by Ashley Kay
She takes my hand and runs through the last leg of the forest, dragging me with her. Grinning, I hang on, her hand small in my palm, warm.
Out of breath, she drops my hand and spins around to face me. “Tada!”
We’re at the edge of the forest that butts up to a clearing. Smooth, soft ground becomes rocky, dotted with sticks in all the corners. A river to our left gets wider, expanding into a lake surrounded by pines. The mountains stand regally to the right and the sun is smack dab in the middle and on its way behind the ridge. Remaining in one spot, I’m stunned, my mouth open.
Savy nudges me with her shoulder. “What do you think?”
I’m rendered mute. The colors from the setting sun bleed across the sky in a cascade of oranges, reds, sliding into purples and deep midnight blues. The air, crisp and clean, washes over my skin, the water gurgles softly as it runs into the lake, and all of it fills me with a sense of peace and awe. Maybe all those quacks were right about the cleansing and healing power of nature.
“It’s gorgeous. I’m definitely not in Manhattan anymore.”
I follow her to a spot on the rocks that’s carved out in the shape of a circle. Charred ash in the center denotes it as a fire pit. Big logs strategically placed around it for seating, the bark worn smooth.
Setting her backpack down, she turns to me. “I have a job for you.”
Letting my backpack slide down to the ground, I stretch out my arms. “Lay it on me, sweet cheeks.”
“I need all kinds of sticks; big ones, little ones, you name it, I need it.” She wags her finger at me grinning, “and no, before you say anything, I’m not talking about that kind of stick.”
“I was especially thinking that.” Giving her a salute, I reply, “Aye aye, captain,” and strut away to do my job.
Arms loaded with sticks, I carefully walk back, placing them down next to her. She’s down on one knee, rifling through the bag. “Here you’ll need this.”
I take what looks like a little lighter without a place to flick it on. I turn it upside down and check it, confusion marring my face.
She laughs, taking it from me. “It’s a flint fire starter. Waterproof. Handy if you’re stuck in the woods. You can have this one, I have another. Now, please arrange those sticks so we can start a fire.”
Getting down on my knees, I pick up the sticks. If my memory serves me correctly, I want to have air to fuel the fire, so I make a little teepee out of them.
“Nice. Have you built a fire before?” She pulls off her hat, fluffing out her hair, letting it cascade down her back in glossy waves.
“Nope, took a good guess. I haven’t lit it, so don’t lay the praises on thick just yet.” I hunch down closer to the pit and strike the flint like she showed me, lighting up a piece of kindling. Sliding it into the center, I wait for the stick to light the other pieces of wood. Luckily the wood isn’t too wet and aside from a little smoke, it catches fire.
“Yes!” I turn around to give her a high five. “Ok, now you can lay on the praise.”
She gives me a curtsey and replies in a terrible English accent, “Marvelous job, Sir Preston, we shall not perish in the woods this day.”
“You’re so weird,” I laugh, realizing I haven’t laughed this much with anyone in a long time.
Giggling, she sits down on one log and sifts through the bag. Her hand shoots out with a bag of marshmallows, chocolate bars, and graham crackers.
“Would you believe me if I told you, I’ve never made a s’more?” I say making a face.
She stares at me with her mouth open wide like a guppy. I push her mouth closed with my finger. Opening it again, she says, “You’ve never made a s’more? What the heck. Someone did not culture you enough as a kid. Get over here, you’re making one right now. They’re delicious.”
You’re delicious, Ms. Martin.
She hands me a long, thin stick and shoves two marshmallows on the end. Guiding my hand down to the fire—her small fingers engulfed by my big ones—she shows me how to spin it to get the marshmallows fluffy and golden. Time ticks by and I’ve been staring at her for too long because one marshmallow catches on fire.
“Oh crap! Blow on it!”
I quickly blow out the flaming puffball, grimacing at the charred goo. “I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to look.”
“Nope. Such a rookie…” Shaking her head, she hands me some more marshmallows. This time I roast two perfectly golden ones.
