Jasper Vale (The Edens)

Foster and I sat across from each other on the mats at his gym, stretching our hamstrings after a three-mile run.

“So did you see the announcement?” he asked.

“I did.”

This was the subject I’d been waiting for him to bring up all morning. I’d thought he might want to talk about it during the run. Instead, he’d stayed quiet, letting me push him faster and faster. Until now, when he was ready.

“Great statement,” I said.

“Talia helped me write it.”

Foster had announced his retirement today. In the news article I’d read this morning, he’d thanked the UFC and his fans for supporting him throughout his career. He’d even thanked me.

His retirement wasn’t news, not to those of us who knew him personally. He’d told me about it weeks ago but had chosen to hold off on the announcement to ride the wave of his final victory for just a little bit longer.

Until now, when it was time to say goodbye.

“It feels strange.” He dragged a hand over his beard. “Not bad, just . . . I don’t know the right word.”

“Official.”

“Something like that.”

“You all right? No second thoughts?”

He shook his head. “No regrets. I’m where I need to be.”

And he had a whole future ahead of him, a life to build with Talia and their growing family.

“Even though I’m retired, you’re still my trainer,” he said.

“I know.”

He’d told me the same thing when he’d shared his decision to step away from fighting. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Foster would pay me for the rest of his life just to run alongside him around Quincy. To spar with him at his private gym. To stretch in this very spot.

But training had never been about the money. I didn’t need money.

I’d started training because I’d needed . . . something.

More than ten years I’d been doing this and I still couldn’t exactly articulate that something.

The physical release was part of it. So was the thrill of watching a student or athlete win. And when I’d started down this path, it had been the first time in my life when I hadn’t felt like a second thought. When I’d walked into my first dojo all those years ago, I hadn’t been a burden.

Finally, I’d been in the right place at the right time.

Montana had been the right place, initially. With Foster’s retirement, well . . . I wasn’t sure what was next.

For years, Foster had forged the path. He’d led. I’d followed. That had suited me just fine. But he’d finished his journey. He’d found that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

So where was I headed?

The last time I’d been in this position, staring at a blank future, I’d managed to find a career. A best friend.

But that friendship was about to change. When Eloise and I got divorced, Foster would choose a side, and I wasn’t foolish enough to think it would be mine.

Damn, but I’d miss him. The worry of what was to come was like an endless cloud hanging over my head.

Foster jumped up to his bare feet, rolling his arms in big circles, loosening his muscles. “Is Eloise working today?”

“No, she’s at home. The weekend desk clerk needs Saturday off so she’s going to cover and take today off instead.”

When I’d left the cabin this morning, she’d been folding laundry. She’d mentioned running errands later and swinging out to the ranch. There’d been no invitation to tag along, probably because she knew I would have said no.

It had been a month since that awkward and tense dinner with her family. Other than occasionally crossing paths with Talia here at the gym or my infrequent stops at the coffee shop where I’d bump into Lyla, I hadn’t seen much of the Edens.

I preferred it that way.

Eloise didn’t bring them up. Even Foster rarely mentioned them anymore.

I’d only gone to that dinner because Eloise had insisted, but it had taken all my willpower not to call out her parents on their bullshit.

How could they not see how hard she was trying? I had no doubt that they loved her. But there was a reason she was faking this marriage.

Her family, her parents, had put so much pressure on Eloise to change that she’d convinced herself she wasn’t good enough. That to get that hotel, she couldn’t say no. That she had to be perfect.

She already was.

They wanted her to harden that beautiful heart, to put up walls and shut people out. To guard herself so no one, including me, could take advantage of her trusting nature. If they kept pushing, they’d snuff out all of the wonderful that made her Eloise.

But this wasn’t my fight. Considering the unhealthy relationship I had with my own parents, I had no place to speak up. So I’d stayed quiet at dinner.

Did I have to like the Edens? No. And despite Eloise’s wishes, they didn’t need to like me either. I’d be gone soon. The wedding was at the end of the month.

It would be Eloise’s turn to deal with family—mine.

And Sam’s.

After that, she’d realize just how messed up this entire situation was, how shitty it was of me to ask her to go with me to Italy. She’d probably put a rush on drafting our divorce papers.

