Page 89 of Fated Shot

“Can you guys stop looking so in love for like thirty seconds? It’s sickening.” Penn quips while slurping on the Icee he got during our Cordelia’s pit stop.

“I swear to god, Penn, if you don’t shut up, you’re walking the rest of the way,” Jack warns, jaw tensing as he flashes a look in the rearview mirror before returning to meet me with a soft gaze, still holding my hand.

“Hope you’re prepared, Mia. You should have seen the shack he was in last year. I’m surprised it even had running water. Can’t wait to see which Thoreau Cabin he’s picked for this summer…”

His words trail off as we pull down the gravel driveway leading to the cutest two story craftsman style house. It's painted blue and adorned with thick white trims.

“Uh, wrong address,” he finishes.

“Shut it,” Jack grumbles, putting the car in park in front of a cute, two-car detached garage that perfectly matches the style ofthe house. He makes his way around to my side before opening the door for me and grabbing my hand.

“Penn, get the bags.”

He guides me up the white porch steps, punches in a code on the door that flashes green, and opens it for me to enter ahead of him. I’m immediately basking in natural light and greeted by an unobstructed view of the lake. The interiors are light and airy—exactly what you’d want from a lake house retreat.

“This is—” I spin around on the gray herringbone flooring, taking in the incredible space, “absolutely beautiful,” I finish.

Jack’s ears flush pink as he watches me.

“I’m glad you like it. I was hoping you would.” His uncertainty is so endearing. After all of this time, it’s still the cutest thing about him. Always wanting to do or say the right thing, always wanting to surprise me. I am so in love with him.

“HOLY SHIT!” Penn’s voice echoes through the room, snapping us out of whatever cute moment we were having. He walks in, two massive duffels slumped over one shoulder and supporting Bean’s entire body in his other arm.

“You have a room down the hall and to the right, bathroom should be attached.” Jack calls to him, pointing down a corridor off the kitchen.

“Sweet. Bean and I are going to unpack.”

“I wanted you to be able to have a space to come up here anytime this summer, but I swear to God if you break anything, you’re banned.”

Penn stands at attention, giving Jack a little salute with his free hand before hurrying excitedly toward his room.

“If I break something, will I be banned too?” I ask, giving my most innocent eyes.

“No.” He closes the distance between us, standing behind me, “But you may have to be punished,” he whispers, breath on my ear, lighting up every nerve in my body like fireworks. I lean backinto him with a whimper. When he spots the goosebumps that have formed down my neck, he chuckles.

“Come on, Wyndham. Let me show you the rest of the house.” He plants a soft kiss below my ear before grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the stairs.

The second story has a similar vibe to the first floor, modern and bright. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, an office lined with books, and a game room later, I’m finally ushered to a set of white double doors. Jack pauses for a second, before pushing them both open in unison allowing me to step in ahead of him.

The first thing I notice is the sliding glass doors leading to a massive balcony overlooking the lake. The light is streaming in, basking the space in the happiest yellow hues. The white oak bedroom set is a dream, I can’t wait to jump in it, get cozy, and watch the sunset.

“Wow.” I’m surprised the words manage to escape me, I’m otherwise rendered speechless. This house couldn’t be more perfect. It’s my pinterest dreams come to life.

A throat clears in the corner of the room and I realize I’ve just been standing here in a living daydream for minutes.

“There’s His and Hers closets through here if, um, you ever want to leave a little stuff,” Jack says, pointing out the little corridor with two closet doors leading to the en-suite.

“You going to be okay by yourself in this great big house, BFG?”

He nods resoundingly.

“I was hoping to have a particular visitor stop by regularly. It’s exactly a ten-minute drive from a boathouse I know. Four minutes if I take the boat.”

“Hmm… seems a little far.” I take a step toward him.

“I’m certain we can make it work,” he mocks, mimicking me and taking a huge step in my direction.

“I don’t know. What if beingsofar away from you, I forget what you look like? Or the distance becomes too much? Or I’m too exhausted to make the commute?”

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