Page 81 of Thrones We Steal

“I’ll be fine. I’ve hiked this trail so many times I know it like the back of my hand.” It’s the truth, if you end the sentence at trail. I have hiked this trail, yes. Back when I was thirteen.

I fill my lungs with the spirituous scent of damp earth and rotting wood. There is nothing like the forest to remind you of the world outside your own. I give one last reassuring wave to the driver, who still looks like he fears losing his job over this, and set off on the trail leading deeper into the wood, my wellies crunching on dead leaves and pine needles.

I walk for a bit before circling back to wait in the thick covering of the forest until Beck’s car pulls onto the gravel driveway, just a few minutes after my driver left. I step out to greet him, my heart hammering in my chest. I offer a tentative smile. “Thank you for coming.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” He pulls me into his warm embrace and presses a kiss to the top of my head. The gesture is so familiar it aches.

I lead the way to the trail and stuff my hands into the pockets of my canvas jacket. The temperature in the woods is at least ten degrees cooler than in the sunshine. The air in my lungs feels strangely void of oxygen, and I’m transported back in time to a similar feeling as I sat in his apartment and ripped both of our lives to shreds.

“You never called.” His voice sounds loud in the hush of the forest.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been busy.” I seem to have a propensity for half-truths today.

“I meant what I said that day in the park. I want you in my life, Celia.”

I gnaw on my bottom lip and wish there was a way to make everyone happy. Whenever I turn around, I disappoint people and it’s exhausting. Here is one person I can please. And so help me, God, I’m taking it. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

He stops walking, and I turn to find him studying me, a look of mild disbelief on his face. “You’re serious? You want to start an affair?”

“Sure, why not?”

His frown deepens. “Okay,” he says and steps closer. He encircles my waist with his hands and tugs until our bodies are touching. Then he dips his head and kisses me. His mouth is cool and tastes like the cinnamon Altoids he pops every hour. My lips follow his lead, performing the dance they’ve done many times before. As the seconds tick by, the ache in my heart throbs stronger and stronger, until I’m sure it will burst.

He pulls back. The frown is back on his face, and his eyes search mine for an explanation. Words have become foreign to my tongue, while I dream of the ground opening and swallowing me up.

“What’s wrong?” There’s a plea masked in the words.

I shake my head. “Nothing. What do you mean?”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Because I don’t want him to explain, to vocalize what we both know.

“Come on,” I say before he can answer. “Let’s keep going. There’s a small waterfall about a mile down the trail.”

He follows me but so does the chilly tension between us. The only sound is the crunching of our feet on the path and the forest teeming with life. The waterfall is beautiful, but it does nothing to ease the crackling in the air.

I move to continue down the trail, but he pulls me onto a large rock beside him.

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t actually want to do this?”

I scratch at a speck of mud on my trousers. “I do want to. I’m just afraid of rumors getting out.”

“You’re sure that’s all that’s bothering you?”

“I’m sure. You can’t imagine the pressure I’ve been under.”

“It’s not too late to walk away.”

“You know I could never do that.”

He doesn’t say anything, just looks out at the trees surrounding us. After several minutes, he offers his hand and pulls me to my feet. “And you’re not afraid of going to hell for our debauchery?”

If I get sent to hell, it will not be for anything pertaining to Beck. Our love is too sweet, too pure for that. I rise on tiptoes and press my lips against his before any memories can quell the urge. “What debauchery?”

* * *

---