” Foster gave me an apologetic frown. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Really.” But before I could leave the dance floor and retreat to my chair, a large hand appeared in front of me. A hand belonging to the man I’d been stealing chaste glances of all night.

“May I?” Mateo asked.

“Sure.” My voice was as wobbly as my knees. This dance was going to be a disaster, but I took Mateo’s hand, his palm warm and calloused and big enough to envelop mine.

It was the first time we’d touched.

He probably had no idea. Why would he keep track?

But I remembered. We’d never hugged. We’d never shaken hands. We’d never so much as accidentally bumped into each other.

I drew in a shaky breath as he stepped close, his hand coming to my hip. It was a stretch to put my hand on his shoulder. God, he was tall. I tilted up my chin to keep his gaze as his spicy cologne filled my nose. Leather and spice. Wind and earth.

This was just a dance. Just. A. Dance. Breathe.

“Having a good time?” he asked as we moved with the music.

“Yep,” I squeaked.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke. How had I never really noticed that before? Maybe because I’d been so fixed on his face and arms and legs and ass. But damn that Adam’s apple. It was just so … manly. So different from the boys I’d crushed on in high school who’d barely crested puberty.

“Are you? Having fun?” I asked.

“I like weddings.” He nodded. “But I love wedding cake. I’ve already had four pieces.”

“Four?”

“There’s a chance I’ll go into a sugar coma soon.”

“I promise to bring Alaina to visit your body in the hospital.”

A low, deep chuckle escaped his chest. Again, that Adam’s apple moved.

Never in my life had I wanted to lick a man’s throat. Until now.

Heat crept into my face so I dropped my chin, staring at a pearl button on his shirt. “Where is Allie?”

“At the house with the babysitters. Hopefully asleep, but I’m not holding my breath.”

Anne had wanted all of her children to enjoy the wedding, so she’d hired two babysitters to come to the ranch and watch the little ones so their parents could have a night off.

“You look pretty tonight.”

This was the best wedding of my life. “Thanks.”

He didn’t mean it as an advance. It wasn’t a pickup line or attempt to woo me into his bed. Mateo’s compliment sounded a lot like those I’d gotten from Griffin and Knox and Jasper.

Still, it was impossible to hide my smile. I tried anyway, ducking my chin so low that I had the perfect view of my stiletto heel landing on Mateo’s foot.

He grunted.

I gasped. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all good.”

“Sorry.”

What the hell was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just relax around Mateo? I was a confident woman. I was coordinated. But when Mateo was around, I became this clumsy, shy girl.

She was pissing me off.

Dad and I used to dance. We didn’t have music but there would be nights when he’d spin me around our campfire, humming a tune to the stars. Not once had I stepped on his foot. Not once.

Foster’s hopeless dancing skills had rubbed off.

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Sorry.”

“Vera, it’s fine. Stop apologizing.” His grip on my waist tightened. “Doesn’t even hurt.”

He might be uninjured but my pride was running through a meat grinder. Before I recovered, the song was over. Time to sneak upstairs to the loft, bury my face in a pillow and cry.

“Would you dance with me again?” he asked.

“Oh.” My. God. Yes. A thousand times yes.

Except before I could say one of those yesses, Vance’s voice was at my back. “My turn.”

No. Damn it.

Mateo let me go and took a step away. Then he held up his hands in surrender so Vance could step in. “Thanks for the dance, Vera.”

I sighed. “Sure.”

He tapped me on the shoulder, then weaved through the crowd toward the cake table.

My skin tingled from where he’d touched me.

No, not touched. Patted. He’d patted my shoulder.

Like he’d do to a friend. Or a sister.

He saw me as a sister, didn’t he? The Edens had embraced me fully, and I was an honorary member of the family.

Would Mateo ever touch me the way I wanted to be touched? Would he ever kiss me?

Not if he saw me as a sister. As just a friend.

My heart sank to my scuffed toenails as Vance pulled me close. And later that night, when I disappeared into the loft after the wedding, instead of crying into my pillow, I screamed.

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