Chapter 13 Betsy #2
Just like hoped, Annaliese clings to me the entire time we take the ride out of Harmony Heights, up the nearby mountains. Her arms are wrapped tightly around my waist, chest pressed to my back, thighs bracketing mine as though she was made to be on this motorcycle with me.
I nearly groan every time she squeezes me infinitely tighter whenever I take a turn.
I’ve gone this way so many times over the years, I could take the path with my eyes closed.
Anytime I need to escape the pressures of the Order, this is where I flee to.
The Reynolds family has a mountain cabin a couple of miles from here that no one but me uses anymore.
One day, when I was about sixteen and pissed off about something so stupid, I don’t even remember it anymore, I found a waterfall overlook so beautiful, even a boneheaded teenager could appreciate it.
I’ve never brought anyone here before. Before Annaliese, I only had two long-term relationships.
I dated Caroline Wilson for most of high school, but she wasn’t an Order girl—not an Offering, and she refused to join as one of the Used—so I knew that we could never last. Not when I had Reynolds for my last name.
A low-ranking member could marry whoever the hell they wanted, but when you’re at the top of the secret society, it’s an Offering if you want to climb up in the ranks.
I didn’t give a shit about any of that. I was also only seventeen, and because I knew it couldn’t last, I cheated on her with her best friend, Stephanie. And after Stephanie, it was Grace, then Monique, then Allie…
By then, I figured that it wasn’t that I wouldn’t take any Offering as a wife, but that I had no plan to get hitched at all.
Who wanted to enter a serious relationship with a guy who made it clear there was no commitment in the future?
That began a decade of no strings attached relationships, flings, one-night stands, and a tendency to visit the Used in between that.
Except for Julie.
I thought Julie was different. For the first time ever, I thought maybe, but in the end, she was the one stringing me along. She might’ve been the only one I would’ve brought up to the waterfall, but she absolutely refused to ever ride with me.
Annaliese climbed on my back barely a month into our marriage—and she really thinks I’m going to let her go?
She doesn’t complain at all during the right. However, by the time we reach the waterfall overlook, she’s shaking. Once I stop the bike, she slides off the bike on wobbly legs.
“Give yourself a second,” I tell her, reaching out so that I can steady her with my hand on her hip. “Your legs need to catch up.”
Standing still, she removes her helmet, letting it hang at her side as she glares at me. “You think this is funny?”
I should be honest with my wife. I laugh. “A little bit.”
Annaliese tosses the helmet at me. Laughing even harder, I catch it as she huffs before moving toward the overlook.
I can tell from her body language the moment she’s gotten to the edge of the cliff, peering down at the waterfall below us.
She inches closes, hands lifting to her face as she cups her chin, and I grin.
I knew she would love it here as much as I do.
While she’s distracted by the view, I quickly fiddle with my bike. Practiced fingers loosening one of the connections. It’s nothing dangerous, just enough to buy me some time alone with my wife.
Once that’s done, I remove the saddlebags from the back of the bike, throwing them over my shoulder. I leave mine and Annaliese’s helmets where I placed them on the dirt before joining her by the cliff.
While she stares down at the waterfall, the white rapids, the clean brook, the boulders… while she’s lost in the view, I lay out the plastic blanket, the snacks, and the bottles of water I brought for our picnic. Only then do I walk over to her.
She glances up at me, tears glistening in her big brown eyes. “Sebastien… it’s beautiful.”
I don’t even look at the waterfall. Instead, I look down at her, daring to rub my thumb along the height of her cheek, capturing a stray tear as it falls. “Yes. You are.”
She blinks before ducking her head, suddenly shy. That’s fine. If my wife needs to hear me tell her she’s beautiful a hundred times before she believes it, then I’ll tell her a hundred-and-one times.
I drop my hand to her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s eat.”
Happy to take the excuse to break up the sudden sexual tension, she hurries over to the picnic. I see the look of pleasure that flashes across her face as she plop down, mentally patting myself on the back. Fucking finally, I got something right.
We eat together, sharing the sandwiches, the chips, the apples that I sliced up myself.
We bullshit, talking about everything and anything—except for our marriage, that is—and I find myself even more pleased that I thought ahead to mess with the bike.
If I could, I’d keep Annaliese up here with me forever.
She doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seems thrilled by the view, but even more impressed that I didn’t just throw down a chunk of money to buy my bike and ride it off the lot.
“You actually really built that?” Annaliese looks at the bike again, then at me. When I nod, she screws up her face in clear confusion. “I don’t get it. You’re obviously good with tools. So… why don’t you do it as, like, a job? I can tell you enjoy it, too.”
She’s right on both counts. I’m great with tools, and I’m never more at peace with myself than when I have grease under my nails and a big piece of machinery in front of me as I bring it to life.
But as much as I wanted to leave the reality of the Order behind by bringing Annaliese out here, even I have to admit that that’s impossible.
“Because in Harmony Heights,” I say lightly, “having the Reynolds name means you don’t get to dream small.
So what if I’ve always wanted to own and operate a garage of my own?
Not when your name is Sebastien Reynolds.
Then you get shoved into politics, law, the Order, or something equally pretentious…
or you do what I did and just did nothing. ”
She nods quietly. “I understand.”
I’m sure she does.
Worse that puts a damper on the rest of the afternoon.
Both of us quiet, lost in thought instead of appreciating the outdoors, we finish eating.
I can tell when Annaliese starts to get antsy, ready to head back, and I prepare myself for her reaction when she finds out that… yeah. That’s not happening just yet.
Still, I go through the motions. Cleaning up the picnic, I stuff our garbage and the blanket back in the saddlebags before snapping them back into place. I hand Annaliese her helmet, then put mine on. I climb onto the bike. Annaliese climbs behind me.
I start the engine.
Nothing happens.
I try again.
Annaliese lifts her visor. “Um… Sebastien? Why isn’t your bike turning on?”
Looking over my shoulder at her, I shrug with as much innocence as I can muster. “Not sure, love. Looks like Betsy’s not getting the spark she needs to go.”
I don’t think I know how to do innocence, and Annaliese obviously agrees. As though she can tell I’m full of shit, she narrows her eyes. “You built it.”
“I did,” I agree. “I said I built it, piece by piece. I didn’t say I was good at doing it.”
“Oh, you—”
She stares at me.
I stare right back.
She pats her pockets. “I’ll call Miranda. She has her permit. She can come get us. If not, I’m sure one of your friends can pick us up.”
If I called any of my bros, they’d drop whatever they were doing to help me. I’d do the same for them, too. But if they knew I was right where I wanted to be… “Sorry, love. I thought you noticed. There’s no service up here.”
I don’t think she even noticed that, distracted by our picnic date, she never even took out her phone. I’m banking on that because, while the service is spotty up on the mountain, if she walks around, she’ll get a strong enough signal to make a call.
She leaves her phone in her pocket and I have to swallow my triumphant grin.
Instead, I cluck my tongue. “What’s the matter, love?”
“What’s the matter?” she echoes. “Your bike is dead. We’re probably a good hour, hour and a half out of town by foot, and it’ll be dark sooner than later. No one knows where we are, and it’s just me and you stuck together out here.”
I remove my helmet, making sure she can see the dare on my face. “Is that a problem? That it’s just me and you?”
“What? No—”
I chuckle. “It’s okay. Tell me, Annaliese… are you afraid to be alone with your husband?”