Waiting at the mine entrance for the final barrier to be bulldozed away, Sage zipped her jumpsuit back up and straightened her spine. Deep breaths. Don’t let them see your anxiety.
Her coworkers had been visibly horrified yesterday when she’d shown up to train. Some of them had even offered to trade jobs with her, explaining they had daughters the same age and wouldn’t want them within fifty feet of the mine. But she’d declined, knowing full well Augie would never allow it. Those requests would have been denied with great pleasure and she couldn’t—wouldn’t—give him that.
Nor would she walk out of the darkness with tearstained cheeks and fear in her eyes. Lord knew it was there. Three hours spent trapped, fresh oxygen in short supply, had Sage wishing she’d devoted more time to praying. All those hours logged inside churches and she was usually focused on the seating arrangements. It all seemed so silly when her life could be in the balance if another collapse happened. Or the air ran out.
Yet those fairy tales she’d created had kept her strong in the darkness, her tears soaking Belmont’s shirt. For a few hours, she’d stopped judging herself for escaping Sibley and let herself remember the joy of breaking free. Happiness was attainable through hard work. Mining was harder work, but it didn’t diminish the joy of giving someone a happily ever after. She would sustain herself on the memories of those weddings for a long time to come.
The radio at her hip crackled. “Have you out in five minutes, Alexander.”
She took a deep inhale and pressed the Talk button. “Okay. Take your time.”
The casual rejoinder emerged without a thought, as if she’d just agreed to meet Peggy at the beach. Peggy. Sage closed her eyes and thought of her best friend. Would she marry Elliott the football coach someday? In some alternate universe, would they call her to plan the wedding?
Pretending she would have that freedom, Sage began to wiggle her fingers, the way she did when ideas started to percolate. Peggy would wear light pink, some kind of sparkly embellishment at her hip. Maybe a nineteen-forties film star hairstyle with a tasteful feather curved behind her ear. Her best friend would want it simple this time, unlike the prior four failed attempts to walk down the aisle. Small and tasteful out of consideration for her fiancé, who wouldn’t be into a huge ceremony and reception.
But small didn’t mean they couldn’t have flash. That was Peggy’s style. Fuchsia and clean, crisp white. Calla lilies. Everywhere. Candle centerpieces, set on top of mirrors so the soft light would be reflected around the space. A jazz band, but an edgy one. Trombones and piano and soft vocals. They would need to incorporate Elliott into the aesthetic, too. Maybe she could tap some of his football player guests to do a choreographed dance. The napkin rings could be little gold crowns to recognize Elliott’s nickname, the Kingmaker.
They could—
Daylight.
Sage’s hands flew up to banish the brightness, her eyelids fluttering in an attempt to adjust. And she breathed. Heavily, deeply, sucking in greedy lungfuls of the piercing cold, winter air that snaked in through the mine’s mouth. As soon as she could feel her blood pumping again with the new dose of oxygen, Sage squared her shoulders and slipped through the slight opening they’d created on the left side. It was just big enough for her to climb out, although it was clear the bulldozer would be working steadily into the night to remove the remaining debris. Someone slapped an oxygen mask over her face and told her to breathe.
She gave a thumbs-up, doing as she was told, and squinted into the late afternoon light. Silhouettes of men in hard hats were all she could make out at first, but the concerned faces of her fellow miners eventually came into focus. They patted her awkwardly on the shoulders, muttering words she didn’t allow to penetrate. You shouldn’t be down there. He’s gone too far.
A car door slammed.
And then…silence.
There was no other way to describe the ten-thousand-pound hush that fell over the men. Her eyesight was still adjusting, so she tried to put a hand up to block the sunlight. Her arm wouldn’t lift, though, the relief having stolen her adrenaline and left her muscles knotted, stiff. Ducking into one of the men’s shadows, she traced the crew’s attention until she landed on the Suburban.
Belmont.
