The road gave way to a trail, narrower and rougher. We jostled over bumps and dips, the tires kicking up dust and gravel. It should've been frightening, this untamed ride through nature, but with Ashton, fear didn't stand a chance.
Somehow, in the midst of the wild and unpredictable, I'd never felt safer. It wasn't logical, but then, neither was the fierce protectiveness I sensed in him—a promise without words that he'd never let harm come my way.
I closed my eyes, letting go of everything but the sensation of being with Ashton, on this bike, on this trail. It was a freedom I hadn't known I craved, a surrender to the moment that I'd never allowed myself before. With him, I wanted to stay lost forever.
The bike slowed, and the engine cut off, breaking the spell of motion and noise that had enveloped us. Ashton's hands steadied me as I slid from the bike, mylegs wobbling like a newborn fawn's. His thumbs brushed the sensitive skin under my top, a familiar heat blossoming in their wake and spreading outward, a delicious wave through my core. For a moment, all I could do was lean into his touch, my senses overwhelmed by the lingering thrill of the ride and the sudden, intense awareness of him. I took a step away from him, immediately missing the closeness of him
"Is this it?" I asked, scanning the clearing circled by trees, half-expecting to see something more.
"Not quite," he said with a grin that told me he relished the anticipation in my eyes. He took my hand, a solid, reassuring grip, and led me where the motorcycle couldn't go: a narrow trail, barely visible beneath the underbrush.
"A deer path." Ashton nodded toward the ground. "Whitetails come through here to drink from the stream."
My sneakers crunched over fallen leaves and twigs, and I marveled at how Ashton navigated the terrain with such ease, as if every rock and root was familiar to him. We passed the stream he mentioned, its waters whispering secrets as they flowed over smooth stones, the surface catching glimmers of light filtering through the canopy.
Then, without warning, the forest receded, and the world fell away into a vast open sky. The edge of a cliffgreeted us, revealing the Smoky Mountains spread out like a tapestry of green and blue hues, ridges fading into the horizon. My breath hitched, caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. For a moment, there was nothing else, no past worries or future uncertainties, just the mountains stretching endlessly before us, ancient and immutable.
"Whoa. I really couldn't have picked a better place to live." The expanse of beauty rendered each word inadequate.
He chuckled, a sound that blended with the rustling leaves around us. "I'm glad you think so. My family has been tied to this land since the seventeen hundreds." There was a hint of pride in his voice that made me look at him anew.
"Really?" I asked, surprised. The history in his eyes spoke of deep roots and a connection to the earth that my city life had never granted me.
"Yep, they were among the first settlers in this area. They helped shape what it is today." He swept his hand across the view as if presenting me with a gift passed down through generations.
As I absorbed this new piece of Ashton's past, something else caught my eye. I turned around and my gaze landed on a picnic laid out with meticulous care. A blanket spread over the grass, with a basket sitting open and plates neatly arranged beside it. He must havecome here earlier to set it all up, then returned for me. It was an effort that warmed me from the inside out.
For a moment, the thought of wandering back through the dark woods flickered in my mind like a shadow. It dissipated almost instantly, quelled by the trust I felt in Ashton's presence. He wouldn't let anything happen to me; of that, I was certain.
Ashton's hand enveloped mine, warm and steady, as he guided me to the blanket. We settled onto the soft grass, and he reached into the open basket, revealing a treasure trove of neatly wrapped sandwiches. "Turkey, ham, or pimento cheese?" he asked, his eyes crinkling with a smile that said he knew I'd be pleased.
"Can I...?" I eyed both the ham and pimento cheese. Without waiting for an answer, I took one of each, peeled back the layers, and combined them into one hearty sandwich. Ashton watched, eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Never seen anyone do that before," he said, clearly amused.
I shrugged, biting into my custom creation. "Just a little something I came up with. My favorite."
He laughed and followed suit, building his own hybrid sandwich. After taking a generous bite, his expression shifted from curiosity to genuine satisfaction. "I love it." He sounded almost shocked that this strange combination could taste so good.
We ate in contented silence for a while, devouring sandwiches and reaching for chips, cookies, and the colorful array of fruit, hummus, and veggies Ashton had thought to pack. He really had considered every detail.
"Wow, did you bring the complete kitchen with you?" I watched him uncover a second basket, which turned out to be a cooler filled with an assortment of drinks.
"Always be prepared," he said with a wink, offering me a choice between water, tea, sodas, and wine.
"Definitely the wine." I opted for the indulgence now that the immediate danger that had dogged my heels was behind me. "I've never been much of a drinker, but I think I could get used to it." Especially since I didn't need to live on the run anymore.
As we nibbled on the last of the cookies, Ashton's gaze drifted away, lost in a memory. I followed his stare out to the horizon where the sky met the mountains, a canvas of purples and oranges. "My parents," he said in a whisper, "they're not around anymore."
I reached out and placed my hand over his. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," I whispered.
He shook his head, his eyes meeting mine with a depth of gratitude for my understanding and a profound sorrow that seemed to age him in that moment.
"It's okay," he said. "My dad...he died in a fight." He paused, looking for the right words. "There's a lot moreto why he was fighting, but it ended with him losing his life."
The weight of his admission hung in the air between us. I squeezed his hand, trying to offer some comfort. "Your mom?"
"Passed away soon after," he said. "Some say it was from a broken heart."
