Page 1 of My Forbidden Mountain Man

1

Violet

“We are now arriving at Fairland.” Above, an automated voice tells me what I can see with my own eyes.

A small town my mother brought me to when I was fourteen. Fairland is only one among a list I can count on one hand.

It’s also the place I left without looking back, the moment I turned eighteen. Now look at me, my guitar case tucked between my legs and luggage at my side.

There won’t be any welcoming parties waiting for me. No, I’ve come here unannounced. That’s what happens when a person runs out of options. Not like I have enough money to fly across the country to see if my mother is willing to help.

She’s too busy lounging in her early retirement, where the sun doesn’t just shine—it blisters, and the tourists swarm like locusts, drowning the sidewalks in sunscreen and selfie sticks.

Too busy playing newlywed withfuckingLarry—a man I know only as a name on a wedding registry and a smirk in her latest Facebook post.

Another husband, another signature, another flimsy certificate to add to her ever-growing collection. And me? Left on read, like always. She can’t be bothered to help me out with my latest SOS. No, she’s set with a rich asshole who manages his own winery.

The bus groans to a halt, and the driver’s voice crackles through the speakers—a nicotine-stained rasp—calling out the name of this town’s only stop.

Getting up, I apologize to anyone I brush against with my belongings as I make my way off. While two others join me, they’re quick to go their way, having already known where they’re going.

Completely the opposite of them, I’m a little more lost.

It’s been six years since the last time I’ve been here. While everything seems familiar, it all looks new at the same time. There are businesses I don’t recognize, faces that look unfamiliar.

Strapping my case to my back and dragging my luggage behind me, I head toward a cafe with the nameAtomic Roastplastered on top, surrounded by wooden carvings of coffee cups.

As the smell of grounds hits me full force, my mouth waters. With a light wallet, I know I can’t fuel my caffeine addiction. At the same time, I’m tempted to ask them for a shot of espresso. Anything to fuel me.

Two days on a bus have left me in a rough state. I’m getting desperate here. If I don’t get something soon, this tank will be running on empty.

Hunting down a booth with an outlet, I get comfortable and dig out a phone charger. Plugging it in, I ignore any curious glances sent in my way.

Compared to these mundane customers, who are coated in dull, neutral colors, I’m the complete opposite.

Running mascara, smudged eyeliner, and dark roots, combined with pastel lilac hair, aren’t exactly natural in a tame place like this. We can only imagine how bad the bags are beneath my eyes.

God,I’d trade a felony for a stranger to buy me a coffee right now. I’m not past making myself look worse than I already do. I’m not some innocent flower afraid to wilt.

Get on my knees? Worth the ache. Wouldn’t even be the weirdest thing I’ve done before noon. The taste of cock is easy to cover up with an extra shot of espresso thrown in for something that takes no longer than thirty seconds.

Dignity’s a luxury, and I’m on a budget.

Looking around, I grimace when all I see are happy, smiling families.

Man.All this does is remind me that I’m no longer living the city life. After years of traveling from capital to capital, I’ve forgotten that some places don’t have shadows lurking.

For however long this lasts, it will take some time to get used to.

Once my phone powers up, I use the free Wi-Fi to search for options to get to my final destination.

No taxis. No Uber or Lyft. No old friends to bum a ride up the mountain.

Groaning as I try to search through my options, I jerk when a paper cup is pushed toward me. The delicious brown liquid makes my insides sing, but I’m immediately growing defensive at the sight of the offering. The last thing I expect to see when I lift my gaze is a friendly face with curly red hair.

Julie,by her nametag, gives me a gentle smile on the side.

“I don’t—” I start, my chest growing tight as my skin prickles.

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