Page 29 of Forgiveness River

Raven took the chair across from him, acutely aware of how strange it felt to sit across from her own husband as if they were acquaintances meeting for a casual dinner. “I should have known something was up when Mac practically pushed me up the stairs.”

“She’s about as subtle as a freight train,” Wyatt agreed, his smile turning rueful. “Gets that from Simone.”

An awkward silence fell between them, filled with all the words neither had been able to say. Raven’s fingers fidgeted with the silver hoops at her ears, a nervous habit she’d never quite broken.

“How’s the boutique?” Wyatt asked finally.

“Busy. Tourist season.” She gestured vaguely toward downtown. “You know how it gets.”

“Yeah.”

Another silence, heavier than the first.

“How’s work?” she ventured.

“Busy. Always.” He shrugged, the motion drawing her attention to the breadth of his shoulders beneath his tactical shirt.

Raven glanced out at the view, searching for something—anything—to ease the tension crackling between them. From this height, Laurel Valley spread out like a fairy-tale village, the cobblestone streets winding between chalet-style shops, flower boxes bursting with color, the mountains rising majestically in the background.

“Remember the first time we came up here?” Wyatt asked suddenly, his voice soft with memory.

Raven’s breath caught. “Summer Festival. Fifteen years ago.”

“Sixteen,” he corrected gently. “You were wearing that blue sundress with the little white flowers. Your hair was longer then, down to your waist.”

“And you couldn’t stop staring at me.” The memory tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Can you blame me?” His eyes met hers, the intensity in them making her pulse quicken despite herself. “I was thirteen and I’d discovered I was much more interested in you than Iwas in fishing or wrestling with my brothers. You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

“We snuck away from your family,” Raven continued, the years falling away as she spoke. “They were all watching the folk dancers in the square. But you took my hand and led me around that corner over there.”

“The sunset was unbelievable that night,” Wyatt said, leaning forward in his chair, closer to her. “All those colors reflecting off the lake.”

“But you weren’t looking at the sunset.”

He shook his head slowly. “No. I wasn’t.”

“You were so nervous,” Raven whispered, caught in the memory. “Your hands were shaking.”

“I really wanted to kiss you,” Wyatt admitted, smiling wryly. “It was my first attempt and I was terrified you’d push me away.”

She chuckled. “It’s a good thing I wanted you to kiss me.”

Their eyes locked across the small table, the air between them charged with shared history and the ache of recent distance. Without conscious thought, Raven found herself leaning toward him, drawn by the gravity that had always existed between them.

“I kept thinking you were going to come to your senses,” Wyatt murmured, his voice dropping to that low register that had always sent shivers down her spine. “But you never did. And we eventually got pretty good at the kissing.”

He reached across the table, his fingers brushing against hers with exquisite gentleness. Her breath caught as he leaned in, and she found herself moving closer, so their breaths mingled.

“Raven, I?—”

The balcony door burst open with a bang, and Mac appeared, juggling a tray laden with food and drinks. Her eyes widened comically as she took in their closeness.

“Oh! Sorry! I didn’t mean to—I was just—” She looked from Raven to Wyatt and back again, mortification coloring her cheeks. “Food! I brought food!”

The moment shattered like fine crystal dropped on stone.

Wyatt sat back, the invisible wall between them reconstructing itself brick by brick. “Thanks, Mac.”

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