“Yes, ma’am.” Torquing the handlebar, I rev the engine and take off to the sound of her delighted, unguarded laughter. I will replay that sound in my mind for years to come, cherishing it like a precious keepsake because every single one of her smiles, every laugh, is a precious gift.
I take it slow until we get to the end of her drive, but as soon as we turn onto the two-lane country road, I open the throttle. The tires hum against the sun-warmed asphalt as the motorcycle roars down the rural winding road, the verdant countryside unfolding in a blur around us, like a living postcard.
Elizabeth leans in slightly at the first curve, and I steal a glance at her reflection in the side mirror. The ends of herhair fly wild in the wind, the loose strands dancing like golden ribbons in the breeze, but it’s the carefree smile on her face that paints the most beautiful picture.
“God, I love this,” she says through the mic. I experience a moment of panic when one of her hands releases its grip around my waist, and she plays her fingers through the fast-rushing air. “Ryder and I would go for long drives and flip a coin to decide which direction to turn. We got lost a lot doing that. But those times were the best because we discovered so many new places we never knew existed. It’s amazing how you can live almost your entire life somewhere and miss out on so much because you never knew it was there.”
It takes a half hour to get to the Montgomery estate, but instead of passing through the iron gates and traveling up the private drive to the house, I circumvent the property and come in from the south along an unmarked dirt road that doesn’t show up on any map.
“I don’t recognize anything. Where are we?” Elizabeth asks when I ease the bike under the shade of a giant sweetgum.
“This is the back of the property. The house is about a half mile that way,” I reply, pointing in the general direction.
“We’re at the Montgomery place?”
I debated about bringing her out here, not wanting to rekindle bad memories about Peter. Right before I left, I had the pond where his body was dumped filled in—erased that motherfucker from existence so that he could never be found—and let nature retake the new earth and do with it as she wished. I don’t go near that part of the estate anymore.
“If you want to leave?—”
Reading my thoughts, she immediately interjects, “That night doesn’t define either of us. And as you well know, I’ve been at the house on numerous occasions to see Aurora and Trevorand Knox and Butch. Cookouts, birthday parties. Would you like for me to continue?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I wait for her to dismount before I engage the kickstand, and I immediately miss the feel of her wrapped around me. Her pert nose scrunches as she fumbles with the clasp for the helmet. Christ, she’s adorable. I gently move her hands out of the way and do it for her.
“Thanks.”
I can’tnotstare when she bends over at the waist, then arches back up, tousling the wavy locks of her hair. Snagging her by the waistband of her yoga capris, I roughly haul her to me and kiss the shit out of her. Because I can now.
“Jesus, Fallon,” she breathes, eyes glazed and lips gorgeously kiss-swollen.
I brush my nose across her soft cheek. “How are you at climbing?”
“Like rock climbing?”
“Kind of.”
“Kind of?” she replies with an incredulous lilt.
“Sure. Let’s go with that.”
A soft, airy laugh escapes her lips when I take her hand, her fingers threading through mine as if they’ve always belonged there.
Chapter Twenty
ELIZABETH
The Treehouse
I’ve never seenthis part of the Montgomery estate. It’s much different from the lush, manicured landscaping of the grounds that surround the house. It’s a world of untouched deciduous forests with tall, massive trees that appear to touch the sky.
“No hints to where we’re going?” I step carefully over a tangle of roots, wishing I had worn tennis shoes instead of sandals.
A small, knowing grin teases the corners of Fallon’s mouth. “Nope.”
The intertwining canopy above shields everything from the intense summer sun and provides relief from the oppressive heat, but small trickles of sunlight do get through here and there, dappling the forest floor in shifting patterns like a kaleidoscope mosaic. Spying some honeysuckle climbing up one side of a tree, I pluck off one of its yellow trumpet flowers and tuck it behind my ear.
