Long Road Home

by Marie Meyer

  Pulling the stick from the fire, I bring it close to my face, watching the flames transform the gooey sugar into a black, sooty char. When it’s sufficiently blackened, just the way I like it, I purse my lips and blow, extinguishing the blaze.

  “If I had known you like to eat charcoal, I would have packed a few briquettes for you,” Cayden teases, his breath in my ear sending shivers down my back.

  “Ha. Ha. Very funny. I like my marshmallows toasty.”

  “That is more than toasty, Ren, it’s dead.”

  Suddenly, his arms cinch around me and he pulls in a deep breath. I’m sure his mind has settled back on the loss of his mom. “It’s okay to think about her.” I rub his arms, trying to ward off his sorrow.

  He remains quiet.

  “When I was a little girl, in the summer, my parents sent me to Girl Scout camp. At dusk, right before we’d go home, all the Daisy Scouts would gather around the campfire, roast marshmallows, and sing songs.” My hope is that one of my childhood stories might help him feel better. “The first time I toasted a marshmallow, I stuck it in the fire, near the top, turning it a golden, toasty brown. When I ate it, I thought it was the most disgusting thing I’d ever tasted. I didn’t understand what all the hype was about.”

  Cayden readjusts, shifting me on his lap, holding me tighter, but keeps quiet, listening. “I saw one of my friends turn hers into a torch. If marshmallows weren’t good to eat, they sure looked like a lot of fun to burn. I stuck a second one in the fire, until it went up in flames. One of the other girls dared me to eat it. I slapped that sucker between a piece of chocolate and a graham cracker so fast, and popped it into my mouth. I’ve burned my marshmallows ever since. There’s something delicious about the bitter tang of the charred marshmallow and how it masks the sweetness of the melted chocolate. Such a wonderful dichotomy.”

  “It’s a lot like life and death,” Cayden mumbles. “The sting of death, masking the sweetness of life.”

  “Or maybe their relationship is more complementary,” I challenge. “You have to savor them together. By itself, the burned marshmallow is bitter and hard to stomach, but with the chocolate, it’s easier to digest. The bitterness of death will always bring out the sweetness of life.”

  A sharp, cool wind blows through our little campsite, exciting the fire. It crackles, the flames licking higher in the sky.

  “I don’t know, but I’ll take your word for it,” Cayden says, his thoughts far away.

  We sit quietly for a long time, staring into the yellow blaze, embracing the sweetness of each other’s arms in the wake of so much bitter loss.

  * * *

  Cayden pulled his truck into Taz’s backyard, near our campsite, so we could store our food and belongings out of the reach of the local wildlife. Tossing the picnic basket into the back of the truck, I shut the door and turn around, a scowl on my face. “Why are you making me do this?”

  “Because we’re sharing our family traditions, remember. A midnight swim always comes after s’mores. And we had a deal.” He kisses my nose and then bends down, pulling his swim trunks out of his bag.

  Silently cursing him and his family traditions, I unzip my bag and rifle through, looking for my bikini top and bottom. It’s bright pink, it should be easy to spot, even in the low light of the campfire. I pull out underwear, T-shirts, a bra, a box of condoms (never leave home without them!), shorts, bug spray, deodorant, my toothbrush, toothpaste, and a hairbrush. Everything I need for a camping trip…everything except a damn swimsuit.

  My bag empty, the contents in a heap on my lap, I look up at Cayden who’s already changed. My mouth goes dry…but not my other parts. Cayden is bare chested, sporting a pair of low-slung navy-blue board shorts. The V-shaped muscles on his sides, taper to a point just below the drawstring of his trunks, along with the dark line of hair that travels from his navel and lower.

  “Ren? What’s wrong?”

  I snap my mouth closed, realizing it’s a wide-open flytrap. “Umm…” Words, Ren. Speak words. Words are a lot easier to come by when all of Cayden’s muscles aren’t illuminated in the glow of firelight. Holy hell, is he hot! “I don’t…” I avert my gaze from Super-friggin’-man, to the pile on my lap. It’s safer. “I forgot my suit,” I mumble.

