Chapter Four Maddox
My truck's thermometer reads ninety-two degrees, but Ivy hasn't complained once during the half-hour drive to River Pines Resort. She's just hummed along to the radio, occasionally pointing out interesting landmarks or telling stories about guests at Mountain Laurel. It feels too natural. Like we've done this a hundred times before.
"Is that it?" She leans forward as we round a bend, and I try not to notice how the movement brings her closer to me. The resort buildings rise before us, all timber and stone against the backdrop of pine-covered mountains.