Wyn
“Turn down there,”I say, sitting taller. When I caught a glimpse of his tattoo and then saw the airplane overhead, and realized where we were about to pass, I knew it was too perfect not to stop.
Julian pulls off the main road and down an unmarked gravel and dirt road.
It took me most of the drive to work out just leaving the way I had. I’d gotten into the habit of never leaving without office hours and prepping for the next day of class, but it feels good to be swept away for a bit. And I’m relieved that the ride here wasn’t filled with anything more than a few stolen glances and the sound of cars rushing by once I put the windows down.
There are plenty of spots like this in Rumor, forgotten roads and overgrown trails. At the end of this one, I know what we’ll find. The wall of vines and branches that look like they’ve taken over what was once a chain-link fence are the cover or guards to a spot that I haven’t been back to see in far too long.
Hopping down from his Bronco and rounding the front of it, Julian pauses and looks at me like I’ve done something wrong.
“What?” I laugh out nervously. But he just shakes his head quickly, so I ask, “Any chance you have something in here that we can sit on? There’s a nice view behind that thing.” I nod at the long wall of weeds and woods.
“Leading me into the woods feels like this could go one of two ways,” he says, rounding the back of the truck and opening the trunk.
“The two ways being?” I ask, already amused with where I think he’s going with this.
He grabs a small duffel bag and says, “A beautiful woman leading me into a wooded area, who just so happens to have an interesting family with questionable habits, sounds like the beginning of a slasher film.”
I bark out another laugh. “And yet you’re still coming with me willingly. You’re the prepared one,” I tell him, looking down at the bag he’s holding.
He shakes his head. “I’m in the habit of always having an emergency bag. A blanket, change of clothes, snacks, whatever might be useful when I’m on a job.”
I have about a dozen questions about what else is in that bag. We walk about twenty feet down the length of the wall, and I find the cutout I was expecting. When I duck under the low branches and through the parted section of the chain-link fence, I stop and take in the view. It’s as beautiful as I remember. The screeching sound of a small plane landing on the farthest strip of concrete and the whirring of its turbines echoing out across the openlandscape have me feeling relaxed and like I can breathe. “I bet the other way you were thinking it could go wasn’t taking you to see planes fly in and out of a private airfield.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head with an impressed tone. He looks out and around at the open space that wasn’t visible from the road. “I was going to say that maybe you had an unexplored kink for primal play, wanted me to chase you, find you, then...”
I swallow as my cheeks heat. “Then what?”
With a smirk, he lays out the blanket from his bag where I’ve stopped. “Use your imagination, Crowne.”
That’s the problem, though, I don’t allow my imagination to run wild like that. Julian behind me, finding me—Calm down, slow your breathing.The idea should make me feel panicked or triggered, but I don’t. The way Julian says it makes it feel like foreplay.
I yank the sides of my skirt to keep it from riding up as I take a seat on the small plaid blanket. When I look out toward the open airfield on the edge of this hillside, it’s the lightest I’ve felt.
Julian sits down next to me, bending his long legs and draping his arms over them. His leather cuff fastened to his wrist and brushed silver rings adorning a few of his fingers hang casually as he looks at the concrete and painted lines below.
“I’ve been here,” he says quietly. “Flew in down there,” he adds, tipping his head toward the airfield and hangars. “I hadn’t planned on sticking around for long enough to see it from a different angle.”
Everything in my life feels like a different angle now.
It gets quiet enough to listen to the breaks between chirping crickets and the buzzing cicadas. It feels so good—to sit and feel for a minute. To be still and unmoving in a spot that I thought held unimportant memories, realizing now that maybe that’s how most seem at the time, but later, they become an anchor.
I lean back, crossing my feet at my ankles and slipping off my heels. This place has parts of who I was at different times baked into my visits. I look out at the horizon line when I share, “I ran away once when I was just about fifteen. I didn’t know where the hell to go.” I smile. “Stevie found me after about an hour. We sat here for most of the night, sipping on those tiny bottles of alcohol—nips—Birdie stocks them in her curio cabinet.”
He reaches around me to drag his bag closer. Rummaging through it for a moment, he pulls out a small round flask. “No clue what’s in it, but I’m guessing it’ll be reminiscent of those little bottles you chugged.”
I twist open the tarnished silver cap and take a swig. The immediately familiar bite of whiskey hits the tip of my tongue, but it’s the burst of cinnamon that has me instantly coughing. “I had no idea you were a Fireball guy.” I pass him the flask.
The smile on his face when he swallows a sip makes him seem a decade younger. “That would be my dad,” he says with an exhale. “He loved it. Always had a bottle in the freezer.”
He looks out in front of where we’re sitting as the sunset paints the sky varying hues of pinks to oranges. So beautiful. For as much as I wanted space from Rumor, Tennessee, there’s no arguing that it has its moments. This is one of them.
“What are we doing out here?” he asks as he reaches up to brush a piece of hair from my face. The gesture is so innocent and intimate, it makes me shift closer to him.
“It’s just a place,” I say quietly. “One that I forgot all about, but then sometimes I would think about it. When I needed to disconnect from what I was going through, I would think about this spot and . . . escape to for a little bit.” I smile nervously. “I don’t understand what you do to make me feel like I can just let go.” I shake my head, thinking about how passive I’ve been since I’ve been back.
He pushes a piece of hair away from my cheek. “I don’t know either, but—” His attention shifts so his eyes meet mine when he says, “I’ve got you.”