  I see his face in my peripheral vision. “Well, this midnight swim just got a hell of a lot more interesting,” he snickers.

  Turning my head, I nail him with a death glare. “What do you mean?”

  “Looks like we’re going skinny-dipping, sweetheart,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.

  Taking handfuls of my clothes, he starts stuffing them back into my bag. “This is gonna be fun.”

  “Says who?” I growl through clenched teeth. “I swear to God, Cayden Sinclair, if anything touches me in that water, I will scream bloody murder.”

  Cupping my cheeks, he kisses me, despite the savage grimace on my face. “Nothing will touch you, Ren. I promise.” My lips soften. “But, I can’t promise, I won’t touch you.”

  His tongue pushes beyond the seam of my lips, pressing against mine. “Trust me,” he breathes into my mouth. My eyes close and I relax into him, opening to kiss him back.

  “Ready?” he whispers.

  “No,” I murmur.

  “Yes, you are!” Cayden takes my hand and yanks me up, all the stuff on my lap, falling to the ground. Glancing at the mess, he notices the box of condoms, and picks it up, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t plan on sleeping tonight?”

  I shrug. “Depends on what your definition of ‘sleeping’ is.”

  “Ren Daniels, you are too much.”

  Together, we pick up the rest of my belongings and hand in hand, we make our way to the river. Cayden shines the flashlight ahead of us and helps me down the hill.

  The sound of trickling water becomes more noticeable the farther we get away from the safety of Taz’s backyard. “Cayden, will you be able to find the way back? Because I’m lost.” The forest around us is pitch black, dense, and looks exactly the same in all directions.

  Shifting his gaze upward, he says, “See that bright star right there? The brightest one in the sky?” He points.

  I follow his eyes toward the break in the canopy of trees. There is a bright, twinkling star. “Yeah.”

  “That’s Polaris, the North Star. At Taz’s, that star was to our backs. On our way back, we need to travel a southern route.”

  The woods are noisy, screeches, hoots, buzzes, whines, rustling leaves. I have no desire to come across a single creature that makes any of those noises and Cayden’s confidence in star navigation doesn’t bolster my confidence. “Not to call into question your celestial navigation prowess, but I was hoping for a more precise means of locating the house. You wouldn’t have a GPS with you, or anything, huh?”

  He holds up his phone. “You’re safe, Ren. I won’t let anything happen to you. Please trust me.”

  I do trust you, Cayden. I trust you so much, that I gave you my body, my soul, and my heart.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Cayden

  “This is it.” The slow-moving river runs a couple feet in front of us, down a shallow embankment. Darkness swallows everything. I’ll have to keep Ren close.

  Apprehension rolls off her in waves. I know she’ll love swimming at night, in the dark, once she gives it a try. I wouldn’t push her if there were any danger. This part of the river is so tame. “When I was a boy, this was my favorite part of camping. There’s nothing like getting in the water when you’re surrounded by darkness. Your senses are heightened, adrenaline is pumping—such a rush.” I grab the hood at the back of her sweatshirt, pulling her closer. “I’ve never been skinny-dipping,” I whisper into her ear.

  Her breath hitches.

  I drop my shorts and walk bare assed toward the river, hoping none of Taz’s neighbors have a midnight swim on their agenda. If I get busted for skinny-dipping, I can kiss SWAT goodbye for real this time. But damn if the idea of Ren’s wet, naked body doesn’t
have me pushing the limits of the laws I’m meant to uphold.

  My feet sink in the mud at the bank as I step into the cool water. “This would be a lot more fun with you, Ren,” I call over my shoulder, knee deep in dark water.

  “Is it cold?” she asks.

  Pushing off the river bottom, I propel my entire body into the water. Holding my breath, I dive under, swimming against the light current. The water’s glorious, cool, and refreshing. The only thing that would make this better is Ren at my side.

  I break the surface of the water and whirl around, spotting Ren on the bank, a little closer to the water. “Babe, the water’s great! Get your ass in here!”

  “Are there critters?”

