Her cheeks flush a deep crimson and she storms off ahead of me. I chuckle, and follow after, not at all happy about the chafing of thick denim against my dick that’s rock hard and oversensitized. This is her fault. She’s an evil little temptress. Now I’m suffering with the world’s worst case of blue balls all for Luke. Not the first time I’ve been put through hell for him.
After a few minutes and a lot of cold shower thoughts, the incline levels to a small clearing. I study the space, noticing nothing spectacular about it, certainly not worth the hour-long hike it took to get here. Not including the impromptu make-out, which would’ve made the hike perfect if Shy had put out. Prude.
She moves to the far end where there’s a small tree that has no business in this particular forest. The thing is only about six feet tall, its branches drooping with long leaves that from a distance resemble hair. Shyann kneels at the base of the tree and turns to me, motioning for me to come over, before turning back to the small trunk.
What in the hell is she up to now? Nature worship? I internally smack myself upside the head, because staring at the strangely feminine-looking piece of horticulture, I can’t help but feel like I’m on sacred ground.
“What is it?” I jerk my chin to the thing while feeling completely uncomfortable for some godforsaken reason.
“This is a willow tree.”
“Huh—”
“And it’s also my mom.” She peers up at me with a shaky smile. “Gage, this is Annika Jennings.” She turns back to the tree. “Momma . . .” she whispers. “This is Gage.”
I squat down beside her. “You think your mom . . . is a tree?”
It’s possible Shyann’s just as fucked in the head as I am.
Her eyes twinkle with laughter and I force away the warm feeling her happiness evokes in my chest. “No. My mom is buried under this tree.”
“What?” I shoot upright and take a step to the side. “Like, here . . . right here?”
“Yes. She believed that all life came from the earth and, when it ended, should be returned back to it.”
I tuck my hands under my armpits. “So you just . . . tossed her body in a hole? Fuck, and you thought I was ruthless.”
“No, we didn’t just toss her body in a hole. We got a biodegradable coffin.” She turns back to the tree. “Her body will decompose and nourish this tree along with everything around it for . . . gosh”—she picks a wildflower and presses it to her nose—“who knows how long.”
“Why’d you bring me here? You said you wanted to talk. Is this what you wanted to talk about, your dead mom turning into worm food beneath our feet?”
She curls in on herself and I immediately wish I could suck the words back into my mouth, and simultaneously kick my own ass for caring.
“No, I guess I just wanted to trust you with something important.” She feathers her hand over some wild grass. “I’ve never brought anyone up here before. The only people who know she’s here are Cody, my dad, me . . . and now you.”
What the fuck does she expect me to do with that?
“I know you don’t want to trust me, Gage. You want me to prove to you that I’m a danger to Lucas, but you know deep down I’m not. The truth is, I’ve never cared for anyone as deeply as I do him. I know you want me to walk away, to turn my back on you guys and pretend we never met, but I can’t.”
You guys?
There’s a spasm in my chest so powerful I grip my shirt over my heart.
Me and Lucas.
My pulse races as I consider what she’s saying.
“What do you want from us?”
She pushes to stand and my fight-or-flight response flares. For the first time ever, I feel fragile, like thin glass, totally transparent and vulnerable. If she comes too close, touches me, I’ll shatter from the intensity of her concern.
Of course she sees through me and stops, but her eyes, those soul-sucking, life-giving eyes, bore into mine. “I want you to trust me, Gage. I want you to tell me the truth. Was it you that hurt Sam?”
TWENTY-NINE
GAGE
The unease I saw back when she was grilling Luke about the past is back. It flickers in her eyes like a green light giving me the all clear to terrorize her. All this bullshit about trust and she’s still scared of me.
I smirk, irritated and fucking over trying to understand this woman. “Maybe I did.”
She studies me and whatever she sees causes a fraction of her fear to dissolve. “You still don’t trust me.”
“And you don’t trust me. Guess that makes us even.”
“What happened the night your family died?”
I stumble back at her complete one-eighty. I want to let Luke take over. I should let Luke take over. I’ve left him clueless on purpose so that he’ll never have to pay for our crimes. The hideousness of what happened that night is enough to give even the strongest man nightmares.
Luke couldn’t handle it.
“Why?” No, not why. The answer is no. Always no!
“Trust is a two-way street. You’ve got to give me something.”
“Ask Luke.”
“Lucas is . . . confused. He’s lost these huge chunks of his life and—”
“It’s for his own good. The things he doesn’t know would destroy him if he did.”
“You’re not giving him enough credit.”