Page 46 of The Lost Book of First Loves

He still seemed baffled at her interest, but finally shrugged. “Fine. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to get started.”

“Thanks, Beckett.”

“Beck. You don’t have to call me Beckett.”

“And I’m June. Hardly anyone calls me Juniper.”

“I like it, though. Junipers are some of my favorite trees. They represent strength and resilience and can grow in both acidic and alkaline soils, in even the most harsh conditions. They can grow out of rocks and can survive and thrive even with very little water.”

She did not represent her namesake tree, at least not right now. She wasn’t thriving at all.

“Should we head home?” he asked Hank, who had come in with them and was curled up on a small rug in front of the fireplace.

The dog cocked his head and gave a sharp bark, almost as if he understood every word.

“Good night,” Beck said.

“Same to you.” She held up the journals. “Thanks for these. I’m excited to dig in.”

“You’re welcome. I hope we haven’t given you too daunting a task.”

“I’m up for it,” she assured him, though she wasn’t entirely certain that was true.

She watched the man and his dog head off through the trees in the moonlight until the darkness quickly swallowed them.

After she could no longer see them, June returned to the cool, quiet cabin.

She suddenly realized she was exhausted. She had hardly done anything that day, but she still felt as if she had hiked to the top of Bridger Peak then raced back down.

Dr. Singh had told her it would take time to regain her energy. Her body had sustained a shock, literally and metaphorically, and was trying to adapt to the new normal. Whatever the hell that meant.

She let out a breath and sank down onto the long sofa, setting Carson’s journals on the coffee table.

Life somehow didn’t seem as bleak as it had that morning. She now had two things to look forward to. First, she would have the chance to dig into the journals that could reveal the famous author’s psyche. And second, she couldn’t wait to watch Beckett Hunter at work again.

Both men fascinated her.

She was attracted to Beck.

She remembered again seeing him at the ranch house, when she had felt tingles in places long dormant.

She wasn’t even sure she liked the man yet, but she was definitely drawn to him.

What did it matter? Through the fabric of her shirt, she traced a hand over the bandage covering her incision, below her collarbone.

She could be attracted to Beckett until the cows came home. Nothing would ever come of it. What would he—or any other man—want with someone like her now, someone whose new normal involved an implantable device in her chest, a history of cardiac arrest and the potential for further complications in the future?

Chapter 16

Alison

Funny how her life seemed to have changed so much over the past seven years while she had lived away from Bridger Peak, but some things about the town remained exactly the same as she remembered.

The day after her dinner with June, Beck and her grandmother, Ali walked up to the front door of the small brick home where Xander had lived with his aunt and uncle from the age of ten. This place hadn’t changed. It was comfortable and neat, with flower boxes that overflowed with early summer blossoms.

While the house itself was modest, the flower gardens were exuberant and lush, though somewhat overgrown, she noticed. Probably not that surprising. Robert, Sylvia’s husband and Xander’s great-uncle, had been the avid gardener in the family. Most mornings and evenings in the late spring and summer would find him out here, creating beauty out of his surroundings.

She rang the doorbell, smiling at the sign above the door that still read Love Lives Here.

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