Stacking the marshmallow on top of the chocolate, on top of the graham cracker, and smooshing it together took some finesse, but I did it. Getting it all in my mouth in one go is a complete failure, but hearing Savy’s peal of laughter as I fight with the gooey snack makes it worth it.
A tiny strand of marshmallow sticks to the side of her lips and, with no hesitation, I reach out, swiping it away with my thumb. Bringing it to my lips, I suck off the sticky sweetness, watching as her eyes go round, glowing in the firelight.
Soon, my hands are tangled in her hair, angling her head to crash my lips onto hers, swallowing her surprised gasp. Her fingertips dig into my shoulders, and I pull her onto my lap, never breaking away from her sweet mouth. I run my hands down her back, feeling her arch under each stroke. One flick of my tongue along the seam of her lips—they part, dragging me in and taking me under. I hold her closer, deepening the kiss, the brush of her hard nipples through her clothing scrapes against my chest, and a low groan rumbles past my lips. She’s taking my sanity right to the edge with each slash of her tongue and roll of her hips against mine. I’m straining in my jeans, knowing she can feel my hard-on right through our layers. If we don’t stop now, I’ll be stripping her bare, fucking her in these damn woods like a rutting beast. But the first time with Savy, can’t be here, she deserves better.
The first to break us apart, she rests her forehead against mine, our breaths erratic and shallow. I slide some of her hair out of the way and cup her cheeks, crushing her lips with a swift, hard kiss before releasing her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers shakily.
“Why are you sorry? I should be the one apologizing. I keep mauling your face.”
“I—I think, no, I know, we’re crossing boundaries. This isn’t what friends do, and you said you can’t do relationships. I’m not a friends-with-benefits kind of girl, Preston.”
She shifts to move off of me, but I pull her back. I don’t like the space between us. Wrapping my arms around her, I press a kiss to her head and sigh, letting her sit back down beside me. “I know you aren’t that kind of woman. I enjoy being around you. And, kissing you. But, I’ll stop if that’s what you want.”
She’s hesitant—I can’t blame her. I haven’t given her any solid reason to understand me.
Taking in a deep breath, I open up, take a risk. “I was engaged once. In college. It didn’t work out and ever since, I’ve shied away from any meaningful relationship. It was safer that way,” I murmur.
She stills, then brushes her hair back, staring at the fire. The flames shoot up and lick the sky, casting shadows on her face. Turning back to me, she lifts her hands to cradle my cheeks, stroking my chin with her thumb. “I can understand that more than you know. I like your kisses as well, probably a little too much.”
“I worry I’ll hurt you. You deserve better.”
“What if I don’t see you the way you see yourself?” She forces my eyes to hers. “I think you see yourself as broken or incapable of having or even keeping people around that you care about. That’s far from the truth. You’re not broken, just wounded. Grey hurt you. I can see that in your eyes every time you look at him. I think you miss your brother far greater than you want to admit. You’d rather hold on to your anger toward him and push people away than let go. Your anger is burning you both to the ground. Soon there will be nothing left but ash. You’re full of passion, and you love hard, which means when someone hurts you, you feel it intensely. A lot of what weighs you down, cowboy, isn’t even yours to carry—especi
ally alone. My mom used to remind me of that often when I took on too much of the world.”
Scooting closer, we were thigh to thigh, the heat from her seeping through my jeans. “I also hear what you’re saying. My marriage failed, and I blamed myself for so long. For something that was out of my control. I’m finally seeing that it wasn’t only me. Brody and I just didn’t fit together anymore. It would have ended no matter what, and I can’t let that stop me from finding happiness again. Convincing myself of that is easier said than done.”
She grabs my hand, squeezing it tight. “Brody left me for someone else because I couldn’t give him what he wanted—what I wanted.”
I face her, waiting with bated breath for her to go on.
