Page 92 of Burn the Wild

My stomach’s been in a knot since I heard the news.

I said I’d respect her privacy, that I wouldn’t dig into whatever she’s running from. One thing is obvious, though. She’s a vault of fucking secrets.

I shouldn’t get involved. I should step back and let her deal with them herself.

But a little voice inside of me says it’s impossible.

Reese spreads out a blanket and settles on the riverbank while I bait and cast the lines.

“Is it true the fish can hear you?” she asks, pulling out snacks from the basket she brought along.

I laugh. “Nah, Birdie. My dad just wanted me to shut the fuck up.”

Above us, the hot June sun shines. Birdsong sounds in the trees.

I smile as I settle beside Reese. Instead of sandwiches or water—actual nourishment—she’s brought along bags of chips, gummy bears, and Sprite. It’s like her body exists on sugar alone. As long as Reese is eating, that’s all that matters.

Leaning in, I spin my baseball cap backward so I can kiss her properly. “What’s with the junk food?”

A flush spreads over her cheeks. “It’s my way of rebelling. Gavin never let me have sweets. Not even on birthdays.”

“Hell, you never had a birthday cake?”

Her teeth tug at her lower lip. “No. We never had parties. Or at least real parties with balloons and candles. It was either in a club or I was alone in a hotel room.” She thinks about it. “I thinkthe last party I had was when I was seven. My mom made me a unicorn cake.”

My stomach tightens.

“Gavin always checked us in under the most ridiculous names,” she says, stretching out on the blanket. “For hotels or tours, we were the von Trapps or the Waltons or even”—she laughs—“the Bradys. But we weren’t happy. Not like those perfect families on TV. I think maybe he thought of us like that.”

There’s so much sadness in her voice. All I want to do is take it away.

I drag a hand through my hair. “You ever think about tracking down your folks?”

“Sometimes.” She exhales and stretches in the sunshine. “Sometimes I wish I could see my parents. For one day. Just get answers. Sometimes I don’t understand why they gave me up.” She shrugs. “Sometimes I do.”

I give a nod, not wanting her to be sad any longer. “Go on, Birdie girl, put those pretty toes down in the water.”

She does, giggling as her pink-painted toes meet the ice-cold water.

“Doing things different, that’s what you’re doing.”

She smiles, a certain fragileness in her expression. “Yeah. I like that.” She rests her head on my shoulder. Her blonde locks tickle my arm. “I like the way you make me feel, Ford. Like I can do anything.”

Damn if that doesn’t steal the breath from my lungs.

“You can, you know.” When she doesn’t answer, I ask, “What would you do if you could do anything?”

“I don’t know. I think that’s what I’m out here to find out.” Twisting into me, she opens a bag of Combos. “I’ve never loved the rat race of the tour. The exhaustion. I loved it because I was told I loved it. Because I felt like I owed Gavin.”

Before I can ask what she means, she says, “I just want out. I don’t want to go back.”

Over my dead body.

I shake my head against the sudden fury.

“What would you do?”

“Anything but be locked up again.”

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