  I swim in her direction. She’s going to need a little help. Walking out of the water, I notice Ren’s eyes roaming over every inch of my body. And I love every fucking second of it.

  Stomping through the reeds and tall grasses, I stop in front of her. “It’s not Loch Ness, Ren. Nothing is going to hurt you. Do you trust me?” I ask.

  She nods, dread and panic in her eyes.

  “I need to hear it. Do you trust me?”

  Clearing her throat, she mumbles a weak, “Yes.”

  “Good. Remember, you’re in control. Always.” I grab the bottom of her sweatshirt and pull it over her head in one motion, tossing it by my shorts. “Still trust me?”

  “Yes,” she says a little more confidently.

  “Nothing is going to hurt you. I’m here.” Unhooking her bra, I drag the straps over her shoulders, my fingers skimming over the sides of her gorgeous breasts.

  Ren sucks in a breath.

  “Swim with me, baby.” Desire strangles my words. My dick throbs, aching for her touch.

  Lowering her shorts and panties, she steps out of them. She is naked and so fucking gorgeous. It takes all my strength not to lower her to the grass and bury myself inside her.

  I extend my hand toward her and she slips her palm against mine. “Okay”—she sucks in a huge gulp of air—“let’s do this.”

  Leading her toward the water, she hesitates where the water laps the bank. “It’s okay, Ren. I promise.” With the next step, mud squishes between her toes and she cringes. “You’re in control,” I remind her.

  Another step, and she’s in the water, ankle deep. “Oh!” she gasps, smiling. “It’s cold.”

  “Keep going, it’ll warm up.”

  Pressing farther, we’re both up to our knees. Ren lets go of my hand and sinks into the water, going under. My lips curl into a wide grin, so proud of her, overcoming her fear.

  I lower myself, letting the water lap at my ears, waiting for her to resurface.

  She pops up with a gasp. “Oh, whoa! This is awesome!”

  “See, I told you. And I have to say; being naked makes it even better. Thanks for leaving your suit at home.” I wink.

  “You bet.”

  The river flows past us, taking with it all the shit of the last two months: denied promotions, cancer, nightmares of the past, death. In here, the world is forgotten; it’s the water, Ren, and me…us—what matters the fucking most.

  Ren swirls around about a foot away, her head bobbing on the surface.

  “So, this isn’t your first time camping, huh? You said earlier you went to Girl Scout camp?”

  “Yeah, but it was hardly camping. We didn’t spend the night, or go midnight swimming. Crafts, s’mores, sang songs, went home. That’s it.” She raises her arms out of the water and circles around. “This is the real deal.” Overhead, an owl hoots, right on cue. “See.” She raises an eyebrow, pointing upward.

  “No owls at Girl Scout camp?”

  “Probably not even bunnies. Daisy Scouts was my mother’s attempt at to ‘harness’ my energy. I gave my parents, and countless teachers, a run for their money. You were a reckless kid, I was Dash from The Incredibles.”

  I swim toward her, hating that I’m not touching her. Looping my arms around her middle, Ren brings her hands down, splashing as she grabs hold of mine. “Dash?”

  “I was unstoppable,” she says, giggling. “I moved so fast, all my childhood pictures are blurry.”

  Roaring with laughter, I nuzzle her neck, kissing right below her ear. “And a Daisy Scout? That is the damn cutest thing I’ve ever heard of.”

  She leans her head back against my shoulder, staring up at me. “I was a Brownie, too.”

  “With all your scouting experience, I’m surprised you haven’t made your peace with the outdoors.”

  Rolling her eyes, she scoffs. “I may have been a scout for many years, but I will never get over my hatred of creepy crawling things.”

  God, I love her body pressed against mine, smooth and wet. “Well, you may not be a scout anymore, but I know what you are now.”

  “What?”

  “Mine.” The curve of her ass melds perfectly to me, my cock pressing right between her legs. I grab a handful of her ass. “And fucking gorgeous.”

  Ren spins around, her eyes are wide and dark, and my heart stutters, twisting and reshaping itself to enclose her inside.

  “Cayden,” she says.