“I can’t have kids. I’m infertile, or so the doctors tell me. We tried for five years, but nothing happened. He didn’t want to adopt or try treatments, so I fell into a depression. Coming here to SoS helped me climb out of it. I feared judgment, even though it was irrational. I felt inferior. I had floated through life and past relationships without giving all of myself to any of them—holding back because of that fear. Fear that I wouldn’t be worthy enough.” Her eyes well up, tears clinging to her long lashes, and it breaks me.
I inhale sharply. Her eyes are full of pain and my chest caves. I want to take all her insecurities and sadness and shove it down Brody’s throat for what he did to her.
Growling, I grip her chin, bringing her face close to mine. “Savy, he clearly wasn’t man enough to see what he had in front of him.” Softening my fingers, I move them to her cheeks, swiping away a tear. “I’m so sorry he wasn’t supportive of you. You’re not a lesser person because of it. You’re amazing, I hope you see that, because I do.”
She leans into my hands. “I’m better now. Just took a while to get there. I used to cry every time I’d see a post about a high school friend getting pregnant or a birth announcement. Now, I’ve accepted that any future children, if I get any, will come to me differently, but would still make me a mother. Even seeing Theo when he was a baby would send me spiraling, but over time those feelings lessened.” The curve of her smile on my fingers is gentle.
“My mother couldn’t have any more children after Grey and I. She would cry and cry every month and I never really understood why until I got older. It took her some time too, but then she threw her whole heart into us boys and came out stronger.”
Her eyes sear into mine. “Thank you. For listening and understanding. It means a lot.”
I hold her hand that’s now on my face with my own. Her touch is calming and her sweet nature and ability to make anyone feel safe is more clear now. She’s strong and fierce and wildly witty. I haven’t laughed around someone in a long time, I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be free.
“Thank you.” I wish after her telling me all that, I could tell her everything—about Greyson and that awful night at Columbia. I don’t know if she’d understand once she knows everything. And for now, I just want to hold her and enjoy this moment.
“For what? I psychoanalyzed you and spilled my guts. I have no degree to back that up, so if you want to dispose of me now, we’re in the perfect place to do it.”
I chuckle. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about disposing of a body out in the wilderness, and I’d never do that to you. You’d come back to haunt me, and ghosts freak me out, so no thanks.”
Shifting on the log, I turn to her. “Thank you for being honest about your struggles and about Greyson. And for not viewing me as some monster.” If only I could be one hundred percent truthful about my past. I’m such a coward, but reliving that night … is something I want to avoid for as long as I can. Feeling guilty, I swing my gaze away from her.
She snuggles closer, her arms wrapping around my waist, and we stare into the crackling fire. No more words or truths spilled. I hold her tighter, believing if I do, she’ll never want to leave.
Eventually the fire dies down—the sun has long since set. Our breaths blow out in puffs and my fingers go numb. We pack up our belongings and smother the fire with some water from the lake. Walking in the quiet, dark forest, with only minimal light from our flashlights is creepy, and as much as I’d like to be the macho guy here, I’d gladly hand over the responsibility of killing any predator that goes bump in the night to Savy. I’d only end up angering the beast by trying to talk it down with my charming demeanor.
We make it back to the house in one piece, thankfully. Stepping over the broken step, we stand in front of our respective doors. The silence, once comforting, wavers in the air, uncertain like after a first date. I rock back and forth on my heels, staring off to the side, my hands stuffed deep in my pockets.
She finally gets up on her tippy toes and kisses me gently on my stubbled cheek. “Thanks for going with me, I had a lot of fun.”
“You’re welcome. Me too, Montana.” I reply as she slips into her house and softly closes the door.
12
SAVANNAH
Today’s a day I used to dread in part every year. Not now. It’s a day of celebration, honoring a life that meant so much to so many. It’s the anniversary of my mother’s death and my twin sisters’ twentieth birthday. For years, I’d hide out in my room, burying myself under the covers, only coming out to have cake and ice cream with my siblings, then running back to my cozy, safe cave. No one could hurt me there.
