Page 29 of We Drank the Dawn

So I slowly snaked my arm around his ribcage and laced my leg over his. Squeezing, I pulled closer and closed my eyes, drawing in the scent of his neck—my favorite scent in the whole world. Under the covers, his hand moved toward me.

My heart lurched with anticipation.

But he settled it on his stomach, tensing as I pressed my lips to his jaw.

Peter, for all the wonderful and terrible things he was, was just a man. Didn’t he miss kissing me? Sleeping with me? Holding me? Laughing together in the dark? How had he gone so long without those things? I was barely hanging on. So thirsty I was practically hallucinating.

I murmured into his neck. “When was the last time we got lost in a kiss?”

He swallowed but didn’t respond.

“I can’t remember.” My words came out with a quiet groan.

He gave a thin chuckle. “You said you weren’t expecting romance.”

I dipped my legs further between his, shifting up onto his chest. “Well, I changed my mind.”

The grinding hum of the AC filled the few beats of silence between us. Then I leaned forward, brushing my lips over his. Wet strands of my hair fell around my face as I willed his fingers to tangle in my roots. Willed his hips to rock beneath mine. Willed his hands to travel beneath my clothes.

But he wasn’t doing anything.

Gently, I tried to coax his mouth to open but he didn’t budge.

He wasn’t kissing me back at all. He didn’t move to touch me, tilt his head, or even breathe for that matter. Tears stung my nose as I pulled away. And when I looked down into his face, I saw something that terrified me far more than the vacancy that typically resided there.

Anger.

His eyelids wrinkled at the corners, his jaw set, his body stiff and unyielding.

I smothered a cry at the back of my throat as my muscles tensed with the urge to slap him.

The conversation Peter and I had in the car filled my memory, slicing my heart with panic.

“This might be all we ever have.”

“I can’t afford to think like that.”

“You can’t afford not to.”

Embarrassed, I rolled off of him, my belly as hollow as a rotting tree.

I couldn’t continue like this.

The heartbreak would eventually kill me.

Or based on how dead I felt inside, maybe it already had.

My internal clock forced me awake at 5 a.m. I was used to waking up early for work. And I was not used to getting a solid eight hours of sleep. The combo had me bright-eyed and bushy tailed way before sunrise. For a while, I tossed and turned, trying to go back to sleep, but at 5:20-ish I gave up and slipped on a long sleeve t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

Hollie had said we were welcome to join the cowboys for breakfast if we wanted. And I realized I did very much want a cup of coffee—if for no other reason than to escape the fifth wheel.

I tip-toed down the metal steps until I stood beneath the star lit sky. Gazing upward, I marveled that there were so many stars at this time in the morning. How long until sunrise? Based on where the sun set last night, I glanced toward the East, noting a large hilly ridge in the distance.

I picked my way up the slope toward the back of the big house, catching a scent of bacon and soft voices as I ascended the porch steps. Following the wraparound porch, I found the picnic table and all the cowboys gathered around it.

Tag was the first one to notice me. His early morning voice rasped a little. “Mornin’ Sarah.”

“Good morning.” I gave them all an awkward wave.