“What else do you feel like doing?” Foster asked. “Want to spar?”

“Do you?” We’d spent so many years together, I knew what answer was coming.

He shrugged. “Not really.”

“Let’s call it quits.” I stood, walking over to the bench where I’d left my sweatshirt and phone.

“How about we go to lunch?” he asked.

“Sure.” I pulled on my hoodie, covering my sweaty T-shirt. If I only had weeks left in Quincy with Foster, I’d do just about anything he wanted.

Except another painful dinner at the ranch.

“You good with Eden Coffee?”

“Sounds good.”

Although going there felt like a slight betrayal. According to Eloise, Lyla was still acting strange, so she’d been avoiding the coffee shop. But if that was where Foster wanted to eat, I’d let him choose. He had to live in Quincy for the rest of his life. He had to deal with the Edens.

Eloise and Lyla would patch things up after I was gone.

“Mind if I take a quick shower?” Foster jerked his chin to the gym’s small apartment. It was where he’d lived when he’d first moved to Quincy.

“Not at all.” I swept up my phone, taking a seat on the bench while he disappeared into the apartment. A moment later, the water turned on.

I was just about to scroll through the news when my phone rang. My insides knotted at the name on the screen.

Samantha.

The call shouldn’t have surprised me. Ever since I’d mailed the reply to that wedding invitation with my name and a plus-one, I’d known another call was coming. Still, my pulse quickened as my heart crept toward my throat.

“What, Samantha?” I answered, gripping the phone too tight as I pressed it to my ear.

“Oh, my full name. You’re in a bad mood.”

When was I going to stop answering her calls? I regretted it each and every time. Yet here I was, listening to her voice on the other end of the line for the thousandth time. “Did you need something? I’m working.”

“Are you though? I read an article today about Foster Madden’s retirement.”

I gritted my teeth, holding back a snide comment that would just drag this out.

So she’d called to rub it in my face. Sam had always criticized my job as a trainer. To her, it was a hobby. Not something any self-respecting man would do, because it would never make me rich.

I was already rich, something she very well knew, but no amount of money would ever be enough for my ex-wife.

“What’s new? Fuck anyone interesting lately?” she asked.

“Do we really need to do this?”

“Oh, that’s a yes. Tell me all about her. Does she tug your hair just the way you like it?”

As a matter of fact, yes. Eloise was always pulling on my hair when we were having sex. But I kept my mouth shut.

“Tell me.”

“No,” I clipped.

“Jasper.”

I stayed quiet, having learned a long time ago that whether I talked or not, it wouldn’t matter, not to Sam. She didn’t give a damn what I had to say.

She’d fill the lull in conversation.

Eloise did that too.

Though Eloise never spoke with the intention to hurt. Her tongue wasn’t her greatest weapon. No, when Eloise talked, that heart of hers shined even brighter.

“How many times have you fucked her?” Sam asked. “More than once? Is she the first since me?”

Yes. At thirty-three years old, I could count on two fingers the women I’d slept with more than once. Samantha.

And Eloise.

“Your silence is telling, Jasper.”

I always regretted these calls, but none so much as today’s.

When had we started this sick game? I wished I could go back in time, to that first phone call after our divorce, and block Sam’s number.

There’d been a woman in my bed when she’d called. I’d just moved to Vegas. I’d met a pretty woman at a bar and had forgotten her name as soon as she’d spoken it. But I hadn’t needed a name to take her to bed.

The morning after, Sam’s call had woken me up early. It had woken the woman too. Sam had heard her in the background, and instead of hanging up, she’d asked if I’d liked fucking another woman.

I’d lied and said yes, mostly to make Sam jealous.

But Samantha had called me on the lie. We’d known each other too damn long to pull off convincing lies.

Two weeks later, Sam had called again. Asked if I’d been with another woman. So I’d told her all of the vivid details, rubbing my sex life in her face, thinking maybe it would hurt her the way she’d hurt me.

It hadn’t.

Ten years had passed since our divorce.

When would this stop?

“I had sex last night,” she said. “I thought about you. I thought about our first time. Remember that? We were so young.”