Eventually, my dad would come in sometime later in those evenings to coax me out. He’d share stories about my mom and most of them were from her reckless teenage years, and I’d double over giggling. Poor dad, my mom gave him a run for his money. They were childhood friends that blossomed into a love I envied. I met Brody a few summers after her death and he, along with my dad, helped heal the hole in my heart where she lived. There’s still a hole, but it’s tiny and the band-aid is strong.
Brody, understanding pain himself, was a comfort in the darkest time of my life. He had lost someone close too, and although it wasn’t a parent, the pain still cut deep. We were inseparable for years, growing closer after graduation, and finally, we married in college. It was blissful—he was my sweetheart. And then he wasn’t. It was the second darkest time of my life, and I needed my family more than anything. We started a tradition from then on to honor our mom and to learn to live our lives happily, like she would have wanted.
The sun shines brightly through my front windows, casting warm ribbons of light across the floor.
Hi momma.
I smile. She’s looking down, telling us she can’t wait to spend the day with us, even from afar.
Peeking my head out of my window curtains, knees on my couch cushions, I thank the heavens for the sunbeams. They warm my face gently through the windowpane and I close my eyes. The sound of a door shutting breaks me out of my hazy trance.
Preston walks down the steps, purposefully avoiding the broken step, and heads to where I assume is work. A zing of arousal zips through my belly. He looks so sharp in a suit. He doesn’t wear a jacket given the short distance, and it gives me a second to check out his tight backside before he’s too far away.
God, he looks so good—you did well on that one.
The hike I took him on is one I’ll remember. He’s different from anyone I’ve ever met. Montana affords me many things, but I lack experiences out of this state. Preston brings the swagger of the city and mixes it with the freedom of the west. And his kisses. Oh boy, his kisses are so hot and so capable of breaking my heart. I had to take out my frustrations last night under the sheets by myself because he won’t leave my head.
Sorry, mom, don’t mind me checking out and obsessing over my sexy neighbor.
Taking in a deep breath, I try to remember what day it is and why it matters. Never mind that I’m also talking to my dead mother.
I pull into the parking lot to meet my family at my mom’s favorite place to eat breakfast, a little hole in the wall pancake house where they would go on dates as teens.
“Savy,” my sisters chime toge
ther, their voices high pitched and happy. I’m soon sandwiched between the two, trying to peer around the curtain of honey blonde hair that’s sticking to my face. I turn to each cheek, giving them a kiss.
“Hi Mais, hi Mabel. I’ve missed you guys. Happy birthday, welcome to your twenties. Don’t expect too much, it’s all downhill from here.” They both giggle simultaneously and squeeze me again.
Untangling themselves from me, we join Micah, whom is already in the booth, looking over the menu even though he orders the same thing every time: bacon, eggs, toast, and pancakes. Men and their appetites. Who am I kidding, I got that too.
He slides out of the booth to give me a hug, enveloping me in his arms. “Hey, sis.”
I’ve missed them so much. Everyone’s so busy, it’s hard to get together other than on holidays and today. While we wait for dad, we talk about what all we’ve been up to.
Maisie swings her long hair over her shoulder and scrolls through her phone, glancing up to at least talk to my face. “Not a lot. Classes are going well mostly. It’s almost spring break, I’m so ready for that.”
“You have plans?” I ask as I sift through the coffee creamer. Hazelnut sounds good, another one of mom’s favorites.
Mabel pipes up, “We’re planning to go out to Cali, maybe stop by and visit with Micah and his new girlfriend.” She wiggles her blonde eyebrows at him. He tosses a napkin at her, his brown eyes narrowing in irritation.
I spin towards him, gasping, “Girlfriend? Who is she? When did this happen? Why haven’t you told me?” I fire off in succession.
He shrugs. “Because of this, the third degree you always give me about any girl I see.”
“It’s not a third degree, it’s sisterly love and curiosity,” I pout.
Rolling his eyes, he divulges, “I work with her at the magazine. She writes for the fashion column. We ran into each other while getting coffee one morning and hit it off. Her name is Sienna. She’s beautiful and intelligent.” He blushes, hiding his face behind the menu.
