As I approach the edge of the winding river less than a minute’s walk from my cottage, it’s like someone has injected me with life. The effects are instantaneous. With a lift of my chin, I close my eyes and inhale until I’m no longer dulled and disoriented. Everything becomes clear. In Balsam Grove, I breathe the air with new lungs, feel the breeze with new skin, and see the land through new eyes. It’s divinity at its finest.

It’s not hard to understand why I fell in love with this place when I was younger. In a world so busy, so full, and so totally reliant on technology, there’s an incomparable serenity when you come to the mountains. Wandering alongside the river, finding perfect flat stones to skip across the wide divide of water, stopping every so often to memorize the simplest things. I’ve fallen completely under its spell once more.

I don’t try to navigate my path. I hike beside the river, around every curve and bend, uphill and against the current. It’s a familiar path, but my focus isn’t on the destination. Every now and then I stop to take a drink from the stream, pluck a fiery pink flower, and tune into a wild animal scampering across fallen leaves. But it’s not until I reach a steeper incline that I take a moment to assess where I’m headed.

The river has significantly deepened and increased in speed since I began walking a few minutes ago. A steeper incline forces me to distance myself from the water’s edge, onto a more manageable path through the woods. My thighs burn from the steady climb, and my throat aches from dehydration. I never planned to journey this far, but I could have at least thought to bring water. I’m ready to turn back, find the river, and drink from it when I spot the top of a familiar red house peeking over the hill. Hummingbirds unleash in my chest as I inch forward.

Mere seconds later, I’m standing on flat land again, taking in the two-story home that overlooks a waterfall, an old millhouse beside it. It’s like it came out of nowhere, but this house—it’s home to some of my best memories, my biggest dreams, and the beginning of the horrible nightmare that ended life as I knew it.

“Ah, that’s my girl,” a voice booms in the distance. “Bring it here, Lacey.”

Shit. Jaxon?

My eyes sweep left, to the source of the river. Two waterfalls coming from different directions spill into one body of water where Jaxon treads. He’s patting the water as Lacey paddles over with a stick in her mouth.

My Lacey.

My chest constricts at the sight of her, no longer a puppy.

Jaxon takes the stick from her mouth, then rubs her head before she continues paddling to the edge of the river. After she climbs out and does a full body shake to dry off, he tosses the stick to the side and turns back to the water, swimming lap after lap until I’ve lost count. Every powerful stroke reveals inches of well-cut muscle and betrays his familiarity with the water.

Jaxon always loved everything about the water. Diving, swimming, fishing…sex. I shiver at the memory of how well our slick bodies fit together. Of his delicate fingers stripping me of my bikini top so he could see all of me as he inched his way into my body, my heart. Of his hot mouth wrapping around my pebbled nipple just to hear my whispered cry. Of the way he watched me with hooded eyes as I came for him, my back pressed against a boulder and the plunging falls above us swallowing my cries.

He took everything good from me, but it was me that handed it over for the taking.

He’s still mesmerizing, and I can’t take my eyes off him now. With every stroke, I imagine him swimming away from me, away from our past and deeper into the rushing swell of the stream. How long has he been swimming? How far?

I swallow my anxiety as he finally breaks from his exercise to catch his breath. When he does, I’m as breathless as he is.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been staring when he uses the slick rocks to pull himself from the water, but I’m completely captivated by the droplets coursing down his naked back and arms. He’s all strength and agility, effortlessly pulling himself to his feet. I should turn away, but I don’t. Instead, I watch as water glides from his long hair, down his narrow waist, and then over the most beautiful ass I’ve ever seen.

Is he…?

I gasp, my hand clapping over my mouth. But it’s too late. One slip of my breath is all it takes for Lacey’s snout to jerk in my direction and sound off the first menacing growl. Jaxon’s head follows in a swivel just as I slam my body onto the ground, hiding myself from view. Something sharp cuts through my skin at the top of my arm. I groan, knowing blood will follow, but there’s no time to inspect the damage. I need to get out of here before Jaxon sees me.

And then guilt hits me. Jaxon isn’t mine to ogle. He’s with Meg.

Lacey is still growling, and she lets out a bark just before I hear the click of paws scraping against the rocks. Shit. She’s coming. I wince, managing to keep my cry silent as I army crawl my way down the hill.

I make it about halfway when I hear another growl, this one much closer. My head snaps up, and I find myself staring into the ferocious, light blue eyes of the most beautiful creature. Lacey stands on top of the hill, detonating bark after bark, her teeth bared and angry.

She doesn’t even remember me. My sad heart cries.

“Lacey! Get back here. Now!” Jaxon’s voice booms.

The cuddly giant lets out a half-bark, half-yelp before whining and backing up at her master’s command. Relief floods my veins while I watch, wide-eyed, as Lacey retreats, thankful Jaxon decided not to chase after her. I think I might literally die if he saw me this way, lurking around like some predator.

And that’s when I realize, lurker to lurker, Jaxon and I are now even.