Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Dahlia
The city disappears behind us, swallowed by trees and winding roads that narrow with every mile.
I watch the landscape change through my window. Buildings give way to forest. Paved roads turn to gravel. The signs, what few there were, start to vanish.
We’re off the beaten path now. Way off.
I shift in my seat, hyper-aware of how isolated we’re becoming. There are no streetlights. No other cars. No people at all. Trees press in from both sides, and the windy road we’re on feels like it’s leading to nowhere.
Echo pulls up to a gate and hops out of the car to unlock it. As I watch him, I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
What am I doing?
No, seriously, what the fuck am I doing?
Not running away as soon as I realized how he felt about me was bad enough, but letting him take me somewhere private, knowing full well that my rational brain stops functioning every time we’re alone, is completely unhinged.
Echo slips back into the car and glances at me. “Almost there.”
I nod and give him a tight smile.
He drives up a long dirt road, and as we round a bend, the trees open up, revealing a lake that’s so pristine and so blue it doesn’t even look real.
There’s a wooden dock stretching out over the water, weathered and slightly uneven, and beyond it, nothing but lush trees and open sky as far as I can see.
Echo parks his car off to the side and cuts the engine.
I stare through the windshield, taking it all in. The water. The trees reflected on its surface. The complete and utter absence of anyone else.
“What is this place?” I ask quietly.
“Come see for yourself.”
Echo steps out of the car and leads us to a wooden bench near the shore. He takes a seat, and for a second, I stand there awkwardly behind him, not knowing what to do.
I know we’ve just spent the last few hours in close proximity, but after everything that’s happened, something about the contrast between the limited space on the bench and the open scenery around us makes sitting next to him feel way more intimate.
I’m about to stick to standing when I notice Echo shift. He’s trying to be subtle about it, but at 6’6, I don’t think anything he does goes without notice.
Echo slides to the very edge of the bench, so much so, that I’m pretty sure the edge of it is digging into his right ass cheek.
I shake my head.
Only Echo would risk a splinter in his ass just to make me feel less awkward about sitting next to him.
I hate how well he works around me. How he adjusts. He has this innate ability to anticipate my needs before I can even recognize them, let alone verbalize them.
He gets me, but he shouldn’t.
I take a seat on the other edge of the bench, close my eyes, and listen. To the rustling of leaves. To the soft lapping of water against the shore. To my own breathing, finally slowing.
“What are we supposed to be doing here?” I ask, opening my eyes to look at him.
Echo glances at me. “This.”
I frown. “Sitting in silence?”
He nods.
“Why?”
“You said that was your favorite way to spend a day off.”
He remembered that? Of course he did. He remembers everything. Every throwaway comment. Every minor detail I’ve shared without thinking. He catalogs everything about me like some kind of fanatical Dahlia Delacruz historian.
“Yeah,” I say quietly, sinking my teeth into my lower lip to stop from smiling. “It is.”
We fall into a comfortable silence again.
I keep my eyes on the water, but in my periphery, I’m hyperaware of everything about him.
The way his shoulders rise and fall with each breath.
The way his fingers tap against his knees.
The way his gaze keeps drifting toward me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.
I catch him looking more than once, but I pretend not to notice.
“Thank you.” I say quietly, my eyes catching his. “For being there for me last night. It wasn’t your problem to worry about, but you showed up anyway.”
“Your problems are my problems, Bambi.” He says quietly.
I glance at him, and his expression is as unreadable as ever, but when I look into his eyes, I can tell he means it. And that absolutely guts me.
Standing here by this beautiful lake, hearing him say things like that, it’s easy to forget what I overheard. Easy to pretend that this is harmless. But nothing about this feels harmless anymore.
“Well, either way.” I say, fidgeting with my hands in my lap. “Thanks.”
He nods and stares out at the lake again. I do the same, but my mind stays focused on him.
We sit there a while longer, saying nothing as the sun drifts lower and lower, until the sky starts to bleed with streaks of purple and gold.
Shadows stretch across the water, and a cool breeze moves through the trees.
I rub my hands over my arms, more out of instinct than anything, and beside me, Echo shifts.
“We should probably head back,” he says quietly.
I nod, glancing once more at the water before pushing to my feet. “Yeah,” I murmur. “Probably.”
We rise from the bench at the same time and accidentally head towards each other. For a moment, we stand there. Closer than we were on the bench, and even closer than we were in the car.
Echo reaches up to tuck a strand of hair out of my face, and when his fingers graze my neck, he lets them linger.
“Your pulse is racing again, Bambi.” He says, locking his eyes on mine.
He tilts my chin up and I swallow, knowing exactly where this is going.
Before today, I would’ve let this happen. I would’ve let Echo do whatever he wanted to me, and I would’ve convinced myself that I had it under control. But now I know none of this is under control, and that’s exactly why I have to stop it, even if it hurts.
I take a step back, averting my gaze as his hand falls to his side. My body mourns the loss of his touch immediately, and it takes everything in me not to lean back into him.
He looks at me, searching my gaze. “What’s wrong?”
Nothing. This feels too easy. Too good. Too much like the one thing I can’t let myself fall into and nothing like the friendship I’ve been trying to force us into.
Friends. That label doesn’t fit us anymore, and as I look up at him and feel that undeniable pull, I’m not even sure it ever did.
But maybe it needs to.
If I can shove us back into that box, I might still be able to control this. I can stop this now before it gets any worse.
“Sorry,” I say, clearing my throat. “Still friends, right?”
I watch the way the word lands and see him process it. “Yeah,” he breathes, giving me a nod with his jaw tight. “Of course.”
I look back at the lake because I can’t bring myself to look at him anymore, and when Echo finally heads back to the car, I trail a few feet behind him.
We drive back into the city in silence, and when we finally pull up to the bookstore, Echo still doesn’t say anything as he opens my door for me.
I get out of his car and head towards my own, parked a few spaces down. Echo watches me get in, and as always, he doesn’t pull away until I’m already on the road.
I watch him in my rearview, and when he finally takes a turn and disappears, the strangest wave of grief slams into me.
I’m losing him. Not entirely. He’s still in my life and he’ll probably text me before I even make it home.
But what we used to be... that messy, undefined, terrifying yet thrilling thing with no name and no rules, is over now. And I can’t even be sad about it, because I’m the one that killed it.