Page 109 of Where We Ended

NATTY

PRESENT DAY

Silas didn’t drive us to the Stone Riders property, or to The Death Raiders. We drove back to Rose Ridge, but instead of pushing through the town, we ended up on the outskirts, near the water treatment plant. We drove a ways out until we entered a vast orchard that I had always assumed belonged to one of the wealthier families in Rose Ridge. The space stretched along the ridgeline of the top of the canyon, where the sun hit the hill the most.

I’d never walked among the trees, but I heard the owner of the bakery mention the varying fruit that grew here, and how delicious it all was. We maneuvered path after path, trees at every turn, making it almost dizzying, until Silas took a slight turn, almost imperceptible in the dark. I perked up because it felt very private, like we were suddenly traveling down someone’s personal drive that would soon lead to a house.

Nerves gnawed at my stomach as I waited to see a glow, or something that indicated where we were headed. Silas slowed his bike as the moon guided our approach to a small, brick house. There were no lights, so it was hard to make out all the details, but with the pitched roof, it gave the appearance of a cottage.

The bike stopped, and Silas pushed down his kickstand. The quiet of the night seemed to stretch around us like a bubble, holding in all the horrors we’d just seen…and done.

Silas twisted the smallest bit as he turned to help me off the bike. Once we were standing, his hand in mine, he led me toward the entrance. The single-story house was hidden within the orchard, like we’d finally found our version of the wardrobe we once hid inside. Our own little Narnia.

The porch was wide and enclosed as we maneuvered the steps, and gently entered through the screen door. It shut with a whisper behind me as Silas produced a key and my heart seemed to kickstart. Without even a glance over his shoulder, he pulled me inside.

The house smelled like lemon, the sweet kind, and when Silas clicked on a lamp, I realized why.

He had glass bowls of lemons scattered around the house.

His hand remained over mine as we walked along pine floors, and I inspected the white walls, trimmed with the same wood that ran below our feet. My eyes soaked up the small circular table off to the right with four chairs around it. To the left was a generously sized bookshelf that held all familiar books I remembered being stuffed inside a baby blue dresser. Silas had used his closet for his minimal wardrobe, but his dresser was saved for his prized collection.

I stepped closer, seeing on the shelves framed photos of me scattered between groups of books. Me, bent over a butcher block counter, rolling out dough while working at The Drip. Me, smiling at the sky while standing in a lake. Me, laughing at something while the sun caught in my hair, outside the library.

He’d taken all these images of me when I didn’t even know he was watching…and then he’d framed them and put them in his house. My throat felt tight as I slipped my fingers over another image of me in a red dress, making a funny face while pointing at Laura. It was outside The Hollow, after one of her shows.

God, how many moments had he stolen and bottled up here, like these random lemons scattered along the shelves in glass jars and vases. I traced a rock that we’d found in the grove one time that we both said had fallen from space. My eyes watered as I touched the leather reading chair and ottoman perched in front of it. The closer I got to the chair, the more I could smell my husband’s scent of leather, campfire and spice.

“You live in a cottage.” My voice was barely audible as we passed under a rounded arch that led to the kitchen, and a larger living room. He had a television, soft accent rugs, a large hearth, and a comfortable looking couch.

Silas trailed his hand down the length of my arm, which had me moving toward the back of the house. He flicked on another lamp and a bedroom materialized. A king-sized bed with dove gray bedding and white throw pillows, a beautiful rustic headboard, and two side tables that matched with bedside lamps.

I stepped inside a bit farther and then Silas clicked another light, but the space above me began to glow, which had me tipping my head back. Green vines ran along the length of the ceiling, intermixed with glowing lights, which made it look like something from a movie. It was vastly more elaborate than anything I’d ever put up myself. The vines were beautifully braided into cohesive columns, with white flowers woven into each strand, and the shimmering lights were more expensive than any that I had ever used.

“Silas.” The air rushed out of my chest as I began to inspect the full scope of what he’d created.

A masterpiece.

“When you were traded to the Stone Riders, I nearly killed Simon Stone,” Silas muttered quietly while tossing his phone and keys on the small bedside table. I turned and watched him as he removed his shoes and set them inside a generously sized closet.

When he glanced at my feet, I realized I should do the same.

I was still wearing my jacket, and other riding leathers, so I started to strip.

“My mother didn’t tell me why you went. It was elusive and confusing. All I was told was that it was for the best and to keep you safe, but I had no idea why. I just had to accept a new life without you inside it.”

Guilt prodded for a place inside my heart, threatening to ruin this moment, but I pushed it out. We couldn’t change the past, and it wouldn’t do me any good to try and go back in time.

“I was mad at you…it hurt that you felt safer with them…it hurt me that you started finding this new life and this new freedom over there. But then, as I watched you, I realized I had started falling in love with you all over again. Your excitement over the smallest things…your smile. Your love for life.”

I was naked, standing in his bedroom as he gently took my hand and led me to the attached bathroom. A clawfoot tub sat in the corner on top of subway tile. A shower with the same tile was off to the side, and a long counter with two brass sinks.

Silas perched on the edge of the tub and started the hot water, adding in expensive looking bubble bath. Once it was full enough, Silas helped me into the tub, but I gestured toward his bloodied clothes.

“You should get in too. To clean up.”

He glanced down at his shirt and jeans and winced. I relaxed against the porcelain, watching as Silas shed his clothes, revealing dusky tattoos that made up his toned arms, long fingers and tapered waist. Even down his strong thighs, there were designs carved in intricate detail over his skin. He was a story dipped in ink, his soul a sonnet, constantly bleeding new lines of poetry each and every time his heart broke.

With his focus on me, he advanced toward the tub and as I made room for him, he slid in behind me until I was cradled between his thighs. His arms came around me as his lips came to my ear. “I have a thousand regrets, Natty. Most of them are from before you were ever even traded. I should have let the obsession with Fable go. I should have stayed home with you and found a way to leave. We should have left the club, all of it, and ran. We could have had this years ago.”

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