Page 75 of Into the Light

Rain gently tucked me into his bed—our bed—before sliding in next to me and wrapping me in his arms the same way he’d done a couple weeks ago. This felt far more intimate than letting him chase me around naked in the orchards.

Yet, it also felt so much more at home.

Chapter twenty-five

Weeks had passed after we’d gotten back from the house in the countryside, and Ember had insisted we legalize all the title documents for the house. I wasn’t going to argue, but little did she realize she was making my dreams come true. I also spent most nights at her house, but it was one of those things we didn’t really acknowledge what we were or what we were doing so it wasn’t true. Everything was better left unsaid, and I was okay with that.

It was time to put my plan to action because I knew what I had to do to finally close this chapter we had and move forward with our life. Plus, Mr. Ortiz has been on us at the Den to see if we’d gotten any new information.

Pico was walking me to the edge of the town at the small diner that Ember had taken me to weeks ago. It was a run-down little place, but the food was probably the only decent thing in this town.

“What’re we doing at this shithole?” He looked up at the sign flickering and furrowed his brows.

“Hey, don’t knock it until you try it. They actually have legit burgers.” I laughed before he narrowed his eyes at me.

“Ash took us here. I disagree.” I laughed thinking of Pico being forced to come and do couple-y things with his girlfriend. He loved Marissa deeply and had since I could remember from back home, but he also played the tough-guy act a lot and was a stubborn piece of shit most of the time.

“Can you believe that next year we will be outta this place?” Pico asked, looking behind us where Isles was being greeted by the shadows of the evening.

“No,” I said flatly because I had no fucking idea what that meant for me, no clue what my so-called future would look like.

“Anyway.” He pushed open the door, and the little bell jingled. “Are you going to tell me why we’re here or are you going to make me guess?”

I laughed slowly before looking around the diner and finding the familiar head of hair in the back of the corner booth before I gestured him in that direction.

Pico reached for his waistband before I shook him off.

“This is peaceful,” I told him, trying to convince myself of it. I reached out to him when Ember told me she was going to meet with him. After debating it for a while, I figured the worst thing that could happen on neutral territory was we make a bigger fight for the spring bonfire than last year.

As I walked in front of Pico and approached Walsh, Ember’s brother, it was uncanny to see the resemblance between them. They resembled their mother. I’d only ever seen photos of Ember’s mom briefly when I was in her room. She kept a photo of them when she was a baby tucked behind her desk inside her bookshelf. As if she was ashamed, leaving her in the shadows, not ready to face that yet.

“Walsh.” I swallowed, and he stood up and shook my hand.

Walsh looked at Pico and then back to me.

“I thought we were coming alone.” He eyed Pico one more time, giving him a once-over. “Not bringing our dogs.”

“Pendejo.” I placed my hand on Pico’s chest before he pressed.

“He is an important part of this conversation,” I encouraged. “Plus, he, too, had no idea who we were meeting with.”

I slid opposite Walsh on the other side of the bench.

“Are you going to explain why we are here?” I knew Pico wanted to ask the same question, but would never question me in front of Walsh. That’s why I knew what I was doing was the right step with what I was about to do.

“Yes—”

“What can I get you guys?” The familiar waitress came over with a pad of paper and pen in hand, ready to take our orders. It always fascinated me that the people who actually lived in Isles had no idea what this place stood for. I mean, they had to have known with how the place reeked of blood and war every spring, but none of them ever said anything if they did suspect.

“Chocolate milkshake,” I told her, the corners of my lips turned into a smile.

“Who the fuck orders milkshakes for this type of conversation?” Pico said, and I chuckled. Walsh was also laughing.

“What? They’re fucking good. In fact, you all need one.”

I looked back at the waitress. “Make that three chocolate milkshakes.”

She nodded and rushed away before I gave them a smile, thankful that ordering milkshakes had broken the thick ice pulsating between us.

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