28. Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Eight
Luke
The morning sun is rising higher in the sky by the time we turn onto the unmarked dirt road. Lila’s old car, Agatha, kicks up dust behind us. We’ve been driving for about two hours, leaving behind the constant buzz of Jacksonville for increasingly remote territory. The last town we passed through was so small that it barely qualified as a town at all.
“Are you sure we’re still in Florida?” I tease, glancing at Lila in the passenger seat. She’s curled up with her feet tucked under her, looking completely at home despite the rough road.
“Born and raised, remember?” Her smile is soft in the fading light. “Take the next left at the old oak with the twisted trunk. ”
I follow her directions, amazed at how she can distinguish one tree from another out here. The dense forest presses in on both sides of the narrow road, Spanish moss draping the ancient oaks like silver curtains. It’s beautiful in a wild, untamed way—nothing like the manicured parks and beaches I’m used to.
“I didn’t even know there were private properties in the Ocala National Forest,” I admit, carefully navigating around a fallen branch.
“My great-great-grandfather settled this land in the 1800s,” Lila explains. “When they established the national forest in 1908, our family was allowed to keep the property. A few other old families, too.” She points ahead. “There’s the gate.”
The metal gate is almost hidden by vegetation, but Lila jumps out to unlock the padlock and chain. Once through, the road gets even narrower, winding through towering pines and massive live oaks. Then suddenly, the trees open up to reveal a clearing, and I catch my breath.
The cabin sits in a natural hollow, surrounded by about two acres of maintained land that gives way to the wild forest beyond. It’s rustic but well-maintained, with weathered wood siding and a tin roof that gleams in the rays of sunlight. A wrap-around porch hugs the structure, complete with an old porch swing that makes me immediately picture holding Lila there under the stars.
“Home sweet home,” Lila says softly. “At least for the next couple of weeks.”
I park next to the cabin and kill the engine. The silence is immediate and complete. No traffic, no helicopters, no screaming fans or clicking cameras—just katydids starting their evening chorus and a whip-poor-will calling from somewhere in the forest.
“This is incredible,” I breathe.
Lila beams. “Wait until you see inside.”
We grab our bags from the back, and Lila leads the way up the porch steps, fishing an old key from beneath the front mat. The wooden boards creak welcomingly under our feet, and I notice little touches that speak of years of family care—fresh paint on the window frames and new screens in the windows.
Inside, the cabin is small but perfectly proportioned. The main room combines a living area and kitchen, with exposed wooden beams overhead and a stone fireplace dominating one wall. The kitchen might be compact, but I notice it has all the essential equipment Lila would need. She’s already eyeing it with that look she gets when she’s planning to cook .
“Bedroom’s through there.” She points to a door off the main room.”Bathroom’s attached. It’s not fancy, but—“
I silence her with a kiss, unable to hold back any longer. She melts against me, her hands sliding up my chest as I cup her face. When we break apart, her cheeks are flushed.
“It’s perfect,” I tell her.
She bites her lip, looking up at me through her lashes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I brush my thumb across her cheek. “Just like you.”
She rolls her eyes, but I can see her fighting a smile. “Smooth talker. Help me unload the groceries?”
We fall into an easy rhythm, putting away the supplies we picked up on the drive. Lila moves around the kitchen like she’s done this a hundred times before, and I suppose she has. I can picture her here through the years—as a child helping her grandmother cook, as a teenager escaping the world, and as a young woman finding her path.
“You love it here,” I observe, watching her arrange items in the old refrigerator.
“It’s where I learned to cook,” she says, straightening up. “Grandma and I would spend weeks here in the summer. She taught me all her recipes right here.” Her voice softens with memory. “After she died, I would come to the cabin. It helped, being surrounded by her favorite place.”
I wrap my arms around her from behind, pulling her against my chest. She sighs and leans back into me.
“Thank you for sharing this with me,” I murmur against her hair.
“It’s the perfect place to hide out.”
I chuckle. “Not exactly how I planned to start our relationship.”
“Oh?” She turns in my arms, raising an eyebrow. “You had plans?”
“Maybe.” I can’t help but smile at her playful tone. “They definitely involved less paparazzi and more actual dates.”
“This counts as a date,” she declares. “A very long, very private date.”
“I like the sound of that.” I lean down to kiss her again, but she ducks away with a laugh.
“First, I need to check the generator and make sure everything’s running properly. Then I’ll make us some lunch.”
“I can help,” I offer, following her to the back door .
She pauses with her hand on the knob, giving me an amused look. “With the generator or the meal?”
“Both? Neither? Whatever keeps me close to you.”
Her expression softens. “You’re already close to me, Luke. That’s kind of the point of all this.”
The simple truth of it hits me then—we’re here, together—starting something real. No more having to pretend, no more holding back. Just us, in this beautiful hidden place, with nothing but time.
As if reading my thoughts, Lila stretches up on her tiptoes and kisses me softly. “Come on, rockstar. Let me show you how we rough it in the forest.”
The day unfolds slowly and peacefully. We check the generator (which Lila handles with surprising expertise). We have a simple lunch—just sandwiches, if you can call anything that Lila prepares simple.
Afterward, she shows me the different trails that lead through the forest. As dinner time approaches, I help her prepare a quick but delicious meal. If anything, my appetite is even more evident, but Lila just laughs, stating it has something to do with the fresh air.
As night falls, we settle on the porch swing, listening to the chorus of frogs and keeping an eye out for deer in the clearing.
Lila fits perfectly against my side, her head resting on my shoulder. The gentle back-and-forth of the swing matches the rhythm of our breathing, and for the first time in months, I feel completely at peace.
“What are you thinking about?” Lila asks softly.
I press a kiss to her temple. “How grateful I am that you had this escape plan ready.”