“No. Oh, no.” The words scraped out of her mouth, scooping her heart up, up along with them, leaving the organ lodged in her neck. Joy tried to blanket everything. Pure, blinding joy. Tiny humming sounds started in her ears, her nerve endings stretching in his direction. Mine, mine, mine. Her feet wanted to move, the legs she’d thought depleted of energy wanted to spring into action, launching herself into Belmont’s arms. Everything would click and be right and good and clean if he was holding her. He’d tell her she was too good for the mine, this town, and she would believe him.
It wouldn’t be true, though. The security he provided wouldn’t be permanent, either. For one, her secret was out. The battle to protect him had just gotten real, maybe impossible. And two? It was imperative she remember her other reason for splitting with Belmont. After getting a refresher of her parents’ relationship, there would be no ignoring the similarities to the one she’d been cultivating with Belmont. If she gave in and clung to him now, in a weak moment, she could very well drown in him.
Sage still wasn’t positive Belmont wasn’t a mirage. He was dusted in dancing, refracted light. Something out of a happy summer flashback, the kind she’d seen in movies. But this wasn’t a happy moment, was it? No, that euphoria clamoring and clanging like cymbals beneath her skin wasn’t allowed.
He’s here. He’s here. I can collapse now.
No. You can’t. That would be too easy.
If she’d been split down the middle by an ax, she couldn’t have been more firmly divided. His arms around her would be life changing at that moment. She’d been so scared in the dark and he would understand. Of anyone on the planet, he would understand. And she’d missed him so much. His total conviction of what was right and wrong. His dependability and the way he stuck to a decision, no matter what it cost him.
And Sage couldn’t allow coming after her to cost him.
Had she known he would come? Somewhere deep down, the possibility had never stopped singing, but she’d ignored it. Because acknowledging the chance would have meant she couldn’t remain in denial about needing him. By her side. Steady and constant.
A cloud moved in front of the sun, allowing Sage her first glimpse of his incredible face. Oh Lord. An invisible fist punched her square in the stomach. Belmont was a complex man, but she’d never seen him carrying this…amalgamation of rage and denial. Winter wind whipped around him, throwing his thick hair out in eighty directions, slapping his coat against his legs. So silent and full of motion at once.
It wasn’t only Sage that he captivated, either. After only two days of work, she knew the men around her never stopped talking. Ribbing each other, speculating on the weather, trading crawfish recipes. But you could have heard a pin drop in the quiet as Belmont started moving toward her. Her belly and thigh muscles contracted with each of his footfalls, the memory of his kiss and the hard, male body rushing to the surface, flushing her cheeks.
Resisting the pull of his comfort would be the hardest test of her life. Harder than breaking free of this town or working in the mine. But she wouldn’t allow herself to swirl down into the eddy, right into a codependent relationship. She wouldn’t. They’d already come so close after mere weeks of traveling together and she knew from watching her parents, the pull only grew more intense over time. Swallowed people whole. Blocked out the world.
She loved the world. Maybe she’d only discovered it a handful of years ago, but she adored so many of the things it had to offer. Belmont was one of them. But she couldn’t allow them to abuse each other’s comfort anymore.
And there was something more important she couldn’t allow. She could not let him step foot in that mine on her behalf. The very possibility was what had given her the strength to leave him in the first place, and moving backward would not only be unacceptable, it would be torture for both of them. Different kinds, but agonizing nonetheless. This was her debt to pay.
“Sage,” Belmont whispered. “Come away from there, please.”
Her insides shook in sync with his voice. “I’ll come away if you do. If you stay away.”
His footsteps faltered.
“From the mine,” she clarified quickly. “Stay away from the mine.”
Color returned to his face. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Well, would you look at that?” Augie’s voice—coming from her right—was like a cold blast, straight from a fire hose. “Little Sage here has herself a boyfriend. A big one.”
Don’t you dare look at him, she wanted to scream. Don’t you dare think about him.
But she remained still as death, eyes trained on Belmont, no way of stopping what happened next. She already knew, because she’d envisioned it in sleep so many times, usually waking in a cold sweat afterward.
Belmont was only a few yards away now, the group of miners parting to let him through, no questions asked. But he stopped and turned narrowed eyes on Augie, no sound to be heard but the cackling wind as they took each other’s measure. “Are you the one who sent her down there?”
