Page 1 of Reclaimed Roots

Prologue

"When I grow up,I want a big family. I hate being an only child."

"But you have us. You're practically an Everton kid."

"Yeah, I guess."

"None of that shit. You're an Everton. And one day, I'll give you the last name too."

"As long as we live anywhere but Sable Point.

"You really want to leave?"

"Small-town life just isn't for me. But I know you want?—"

"We can live wherever you want, babe. Doesn't matter to me as long as I'm with you."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Chapter One

JASPER

Funerals suck.

A miserable gathering where everyone is forced to confront their own mortality is the worst kind of social obligation. At twenty-five, I should have considered myself lucky that this was the first one I'd ever had to attend, but I already knew it wasn't an experience I was anxious to repeat.

The church pew was like an icy slab against my back. I shifted uncomfortably and stared at the ornate casket at the front. I was sure no one actually enjoyed funerals—maybe if you stood to inherit millions or you murdered the person. But that wasn't the case here. Edward Choi was an exceptionally good man.

He'd been the orchard's accountant for my entire life; his small accounting firm in downtown Sable Point took care of most of the local businesses. Except for Vintage Point Vineyards because, of course, the Belmontes were far too superior to use a small-town firm like the Chois'. But he was more thanthe town's go-to numbers guy. Ed was like a second father to me.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to steady the chaos in my head. Why did the good ones always go too soon? If there were any justice in the world, a guy like Ed should have lived to see a hundred, surrounded by grandkids and still cracking jokes about the IRS. The last time I saw him, he looked tired, but he still flashed that warm, fatherly smile when I walked into his office. We talked about the orchard's books, but mostly we just caught up. If I'd known it was my last chance to speak to him, I would have stayed longer.

Natalie was sitting in the front row, shoulders hunched, dabbing at her eyes with a crumpled tissue. Her long, silken black hair flowed over her shoulders and, from this angle, it obscured most of her face. But when she reached up and swept her hair to one side, exposing the slender column of her neck, it was just enough to spark unwanted memories. She looked more gorgeous than I remembered, and that was saying something because I remembered her in vivid, technicolor detail.

My gaze lingered on her lips—the most kissable pale pink lips I'd ever had the pleasure of tasting. And, fuck me, it was a pleasure every damn time. I could almost feel their softness again, the way they'd part with a sigh when we?—

Fuck. Stop. Not the time or the place.

But my mind was a runaway train, and I was helpless to derail it. I thought about the nights we spent wrapped around each other, the stolen moments in her father's office when hestepped out for a coffee. We were young and reckless. We thought we had all the time in the world. Seeing her brought it all rushing back—the passion, the tenderness, the foolish hope that something real could come of us.

I wondered if she was thinking about those times too. About me. About us. It was natural that she'd be consumed by the loss of her father, especially a father like Ed. But a selfish part of me hoped she was hurting for other reasons too, that she missed me even a fraction as much as I missed her.

It was the first time I'd seen her in years. Watching her walk into the church hit like a Mack truck with failing brakes. Intellectually, I knew she'd be here, but I hadn't been emotionally ready to see her. Especially not with her boyfriend—some generic pretty boy in an ill-fitting suit, his arm draped around her shoulders like he had any fucking clue what she was going through.

I thought I could handle seeing her again. I'd been preparing to greet her with the cool detachment of an old friend. How stupidly optimistic of me.

Her boyfriend whispered something in her ear, and she nodded slowly, her eyes distant and glassy. I could almost convince myself that she was going through the motions, that his presence was more for show than for comfort. But who was I kidding? They walked in holding hands, for Christ's sake. He was probably a decent guy, the kind who took her out to fancy dinners and traveled with her to exotic places. Someone she could build a life with.

A life.That's what stung the most. The realization thatshe'd found someone while I was still stuck in the past.How long had they been together? Did they meet in college? At a conference?Maybe he'd been a shoulder to cry on when Ed's health started to decline. However it happened, it was clear he was more than a fling.

I should've known she wouldn't stay single forsevenyears. Not that I'd been celibate. But each fling had been just that—a brief, passionless encounter that left me emptier than before. I'd kiss them and wait for the spark that never came, touch them and feel nothing but the coldness of my own detachment. It was unfair to them, and I knew it. But I hoped that going through the motions would somehow jumpstart my heart, make me forget her. It never worked.

No one compared. No one was worth the time. The effort. The heartache.

No one except her.

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