He thought Silas had his head in the sand, scared to face possible realities, but it wasn’t true.
“You remember those months after the accident?” Silas asked.
Isaiah took a breath and nodded. “Yeah. They were bad.”
A year out from one of the biggest moments in his professional life, he’d decided, on a reckless impulse, to get on an off-highway vehicle known for its lack of lateral stability and crush protection. For his foolishness, he’d sustained a serious rotator cuff injury.
Countless hours of physiotherapy yielded a lot of improvement—he could still shoot—but that wasn’t enough in the world of competitive archery.
“I couldn’t stomach reading industry news for over a year,” Silas said to his brother. “I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to pick up a bow again. But I did. So trust me, I know how to make lemonade out of lemons.”
“I get it, brother,” Isaiah said. “For now, Mountaintop is your sugar.”
“Exactly.”
* * *
Over the weekend, Raven had done a good job of diminishing the relevancy of the little dream she had of Silas, or so she thought. When she arrived at Mountaintop the morning of a new workweek, she had a passing discomfort when she found Silas alone in the break room.
“Would you like some?” Silas asked her, the coffee pot in his hand.
Raven blotted out the image of him taking her against an armoire and said, “Thanks, that’d be great.”
She watched him prepare her mug, surprised when he got her sugar and creamer preferences correct without asking. “You know how I take my coffee.”
“You like an obscene amount of sugar,” he lightly said, handing her the cup. “It’s hard not to notice.”
“Okay, chill, Mr. Judgey. In my defense, the coffee here is shit,” she said, taking a relaxed stance against the counter as he had.
“That’s on you now,” he said. “Actually, where’s that suggestion box you made? I should put in an official request for better coffee.”
She rolled her eyes as he chuckled, and a comfortable moment followed, which Raven was relieved to experience. There’d been a fear in the back of her head that maybe their agreement to be cordial and friendly wouldn’t survive beyond his home. But it seemed like the tension of her early days at Mountaintop was over.
“I used the soap you gave me all weekend,” she said.
Without warning, Silas took a step toward her and inhaled deeply. “It worked. All I smell is oranges.”
The timbre of Silas’s voice reverberated over her exposed skin, and briefly, before he restored the distance between them, Raven regarded his lips. Lush and full. She bet they felt amaz—
“How do you want to go about this?” Raven asked, shoving aside her wayward thoughts.
“About what?”
“Telling the team we’re cordial and friendly now.”
“I thought we could just show them by being cordial and friendly,” he said.
“That would take too long to notice. I want high vibes as soon as possible.”
“Okay,” he said. “What’s your suggestion?”
“We should officially announce it.”
“Like an edict,” he replied.
“It doesn’t have to be all ‘Hear ye! Hear ye!’ Just a casual update when we’re all together.”
“You’re the boss, so do what you think is right,” he said with a lifted hand of surrender.
