Page 19 of Marked By The Kings

In a way, she’s right. I wouldn’t be marrying Marcus Fulton; I’d be marrying Danielle Fulton. I nearly give myself whiplash trying to come to terms with that thought. Just a few days ago, I would have traded an arm and a leg to get Danielle off my case. Now I’m thinking about our future together—getting married, her father becoming mine, and the future we’re going to have.Don’t get ahead of yourself, I think.If you push too fast, you’ll push her away.

A shiver races down my spine despite the evening heat. If I were to lose Danielle, even though I’ve barely had her, I think it would rip my soul in two. Something about her fills a part of me that I didn’t realize was empty. “We should go on that motorcycle ride now,” I change the subject.

Danielle follows me to the motorcycle, and I climb on, straddling the beast between my legs. She follows suit, asking me for tips on gracefully draping her dress so she doesn’t flash all the cars we drive by.

“You should have worn pants,” I tell her with a smile.

She harrumphs before wrapping her arms around my waist. “Where’s the fun in following the rules?”

She’s right about that. If we followed the rules, I wouldn’t be sitting here with a sexy young woman on the back of my Harley, sticking to me like honey to the hive. “If you need me to stop, just squeeze my arm twice.” I start the motorcycle, and the engine roars to life.

“I won’t need you to stop,” Danielle insists. “I’ve only ever wanted more from you.”

There’s a lump in my throat now, but I can’t swallow past it. Who knows how long destiny has had this woman planned for me? I could change the course of my life by forcing her off my bike and driving away. But then I wouldn’t be looking down the barrel of forever, seeing my soulmate on the other side.

14

DANIELLE

It’s like a scene out of a movie.

Holy navigates the motorcycle down the winding road leading to Top Of The World, and we’re dumped onto the highway. I cling to him for dear life, the adrenaline rush putting me on high alert. My heart flies into my lungs as he gets the motorcycle up to highway speeds. It feels like we’re flying.

I’m thankful for the helmet now. The wind whips around the hair sticking out of the back of the helmet. The plastic half-visor keeps it from stinging my eyes. The sun sinks beyond the hills in the distance, but it’s still hot and muggy.

We drive for a while, and I see the countryside surrounding Manhattan in a way that I never have before. My father and I have gone to various small towns in Kansas. I’ve taken numerous backroads and dirt roads to visit friends. But there’s something more genuine about being out there without the walls of a car to keep you safe. The air smells different when it isn’t filtered through a car’s AC. You appreciate the feeling of the wind on your skin as you barrel down an empty road going seventy.

Holy stops when we reach an overlook. He’s taken so many twists and turns, slowed down and sped up, but I don’t know where we are. Tuttle Creek Lake is below us, and off in the distance, I can see the campgrounds.

After a few seconds, he shuts off the motorcycle and pulls off his helmet. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

That’s an understatement. I’ve never seen the sunset glisten on the lake like this. I’ve been coming here for years, but this view is different.

I follow his lead and remove my helmet, handing it to him while I climb off the back of the motorcycle. “Where are we?” I ask. The road we came up was lined with trees. Thick, green branches swelled overhead, and wildflowers dotted the roadside.

“It’s a secret,” Holy smiles as he sets the helmets in my seat and dismounts the bike.

When I turn to look at him, he is basking in the final rays of sunlight. His skin is golden beneath the amber beams; he is the treasure at the end of the rainbow. “Well, it’s beautiful,” I add, suddenly at a loss for words.

He walks up next to me, and his arm brushes mine. “My siblings and I found this place by accident when we were kids. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, but Mama always made sure we had bikes. Partially so we could ride to school every day, but in the summer, we spent hours scouring Manhattan while she was at work. We were the fittest kids you’ve ever seen.” Holy chuckles as he recalls his youthful summers. “We probably rode a thousand miles the summer we found this place.”

It was all uphill to get here. I’ve used the bike machine at the gym, but I don’t think I’ve ridden a bicycle since I was a preteen. “Where did you live?”

“Redbud Estates.” He lowers his head toward mine. “The ritzy part of town,” Holy says with a wink.

I’ve heard of Redbud Estates, everyone in Manhattan has. It’s a trailer park well-known for its poor management. But since the trailers cost a fraction of the price of a house, and the park isn’t well-kept, people don’t complain much. “That makes this a long way to bike.”

He nods along with me. “And on the highway, too. People were honking at us left and right.”

The highway he mentions is Seth Child Road. It cuts through town, linking travelers on K18 to Highway 24. There are a few off-ramps that lead to business districts, including the turn-off for Redbud Estates. “I’d be so embarrassed. I can’t stand having so many people watch me.”

Holy raises an eyebrow. I can feel his gaze on me, and I studiously ignore him. “Really?” He questions disbelievingly. “You’re on the dance team.”

“That’s different,” I say quickly. “I know people are going to be watching me when I dance. And, to a certain degree, I know that when I walk through the courtyard first thing in the morning or through the cafeteria at lunch, someone will stare. But I can’t imagine a bunch of strangers watching me bike down Seth Child.”

I am a big fish in a little pond at Manhattan High School. Part of the reason other people like me is because I’m the Principal’s cool daughter. I don’t rat people out for smoking behind the gym. I go to parties, and I get drunk along with everyone else. I’m not the prettiest girl in school, but I’m conventionally attractive. I’m not a tattletale or a know-it-all in the classroom. I’m just an average girl that lucked into being popular. I’m still not used to the attention after all these years, but I’m working on accepting my place in this world.

Holy wisely chooses not to go down the rabbit hole of deciphering my idiosyncrasies. He tells me about the summer he and his siblings spent trying to get here and what happened after they finally arrived. “I was thirteen at the time. It seemed like a cool place to hang out and build a treehouse, but I didn’t really see it as much more than that.”

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