  My name hangs between us, an unfinished sentence. She stares. I know how she feels, wanting to say so much, but not having enough words to articulate the exact emotion.

  Want consumes me, and I crush my mouth to hers. Ren opens to me immediately, pushing her tongue against mine, snaking her hands around my shoulders and up my neck, latching them behind my head.

  I keep my feet rooted on the riverbed as Ren anchors her body to mine, wrapping her legs around my backside. She moans against my mouth when my dick slides between her legs and she bucks her hips, repeating the motion, taking her pleasure.

  The water laps around us as Ren rocks her body against me. Fuck. Fuck. “God, Ren, I want you so bad,” I moan. “Let me inside you,” I beg, ready to lose my shit.

  She continues grinding and my head spins. “Baby.” Putting my hands under her ass, I pull her higher on my body. My cock is right at her opening. I could so easily slip inside. I thrust, nudging against her. “Please…”

  “Cayden,” she groans, “we don’t have anything.” Openmouthed, our tongues tease. I lick mine over hers and suck her bottom lip into my mouth.

  “I’m clean, baby. I was tested when I got back from overseas.”

  Ren stills in my arms, her heavy-lidded eyes focusing on mine. There’s a pleading in her eyes I’ve never seen before…and fear. “I want you inside me, Cayden, but I need you to wear a condom. I just…I can’t without.”

  I brush my hand over her head, loathing the fear that clouds her face. I don’t want there to be any fear, not between us. “It’s okay. I can wait.”

  “Thank you.”

  I know this fear stems from her nightmare three years ago, and it slays me that I wasn’t there to protect her from that monster. “You’re in control, Ren. Always.”

  She unlatches her legs from my waist, setting her toes into the mud. “Why don’t we head back to camp, rip open that box of condoms, and finish what we started?”

  “Yes, fucking, please.” I give her a quick, hard kiss, grab her hand, and together, we run for dry ground.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Ren

  Mmmm… Cayden’s body is so warm. I wiggle my butt against him and snuggle closer, not wanting to give up our splendid little existence. God bless the person who invented the king-size sleeping bag. Flexing and pointing my toes, I rub them against Cayden’s, loving how splendidly sore my body is. He flexes, tightening his grip on me, and between my legs, he rises, again.

  “Cayden?” I whisper. “Are you awake?”

  “Mmm…” he grumbles, giving his hips a little thrust.

  What kind of answer is that? In the confined space of our tandem sleeping bag—which was not designed for a man Cayden’s size—I manage to twist my body around, so I can see his face.

  All that glorious scruff darkening his jawline…perfection. I lay my hand on his
cheek, feeling the scratch of his whiskers on my palm. Heat blooms between my legs. The corner of Cayden’s lips pull up, but he keeps his eyes closed.

  “Somebody’s warm”—he rasps, sliding me closer—“and wet.”

  I squirm against him. “And look who’s hard.”

  Cayden’s dick twitches between my legs and his eyes pop open. “Morning wood, baby. He’s just not used to you being this close to someone who can to take care of it, and he’s loving it.”

  “Is that right?” Propping myself up on my elbow, I lean over his shoulder, and reach for one of the foil wrappers littering the bottom of the tent. Last night, when I said we should rip into the box, that’s exactly what Cayden had done.

  Snatching the wrapper between my index finger and middle finger I lift it up and see something move out of the corner of my eye.

  My heart kicks up a notch, and it’s not because Cayden is teasing me with his hard-on. I glance down toward the bottom of the tent and see it, a giant, hairy spider…the size of my fucking hand!

  Paralyzed with fear, I can’t move. I saw that horror movie, Arachnophobia, if I don’t do something quick, that damn thing will end up killing us both.

  “Umm…Cayden?” I say, as calmly as possible, knowing that if I scream, Cayden will be up faster than a cardiac patient receiving nitroglycerine, and that thing will attack. “Don’t move.”

  He stops rubbing his dick between my legs. “Why? Am I not hitting the right spot?” Getting a firm hand on my hip, he readjusts and resumes his gyrations.