Sage caught the fleeting awareness slip across Augie’s expression. A look that said, Here’s one I won’t walk through so easily. And he would have been right one hundred percent of the time if the mouth to Belmont’s hell weren’t yawning wide open at her back. “I am, indeed. This is my mine.”
Belmont’s jaw bunched, his attention landing back on Sage. “Come away from there, please, or I won’t be able to stop myself from carrying you.”
And I know you don’t want that.
Those words remained unspoken in the wind, but Sage caught them right in the breastbone like a spear. Not wanting to trade any more words with Belmont in front of Augie, because he would use any information to his advantage, Sage went and stood by Belmont’s side. The desire to tilt back her head and absorb his eye contact was so fierce, she didn’t bother denying the impulse. “How did you find me?”
“The scrapbook.” His eyes raced over her face. “You left me a map. I just followed it.”
Still unsure if she’d left the book on purpose, or if her subconscious had guided her, she swallowed. “Did you go to my house?”
His answer came through in the silence, loud and clear. And he wasn’t the kind of man who could contain his sympathy, even if the recipient didn’t want it. He embodied truth. Total honesty was one of her favorite things about Belmont, but the shame was too sharp this time to appreciate it.
“Dammit, Belmont. You had no right.”
Surprise snapped his chin up. She never cursed at him. Ever. Well, maybe he didn’t know everything about her, now did he? Maybe no one did, because she’d kept her faults locked up inside, along with her guilt. With her back up against the wall and a desolate future stretched out in front of her, maybe she’d become the kind of woman who curses a blue streak. As soon as the shock faded from his eyes, confidence replaced it. I am going to make it right, they said. And he could. He could make everything in her world right, if she let him. “I need to talk to your former boss, Sage.”
“Not former,” she breathed. “And no. You don’t.”
“I understand now.” His heat reached her through the jumpsuit as he shifted, putting his back to the men and shielding her from the sun. “I understand why you hid this problem from me. You know I have a weakness.” He nodded at the mine without taking his gaze off her, the intensity of it stealing her breath, her reason. “You forgot something important, though, Sage. I have no greater weakness or strength than you.”
Her entire being attempted to take flight, but with an enormous effort, she reeled it back in. “I would never—” she blurted, then quieted in deference to the dozens of ears around them. “I would never associate the word weak with you, but everyone has one thing they can’t face. It’s nothing to be ashamed about.” A pounding began in her temples. “And none of that matters anyway, Belmont. Because this is my responsibility. Not yours.”
He’d stopped listening. Oh, he was hearing her and retaining, but the listening to reason aspect had gotten thrown out the window. She could see him switch off, could sense the decision inside him hardening like cement. This was Determined Belmont, and if she wanted to crack the wall he’d built, she would need explosives. But nothing would be accomplished right now, because he was already turning to face Augie, who looked nothing short of gleeful.
“I have two things to say to you,” Belmont said, his voice taking on the quality of granite, his back muscles seeming to grow larger, more powerful beneath his coat. “First, if you call her Little Sage again, I’m going to reach down your throat and rip out your tongue.”
It was almost comical, the way the miners’ jaws fell open. Some of them even shuffled away from the scene, wise enough to know Augie’s wrath would fall even on those who witnessed him being cut down to size. Even Sage couldn’t believe the threat Belmont had made. Since he was usually strong and silent, it was out of character for him to speak with such controlled anger. Then again, no one had ever sent her down into a mine on his watch before.
For Augie’s part, his expression never shifted from smug, the glint in his eye menacing, measuring. “Is that so?”
“It is,” Belmont answered, leaving no doubt about his sincerity. “If you want to communicate with her, you do it with respect. If you need help deciding what’s respectful, run it past me first and I’ll decide if it’s worthy of her ears.”
“Why don’t you cut to the chase?” Augie cut in, red creeping up his neck. “I won’t be lectured to on my own property.”
Belmont turned and held Sage’s eyes over his shoulder. There was an apology there, but his resolve was palpable. “I’ll be taking her place starting now.”