Lily
The rocker moves beneath me over my parents’ front porch. Back and forth. Slow and steady. The motion settles me, and I only wish Max were here for me to run my fingers through his fur.
Night wraps the old plantation, lit only by the glow of the porch lights.
Fireflies blink out in my mother’s garden and past the winding dirt road that leads here.
I inhale a deep breath of magnolia and warm spring air and then tuck my legs up under me, letting the breeze play with the loose strands of my hair.
Somewhere in the distance, the whippoorwills sing and crickets answer, drifting in like an old bedtime lullaby.
It takes me back.
I thought I’d be inundated with memories of Bran: sneaking out, the parties, the night that started it all.
Instead, I’m reminded of the trails my brothers and I used to explore, the community, my parents slow dancing barefoot on the back porch.
This isn’t home now, but it’s not a place I want to run from anymore.
My parents, grandparents, Liam, Fleur—they all love Noah, and I smile into my knee as I think about him. Consumed. I’m consumed with him, and it was not at all created by an infatuation, but by a true foundation based on trust and respect.
Noah sat with me as I spoke with my parents, finally telling them what had happened to me all those frightful years ago.
It was healing in a way, but not the kind that was necessary to move on and be happy.
I’d done that on my own. No, this was for us as a family, and with my parents worried for Adam, who’s disappeared after the joint raid against Darrin Reynolds, I think my parents appreciated me confiding in them.
The front door squeaks open and Noah pops his head out. “You ready to head back to the bed-and-breakfast? Liam and Fleur are heading to their apartment soon.”
I nod, rocking back and eyeing Noah. His blue T-shirt hangs loose over his blue jeans, and I pull my lip between my teeth, imagining him in his uniform instead. I’ve come to really enjoy that outfit on him.
He smiles and shakes his head, shutting the door behind him and padding over to the rocker beside me. He sits. “You can’t look at me like that, Lil.”
“Why not?”
He gives me a look. “Because I can’t do the things I want to do to you at your grandparents’ bed-and-breakfast.”
I pout.
“You’re making it worse.” He drags a hand over his face.
I snicker and climb out of my rocker and onto his lap, tucking my head against his chest. The heady musk of him invades my nostrils, and I close my eyes, relishing it.
“Fleur said when their farmhouse is finished we need to come back,” he says.
I open an eye and peek at him. “I’d like that, but I hope the next time I come back to Ruin, Adam can be here. I hate he was somehow used by Raven, too.”
“I’ll do what I can to help. If there’s any chatter back home among the NPS or FBI regarding Raven’s dispersed people, I’ll pass it along to the authorities here.”
I nod.
The hanging ferns along the top of the porch roof sway and rustle in the whispering wind, and I trace the wrinkles on Noah’s shirt.
He grabs my hand to still me, and I look up.
His gentle expression is serious, and his fingers find my chin, tilting it up with the slightest pressure.
Everything seems too quiet when the pad of his thumb ghosts just beneath my lip.
My heart runs away with itself; I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to Noah’s reverent gaze or the way he treats me like his reason for breathing.
“When is it okay for me to ask you to marry me?”
My mouth pops open, and while smiling, he lightly shuts it. “Noah … I—”
“I know it’s not now, or even a month from now, but I’m so in love with you, Lil. I want you to be mine in every way.”
Then he leans in. It’s not rushed, or hungry, just certain.
I’m his, and he is mine.
One and a half years later …
The sprawling domes of Yosemite rival the intensity of the sun at its noon peak. It’s hot, and I’m dying. I can only imagine how Noah feels in his uniform as he paces back and forth behind me. Why he isn’t looking ahead at the views is beyond me, but at least Max dutifully rests at my side.
I love it up here, the place I met both Max and Noah for the first time.
Granted, I think I prefer the weather in October as opposed to the sickly hot of July.
Sweat rolls down my back as I flap my shirt behind me, airing out the dampness.
I have a catering job with Mitch tomorrow, and the location is not air-conditioned.
I huff out a string of Rose-approved expletives.
Noah finally steps up beside me and pats Max’s head. “So, I have a confession,” he says.
I turn, the smile on my face falling at his downturned expression. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, but I may have done something …” His tight lips turn upward into a smirk.
I roll my eyes. “What?”
He reaches into his back pocket, and I take the time to study the earthy swirl in his eyes as they dance with anticipation. He runs a hand over his head. “I probably should’ve asked you first, but they were going fast, and I had to make a split decision.”
He hands me a photo of a tiny little puppy. A Belgian Malinois.
My heart flips.
It’s tiny, no bigger than a loaf of bread. With oversized paws and ears, its fur looks soft, even from a shitty printed photo. Its coloring is darker than Max’s, a warm fawn color with a shadowy mask around its eyes and muzzle. Its eyes look wide and serious, yet adorably cute.
“Figured Max could use a bodyguard.”
I look up at him, then back down to the photo.
“He’s four weeks old, and he’ll be ready to go in another five.” He hooks a finger in the waistband of my hiking shorts and pulls me closer to him. “Talk to me. Are you mad?”
He. It’s a male. I don’t know how I could love another dog, especially having met Max, but hell this little puppy’s face is perfect. Definitely not mad.
“Where is he? Can we go see him? Do you think Max will like him? What should we name him? I like the name Knox. Actually, no, what about—”
Noah laughs. “We can go visit him, and I figured Max could help pick the name with a game or something. But Lil … flip it over. Please.”
He’s all serious again, with an earnest expression that knots my stomach and makes more sweat seep into my clothing. I do as instructed and freeze at the words he’s written there.
Marry me?
I stare and stare at his handwritten words, all crisp, clean, and utterly beautiful. When I look up, he’s on one knee with Max by his side. “Marry me, Lily. Be my wife.”
He pops open a tiny black box to offer a brilliant round diamond on a thin platinum band. It’s gorgeous, but it doesn’t hold my attention. It’s the tears in his eyes, the way his hand squeezes Max a little too tight as he awaits an answer. He’s the best view in this damn park.
I drop to my knees to meet him. “Bet you twenty bucks you already know my answer …” I whisper.
Fisting his uniform, I pull him toward me and kiss him.