And stupid. We hadn’t used any protection. Thank fuck she hadn’t gotten pregnant.

“It was so . . . bad.” She laughed. “It was sweet. You were so gentle. But we were so bad in the beginning. Then we got better, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I dragged a hand through my hair. We’d learned with each other. Taught each other. I’d never forget the two of us sitting on my bed, shoulder to shoulder, reading a book on tantric sex.

Any other woman and I probably would have been embarrassed. Not Sam.

“Who is this mystery woman? Is she any good?”

“Goodbye, Samantha.”

“Wait.”

Hell. “What?”

“Tell me. Does she make you lose your mind? Does she rake her nails down your back and leave marks?”

“Yes. It’s the best sex I’ve ever had.”

It was the truth.

And I’d never felt so fucking slimy in my life.

“Are you bringing this woman to my wedding?” Sam asked.

“Yes, I am.”

“Who is she?”

If I couldn’t hang up the phone, then what I was about to tell Sam would do the trick. “My wife.”

The line went quiet.

No one in my family knew I’d gotten married. There was no way Sam could have known before now.

Sam cleared her throat. “I’m excited to meet her.” A lie.

“She’s a treasure.” A truth.

Without a goodbye, Sam ended the call. Probably to make another. To scatter her minions in search of gossip and information on Eloise. But whatever drama Sam conjured wouldn’t touch us, not in Montana.

And anyone who might have cared that I’d gotten married in secret, well . . . they’d stopped talking to me a long time ago. My parents included.

I stood from the bench suppressing the urge to puke.

Foster walked out, dressed in clean clothes, his hair wet. He held up his phone. “Okay, change of plan. Tally’s not feeling well. She’s, um . . .”

“Pregnant.” It was a guess, something I’d suspected for a while. But my hunch was confirmed by Foster’s wide smile.

“We haven’t told many, but I wanted you to know.”

“Congratulations.” I pulled him into a hug. “I’m happy for you. Truly.”

With all that he’d endured, losing Talia, the fight to win her back, Foster deserved this happiness.

He clapped me on the back, letting me go. “Thank you.”

“Go home. Check on Talia. You up for a workout tomorrow?”

“Definitely. Nine?”

“I’ll be here.” With a wave, I headed for the door, climbing in the Yukon. Then I breathed a sigh of relief. I wouldn’t have been able to sit through lunch today. Not after talking to Sam. So I took the familiar road toward town, grateful to have a few minutes to shove it aside.

Main Street was crowded with people. Tourist season had arrived in full force and happy strangers crowded the sidewalks. Kids, free from school on summer break, skipped along the blocks, their parents trailing behind.

There was an energy in the air, one that hadn’t been here this winter. Quincy was no longer in hibernation but flourishing along with the rugged countryside. The snow had melted, making way for blooming flowers.

If someone had asked me in January if I’d miss it here, I would have said fuck no. But maybe I’d miss it after all. Of all the places I’d traveled in my life, there weren’t many as captivating as Montana.

Eloise’s car was still parked outside the A-frame when I got home.

I headed inside, dropping my keys and phone on the kitchen island just as she walked out of the laundry room, carrying a full basket. “Hey.”

“Hi.” She was wearing a simple green dress that hit her midthigh. Her feet were bare, showing off her polished toenails. White. This morning they’d been pink.

Her hair was down, the silky strands draping over her shoulders. When she smiled, her blue eyes sparkled like jewels. It was that smile that stopped me in my tracks. She looked at me like watching me come through the door was the highlight of her whole day.

And not that long ago, I’d told Sam how much I liked fucking my wife.

I wasn’t supposed to like that label. My heart wasn’t supposed to stop whenever Eloise walked into the room.

“What’s wrong?” She set the basket down on the couch, coming closer. Her gaze raked over me from head to toe. “Did Foster punch you again?”

“No. It’s nothing.” I shook my head, turning away and walking to the fridge. “Thought you were going to the ranch.”

“I changed my mind. I didn’t feel like driving out there today.”

I took out a Gatorade, twisting off the cap and drinking half in a few gulps. Then I set it down on the counter, staring blankly at the bottle. “Foster announced his retirement today.”

