Page 29 of Wed By the Lumberjack

“Pearl’s the least of my issues right now.”

“You named your truck?” She groans. “That means you loved it.”

“I love you more.”

Her head shoots up off my shoulder and her mouth falls open.

“I mean it, Dixie. I’ve always loved you since the moment you broke into this treehouse. 15 years haven’t changed that. Well... it turned from innocent puppy love to downright primal, overly protective, love with a heavy dose of lust. I know I was wrong for lying about who I was. But all I wanted was to keep you safe and by my side. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Heath–”

“I don’t need or want an answer, or a response, or anything from you right now Dixie, but I need you to know that.”

She nods slowly.

“Let’s go to Whiskey City.”

“Right now?”

I nod. “I know how much your Gran’s house means to you, and despite that asshole not deserving an ounce of your sympathy, I know you won’t stop worrying until I prove to you that he’s safe, like all apocalypse-resistant roaches.

“But, it’s four hours away.”

“I know.”

“And it’s dark.”

“The ride is mostly down in the valley. It’s well-lit. Unless you’d rather wait until morning? We can go as soon as the sun comes up. Your choice.”

“I think we should wait but my anxiety won’t let me sleep.” Her eyes flash to the windows again, like she’s expecting to see someone outside. “To be honest. I’m just scared of what we’ll find.”

“I’ll be with you the entire time. I promise you when you’re with me I won’t let anything bad happen to you and I mean it,” I say getting to my feet and helping her to hers.

“But four hours. You’d seriously do that for me?”

“I’d do anything for you. You don’t know the half of it.”

“Like pretending to be my husband?”

“Like that,” I say sheepishly.

“I’m still pissed at you for lying to me, even with all the good intentions.”

“I know.”

“I don’t forgive you yet.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Who says I will?”

“Then I’ll wait forever. Come On.”

***

When we pull onto the fringes of Whiskey City, the sun’s just starting to rise. Dixie instructs me to make a left through a dirt path that’s so overgrown, I would’ve missed it on my own. When we pull into the small clearing, it takes another second for me to recognize the cottage half hidden behind some pines.

It’s tiny, the size of my tool shed, but I can tell Dixie and her Gran must’ve put a ton of love into it because the right side that’s uncharred is a cheery yellow with beautiful sky blue shutters.

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