Page 26 of Feels Like Falling
Her smile is so bright and disarming that I hear myself say, “I can’t wait.”
11
ELLISON
My excitement over my new place lasted exactly three hours before the loneliness set in. I’ve lived alone most of my adult life, but after one night at Montana’s house, I am already homesick. He’d asked if I wanted him to stay my first night here but I’d declined—foolishly. Now I’m on night two, and it doesn’t seem to be any better.
I wanted to prove that I could do this. I could move home, rent a house, and not use my best friend as an emotional crutch. Things with Montana had always been complicated, and honestly, I hadn’t taken the time to look ahead to the now. I’d been so stuck in the past—on the things that held us back—that I’d never truly thought about what I wanted.
I hadn’t allowed myself the freedom to dream. But being here in Blackstone Falls, the possibilities are endless. Unfortunately, I’m going to need some more sleep before I start making forever-and-ever-amen kind of decisions.
Adjusting my pillow again, I roll toward the opposite wall, the clock on the side table taunting me as it continues to count the minutes I can’t sleep. Resigned, I admit that while I don’t miss the hustle and bustle of Savannah, I’m also not going to reacclimate to the near silence of Blackstone Falls overnight.
Sleeping with Montana had been a dream, and I didn’t wake once all night. For all the shit I gave him—and planned to give him—he was everything good and wonderful in my life.
He also seems to be the key to sleep.
Huffing out a groan, I throw the covers back and climb out of bed. I’d done this so many times growing up, but instead of the teenage girl sneaking out of her house, I’m the grown woman casually strolling over to my best friend’s house in the middle of the night.
I frown as I throw a sweatshirt on and pack clothes for the morning. At this rate, I’ll be living with Montana in no time. The thought makes me smile as I look around the rental that feels nothing like me.
Arguably, I haven’t been here long enough to give up on the charming cottage. On the other hand, there’s a sexy cowboy sleeping just across the lawn with strong arms and rock-hard abs I want wrapped and pressed against me.
I lock the door and then walk down to my car and climb in. Starting it, I don’t bother turning the headlights on. I’m not trying to wake Grandad, and the moon is bright enough I can see just fine on the short drive.
Thinking of Grandad has a smile pulling at my lips. He’dknown. Montana and I thought we’d gotten away with sneaking back and forth between our houses, but he knew. And that meant that someone else probably knew too.
Turning into their driveway, I park farther from the house than I normally would and grab my bag from the passenger seat before stepping out of the car. Pausing, I close my eyes and listen to the sounds that made up the soundtrack of my childhood. Somehow, standing in front of Montana’s house, the quiet doesn’t feel as suffocating as it did at the cottage.
Shaking my head, I push the thoughts away. I needmoresleep—not less—and that kind of runaway train was bound to keep me tossing and turning.
Hot guy or not.
Skirting around the porch, I walk the length of the house until I find Montana’s first floor window. This had been his room growing up, but after his parents moved to Florida and he took over the farm, he took over the entire upstairs.
He said he’d moved back down to the first floor after Grandad’s surgery, and that kind heart of his had a storm of butterflies taking up residence in my belly. Those flutters might have causedflutterselsewhere, and I grin as I pick up a small stone and toss it against the glass.
It clinks quietly so I wait.
And wait.
Annoyed, I grab two more from the ground and toss them in quick succession. This time, muffled cursing can be heard just before Montana pulls open the curtains and yanks up the window.
“You have a key, Ellison,” he grunts, causing me to put my hand on my hip with a dose of the dramatic flair he loves.
“Excuse me for bein’ sentimental and trying to climb through your window.” He stares at me, unblinking and deliciously rumpled. “Oh, don’t be like that, Max. I didn’t want to wake the dog.”
“Go use your key,” Montana huffs before closing the windowandthe curtain, leaving me standing outside with my mouth hanging open. A laugh threatens to escape and I press my lips together to keep from waking anyone, animals included, as I walk back to the front door that I do in fact have a key for.
Lucky for me, I don’t have to use it because even though he’s annoyed at me, my best friend is standing there rubbing sleep from his eyes, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs and awill you hurry your ass up and get insideexpression.
Sashaying past him, I press a kiss to his cheek and make my way down the hall as he closes and locks the door. His footsteps are heavy on the floor behind me, and my body heats at his proximity and the anticipation of being in his arms.
It doesn’t matter how annoyed he is with me. Montana Greene is the God’s honest definition of a cuddler. Collapsing face down on the bed, he groans, his voice muffled by the pillow. “For fuck’s sake, Eddie, why aren’t you in bed?”
“I just need to hang my clothes for tomorrow.”
He mumbles something that sounds an awful lot likeI swear to God, womanwhich I choose to ignore even if my lips twitch.
