No.
I follow him out of the room, down the hall, and back to the car, and I don’t say a word, like the fucking coward I am.
I can tell myself that the timing is wrong, or that I’m still processing, but the truth is, I don’t say anything, because I don’t want to. And that, above everything else, is the most selfish thing I’ve ever done.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Dahlia
The city disappears behind us,swallowed by trees and winding roads that narrow with every mile.
I watch the landscape change through my window. Buildings give way to forest. Paved roads turn to gravel. The signs, what few there were, start to vanish.
We’re off the beaten path now. Way off.
I shift in my seat, hyper-aware of how isolated we’re becoming. There are no streetlights. No other cars. No people at all. Trees press in from both sides, and the windy road we’re on feels like it’s leading to nowhere.
Echo pulls up to a gate and hops out of the car to unlock it. As I watch him, I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
What am I doing?
No, seriously, what the fuck am I doing?
Not running away as soon as I realized how he felt about me was bad enough, but letting him take me somewhere private, knowing full well that my rational brainstops functioning every time we’re alone, is completely unhinged.
Echo slips back into the car and glances at me. “Almost there.”
I nod and give him a tight smile.
He drives up a long dirt road, and as we round a bend, the trees open up, revealing a lake that’s so pristine and so blue it doesn’t even look real. There’s a wooden dock stretching out over the water, weathered and slightly uneven, and beyond it, nothing but lush trees and open sky as far as I can see.
Echo parks his car off to the side and cuts the engine.
I stare through the windshield, taking it all in. The water. The trees reflected on its surface. The complete and utter absence of anyone else.
“What is this place?” I ask quietly.
“Come see for yourself.”
Echo steps out of the car and leads us to a wooden bench near the shore. He takes a seat, and for a second, I stand there awkwardly behind him, not knowing what to do.
I know we’ve just spent the last few hours in close proximity, but after everything that’s happened, something about the contrast between the limited space on the bench and the open scenery around us makes sitting next to him feel way more intimate.
I’m about to stick to standing when I notice Echo shift. He’s trying to be subtle about it, but at 6’6, I don’t think anything he does goes without notice.
Echo slides to the very edge of the bench, so much so, that I’m pretty sure the edge of it is digging into his right ass cheek.
I shake my head.
Only Echo would risk a splinter in his ass just to make me feel less awkward about sitting next to him.
I hate how well he works around me. How he adjusts. He has this innate ability to anticipate my needs before I can even recognize them, let alone verbalize them.
He gets me, but he shouldn’t.
I take a seat on the other edge of the bench, close my eyes, and listen. To the rustling of leaves. To the soft lapping of water against the shore. To my own breathing, finally slowing.
“What are we supposed to be doing here?” I ask, opening my eyes to look at him.