“Oh.” She rounded the island and hopped up on the counter, sitting right beside my drink. “You okay?”

“I knew it was coming.”

Her hand lifted, her fingertips going to my hair. Exactly the way I liked. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

I sighed, leaning into her touch. “The biggest commitment I’ve made in the last decade has been to Foster’s career.”

“What now?” she whispered, voicing the question in my head.

“I don’t know.” I leaned in closer, dropping my forehead to hers.

My entire childhood, I’d been handed a plan. It had been drawn out for me before birth, sculpted from generations of Vale men who had unyielding expectations that their footsteps would be followed.

It hadn’t been as hard as I’d thought to shun those expectations. The criticism, or lack thereof, had been mild. Tolerable.

My parents would have to care to be disappointed.

Those days, I’d embraced the lack of plan. I’d done whatever I’d wanted, whenever I’d wanted. Spontaneity had been an adventure.

It didn’t feel as exciting this time around.

Eloise’s fingers drifted over my face, tracing my cheekbone to my lips. Touching. She was always touching. Just like she was always curled against my side when we slept because apparently she was allergic to her own side of the bed.

I’d miss the touching when this was over. Not so much the cuddling.

“Hey.” She pulled away, giving me a sad smile. “You’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah.” I’d decide when the wedding was over.

“Hungry?” she asked. “I could cook us lunch.”

“Peanut butter and jelly doesn’t count as cooking.” I nipped at her lower lip. And if she was here today, I didn’t want to spend it in the kitchen.

With a quick sweep, I lifted her from the counter.

She gasped, her long legs wrapping around my hips.

“Kiss.”

She dropped her mouth to mine, one arm sliding around my shoulders while the other tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Her eyes drifted closed but I kept mine open, watching as her tongue fluttered against my lower lip.

I’d taught her that flutter.

Two weeks ago, when I’d done the exact move with my tongue against her clit, she’d come apart. Then before she’d drifted off to sleep, she’d said she wished she could do it. So for the past two weeks, we’d practiced.

She had it down now. That flutter was fucking perfect.

I tore my lips away, waiting until she opened her eyes.

“What?” she asked, breathless.

My arms tightened around her, hauling her so close she could feel my arousal. “That flutter is mine. Only mine.”

“Huh?”

I waited, giving her a minute to understand.

No other man got that flutter.

The sparkle in her gaze dimmed, like a sheer curtain had been draped across a window. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Like what?”

“Jas.” She unwrapped her legs, wiggling to be set down, but my hold on her only tightened.

“Promise me, Eloise. Don’t give it to anyone else.”

This was it. In all the vows we’d made, this one was the only one I wanted her to keep.

Her eyes searched mine for a long moment, sorrow creeping into those pretty blue irises, until she nodded. “Promise.”

I slammed my mouth on hers, our tongues twisting. I kissed her with everything I had, marking, claiming, needing to memorize her sweet taste. Then I changed my hold, cradling her with an arm beneath her knees, the other banded around her back as I walked through the cabin, carrying her to the bed we’d share for another month.

The sun streamed through the balcony’s sliding glass door, illuminating the loft. I set Eloise on her feet, and she reached for the hem of her dress, dragging it from her body before I had a chance to strip it free myself.

Her body was a fucking dream, firm but soft in all the right places.

My own clothes puddled on the floor beside hers as she unclasped her bra and shimmied out of her panties.

Then we collided. Mouths. Hands. Skin. When we fell into bed, her legs spread wide. My hips settled into the cradle of hers, and then I slid home.

“Jas.” Her fingernails, also white, dug into the flesh of my shoulders. It wouldn’t take more than a few strokes and she’d come apart. The flutter of her inner walls was as addictive as her tongue.

There was only so much I could demand for myself. Her orgasms were mine, for now. Then she’d give them to another man. Just the thought sent red through my vision, a jealous rage as powerful as any feeling I’d had in months.

I thrust into her body hard, wanting her to remember what it felt like when I fucked her.

“Look at me,” I ordered, my breath hot against her ear.

When I leaned back, her eyes were waiting. I slammed inside of her, all the way to the hilt.

“Remember.” Remember me.

Her hand came to my cheek. “Will you?”

For the rest of my life.