She laughs quietly. “I wouldn’t call it a plan exactly. More like... a hope?”
“You hoped we’d need to hide from the press?”
“I hoped we’d need somewhere to be alone together,” she corrects, snuggling closer. “The press part is just an inconvenient bonus.”
I tilt her chin up, meeting her eyes in the growing darkness. “We have two whole weeks of being alone together.”
“Whatever will we do with all that time?” Her voice is innocent, but the sultry look in her eyes is not .
Instead of answering, I kiss her, slow and deep, pouring everything I feel into it. She responds eagerly, turning in my arms until she’s practically in my lap, her fingers threading through my hair.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard, and the swing is swaying erratically.
“Maybe we should take this inside,” Lila suggests, her voice husky.
“Probably wise,” I agree, though I can’t resist stealing another kiss. “Wouldn’t want to break your family’s porch swing.”
She stands, taking my hand and pulling me up. “Come on. I’ll show you the bedroom.”
As I follow her inside, I send up a silent thank you to whatever twist of fate brought us here—to this place and to this new beginning.
We have two weeks of solitude ahead of us, and I plan to make every second count.
The mid-morning sun streams through the bedroom windows as I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist. Lila’s just crawled out of bed pulled on some hot pink panties, and is reaching for a t-shirt.
“Babe?” I call out. “Have you seen my—“
The sound of tires and an engine cuts me off. Through the front window, I catch sight of a truck pulling up.
“Lila?” Turning to her as three doors slam and voices drift up to the porch.
“That’s my dad’s truck.” She appears beside me, her eyes now wide open.
Before either of us can do more than sink further back into the bedroom, the screen door creaks open.
“Lila?” a woman’s voice calls out. “Honey, we brought breakfast!”
I’m standing there in nothing but a towel, my hair still wet, and Lila’s in my t-shirt from last night. Her hair is still mussed from our morning in bed, and there’s no mistaking what we’ve been up to.
“Lila? Are you—Oh! ”
Mrs. Jeffers stops dead in the doorway to the bedroom, a picnic basket in her arms. Behind her, a teenage girl lets out a squeak that could probably shatter glass.
“Oh my God, you’re… you’re Luke Sterling! And you’re in the bedroom with my sister!”
“Lily Marie!” Her father’s voice booms from the main room. “What are you—“ He appears behind his wife and daughter, his face turning from confusion to thunderous in record time.
Lila moves to stand slightly in front of me, though given our respective heights, it doesn’t hide much. “Mom, Dad, Lily... this is Luke. Luke, this is... well, my family. Who we weren’t expecting.”
“It’s nice to meet you all,” I manage, trying to maintain some dignity while clutching my towel. “I’d shake hands, but...”
“Perhaps,” Mr. Jeffers says through gritted teeth, “we should give you a moment to get dressed.”
Lila gives me an apologetic look as we both hurriedly throw on some clothes and walk into the main living area.
“It’s nice to meet you all,” I say, trying to ignore Mr. Jeffers’ increasingly stern expression. “Lila’s told me so much about you.”
“Funny,” Mr. Jeffers says quietly. “She hasn’t mentioned you.”
“Jonas,” Mrs. Jeffers chides, but she’s looking between Lila and me with concern. “Though I have to admit, when you said you needed the cabin for a while, we didn’t expect...”
“Wait!” Lily interrupts, phone in hand. “Is this why Luke’s all over TMZ? They’re saying he broke up with Crystal Davidson because—“
“Lily Marie!” Both parents snap at once.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, but her eyes are still wide with curiosity and excitement.
Lila squeezes my hand. “Why don’t we all sit down and eat the breakfast you brought? And Luke and I will explain everything.”
The next hour is simultaneously awkward and enlightening. We gather around the small kitchen table, eating the scrambled eggs and bacon that Lila’s mother brought. We tell them about how we met, about Marcus and Crystal, and about needing somewhere quiet until the media circus dies down. Her mother listens with increasing understanding while Lily practically vibrates with questions .
Mr. Jeffers, however, remains silent throughout, watching me with the kind of intensity that would make lesser men squirm.
“Well,” Mrs. Jeffers says finally, “at least you’re not the only Wild Band celebrity we know. I take it Sam Ryder is a friend of yours?”
“That’s right,” I say, having forgotten. “Lila and Sam went to school together.”
“Yeah, Sam grew up around here.” Lila nods. “Our families are friends.”
“Young man,” Mr. Jeffers says suddenly, “Would you help me check the generator? It’s been acting up lately.”
It’s not a request.
“Dad,” Lila starts, but I squeeze her shoulder.
“I’d be happy to help,” I say, following him outside.
We walk in silence until we reach the generator shed. Mr. Jeffers turns to face me, arms crossed.
“So,” he says, “you’re seeing my daughter.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you thought hiding out here was the answer to what’s happening?”
I meet his gaze steadily. “I thought giving Lila space to decide how she wants to handle the publicity was the answer. She’s private, and I respect that.”
He studies me for a long moment. “You’re aware of what dating you might mean for her? The attention, the scrutiny?”
“Very aware. It’s something we’ve discussed at length.”
“And your... lifestyle? The touring, wild parties, and women—“
“With all due respect, sir,” I interrupt carefully, “I’ve never been that type of rockstar. Your daughter... well, she’s different too. She’s special.”
Something in his expression shifts. “You care for her.”
It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “Yes, sir. I do.”
He nods slowly. “She’s strong, my Lila. Stronger than most people realize. But she’s also got the biggest heart of anyone I know. Break it, and we’ll have problems.”
“If I ever hurt her, I’ll hand you the shovel myself.”
To my surprise, he laughs. “Good answer.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Now, about that generator...”