Chapter One
Jackson Sasser wasn’t thinking about Chris as he drove along the narrow two-lane road, winding its way up the mountain. He wasn’t thinking about the ten years they spent together as he turned off the road onto the single-track gravel logging path. He swore he wasn’t humming along with their song when it came on the satellite channel they always listened to when they were together. No, Jackson Sasser was not thinking about Chris at all, and that was the first of many lies he told himself as he pulled the emergency brake on the SUV before turning the key to the “off” position.
He sat in the driver’s seat, his head filled with images he tried to fight: of Chris smiling, laughing and holding him. For two hours, he had driven away from Charlotte, where he lived with Chris for every day of their decade together, and still he could not exorcise Chris from his thoughts.
“It’s going to take time,” he said to himself as he looked up at the rearview mirror. “A lot of time,” he added as he studied his face.
At thirty-eight, he was still handsome, or so he was told by both men and women. His dark hair was cut in a fashionable but conservative short style, his beard neatly trimmed. His high cheekbones and green eyes worked well together making him what he would consider attractive for his age.
It wasn’t arrogance or conceit that led him to believe that he was handsome. He had been told it so many times he had lost count. It was just a pity that Chris had left him for someone younger and far more handsome. Gripping the steering wheel, he tried to breathe without feeling the pain of a broken heart. Chris left him, deserted him in May. It was now October and it still hurt like hell.
It was the pain that drove him to the mountains, to Copper Falls, North Carolina. Jackson needed time to think, to heal away from the city he called home. There was too much in Charlotte to remind him of Chris. Mutual friends, favorite shops, that café downtown that was their special place. As he forced himself out of the driver’s seat, he breathed in the fresh mountain air, hoping that with each breath his pain would subside.
Reaching into his jeans pocket he dug out his wallet, finding the key to the cabin and a note with detailed instructions for disarming the security system. The cabin was not what he expected. It was a house clinging to the side of the mountain. The house, a two-story log home with tall windows and a wraparound deck, was on loan from Wendell Umstead, a fellow partner in the law firm. Wendell understood Jackson’s desperate need for some time away.
Turning the key in the front door lock, he listened for the click that it unlocked and found the alarm panel beside the door. Punching in the code Wendell had given him, the alarm silenced, and he averted alerting the police of an intruder. With the crisis prevented, he walked into the living room and let out a long whistle. The room was two stories high with enormous windows overlooking the valley. Oversized leather furniture and a fireplace made of river stones completed the rustic mountain ambience. A quick look around the house confirmed that the master bedroom and jacuzzi tub were upstairs, two guest rooms were downstairs, and a gourmet kitchen with dining room was located just off the living room.
This house was ideal for a romantic weekend for two. Unfortunately, Jackson realized with a sudden feeling of despair, it was going to be a week of just him, all alone, with no romance of any kind. This marked the first trip he had ever taken by himself, a painful but necessary part of his new life.
Twenty minutes later, he was finished unpacking, his needs being simple now that it was just him. Dressed in his favorite pair of flannel lounge pants and his old college sweatshirt, he headed for the kitchen. The wine rack was stocked, the refrigerator filled with beer, cold cuts and cheese, with a typed note on the door explaining the reason for the well-stocked kitchen.
J—
The company that manages this property was instructed to stock the fridge and the wine rack. Make yourself at home. If you don’t find any libations, call me.
Relax and have fun,
Wendell
Reaching for a bottle of beer, he silently thanked Wendell as he popped the cap and drank back the cold beverage. Shivering from the cold drink and dropping temperature outside he approached the fireplace, finding everything he needed for a roaring fire. Once, he used to be an avid camper, a real outdoorsy type, but that was before Chris became the center of his world and he lost himself. After a few attempts, he successfully lit a blaze in the fireplace, feeling a small sense of accomplishment as he watched the flames leap higher toward the chimney.
Drinking the beer back in two long swallows he returned to the kitchen for a second one. He wasn’t driving and he wasn’t trying to impress anyone. Why did it matter if he had a few beers, he thought as he popped the top off. The sun was setting along the distant ridge as he slid open the sliding glass doors and stepped onto the deck. Slipping into an Adirondack chair, he watched the sun’s descent behind the horizon, shivering as he drank the beer. The sun was setting. It was symbolic of the end of the day and the end of his relationship with Chris. Chris was not coming back. Jackson decided after months of wishing that he no longer wanted him in his life, not after the pain and suffering he had caused.
Holding up the beer to the setting sun, in a toast to endings, he drank the contents back in one swig as the last rays of the golden red sunset turned to purple. He remained on the deck, mesmerized by the stars that came out in the night sky. When he could no longer stand the chill in the air, he returned to the kitchen for a third beer. Beer in hand, he settled down in front of the fireside to indulge in one final night of weeping about Chris.