Page 30 of Don't Make Me Beg
A shiver shoots through me when I feel Scout’s hands move lower, her arms clenching around me tighter as we move deeper into the forest. She must realize where we’re going, or at least suspect…
“Is that…is that our old tree fort?” Scout asks as I put the bike in park.
“Yep. It was a toss-up between this or the graveyard, but I figured this way would be the most secluded.” I climb off and remove my helmet before lifting her off, careful to keep her bare legs from accidentally brushing against the hot metal.
“Oh, thank you.” She sounds nervous as I unbuckle her helmet and place it on her seat. My eyes search hers as we stand here waiting. I wish I knew what she was thinking.
She’s the first to look away, her eyes dropping to her feet as she nervously fidgets with the bow in her hair, and there’s something about it that feels like a victory. I fucking love that she’s nervous right now, that I hold the fate of her future in my hands.
I reach out, straightening the bow. “Stop fidgeting. You look great.”
The relief on her face almost makes me feel guilty—until I remember how pathetic that is.
When was the last time someone gave her a compliment? Christ, Scout, do you really have that little self-respect?
Now I’m more annoyed that she’s set the bar so goddamn low.
“Come on. Let’s get this over with,” I say as I take her hand in mine and lead her through the tree line.
Our footsteps crunch through the silence as our old treehouse finally comes into view.
The massive hollowed-out trunk is split down the middle in an exaggerated V shape. One half leans against a nearby tree, its branches dead and mangled, while the other angles in the opposite direction—its limbs full of life and lush with green leaves.
A single strand of twinkling lights drapes across the tree’s barren branches, while golden rays filter through the woods like soft brushstrokes on a canvas. Clustered patches of wildflowers—yellow, pink, and orange—peek through the tall grass, adding bursts of color that echo the setting of the sun.
It’s a quiet kind of beauty. The kind that only exists in nature, appreciated only by those who slow down long enough to see it.
I hear the soft hitch in Scout’s breath as she takes it all in. “Wow. I can’t believe it’s still half alive…”
“Or half dead…” I add with a shrug.
She rolls her eyes. “What a romantic mindset.”
She turns to walk away, but I catch her arm and pull her back. “Don’t get it twisted, princess. I never claimed to be romantic.” I lean down, lowering my voice. “This is purely a revenge plan and nothing more. Got it?”
“Of course.” She smiles sweetly, placing a hand on my jaw. “Fake as it may be, you could’ve at least ironed your shirt foryour wedding day.” Her eyes flick to my wrinkled collar, lips curling into a smug grin.
I release her arm and square my shoulders. “Well, since we’re giving unsolicited advice… You’ve been walking around with a piece of spinach in your teeth all day.”
Her mouth drops open, and she grabs for her phone, no doubt to check her reflection. I brush past her when I see Jett, arm in arm with Miss Scarlett, making their way toward us.
“Hey, thanks so much for doing this, especially on such short notice.” I wrap my arms around Miss Scarlett.
“Oh, honey, it’s my honor to be the one to marry you two.” She plants a kiss on both of my cheeks, grinning ear to ear when she pulls away. “I’m a sucker for love, and a part of me always knew you two would end up together.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
Jett just shakes his head, looking annoyed to have been dragged into this.
“Nice touch with the lights. You really went the extra mile,” I say once Miss Scarlett’s out of earshot.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I grabbed them off the patio on the way out the door.” He walks over to the hollow tree and pulls out a bouquet of fresh flowers. Another thoughtful gesture I never asked him to do. “You want this wedding to look believable, then you at least need to do the bare minimum.”
He hands me the small bouquet, and for some reason, I feel a tightness in my chest when I realize how perfectly they complement Scout’s sundress. It almost feels like an intentional choice, rather than a stroke of luck.
Jett’s eyes narrow on me, and I realize I’m still staring at the flowers.
I clear my throat. “Thanks, man. Did you get the rings?”
