Chapter 39
[Taxi]
Hours later, Stone and I stumble out of the barn, drunk on dancing while exhausted from exertion.
As we’re tripping over our feet and falling into one another, something out of the corner of my eyes catches my attention. A streak of blond hair just off the dark corner of the barn.
“Is that . . .” I narrow my eyes as the woman is pressed up against the exterior of the barn and then kissed by the person in front of her.
“Oh my God, that’s—”
“Her secret,” Stone interjects, running his arm over my shoulders and leading me toward his truck like there’s nothing to see.
Like Emerson Milton, the town mayor, isn’t getting kissed by the last person I’d expect to see with her.
As we continue to travel over the bumpy grass, I struggle with what I just saw and reckon it with what I’ve known about Stone and Emerson’s relationship.
I glance up at the man whose arm surrounds my shoulders, my heart softening even more for him.
He’s been such a good friend to her. And I should have known from the first time he explained himself that he meant what he said. He was protecting her. Her secret.
When we finally reach Stone’s truck, he helps me into the passenger seat, but before he closes the door, I reach for his shirt and tug him toward me, going in for a kiss I’ve been wanting to give him since we entered the dance.
He smiles against my mouth. “What’s that for?”
“Just for you,” I whisper, slowly pulling back. “Just for you being you.”
He tilts his head, uncertain of my meaning, then he must decide it doesn’t matter. Because he leans in to kiss me again.
“Been waiting all night to do that as well.”
I sigh. He’s so sweet.
Stone shuts my door and rounds the truck, hopping into his seat. He starts the engine with the press of a button, then turns toward me. “Got a curfew?”
He’s so cute. “Little old for curfews.”
Aunt Trudy hasn’t put any parameters on my stay at her house. The self-imposed rule of being around her every second falls on me, but Trudy is nearly a month out from her heart attack. The doctors say she’s a modern miracle, and she’ll be starting therapy soon.
Only a few more weeks, Aunt Trudy told me. I won’t need to stay any longer.
The words were only a tease from Trudy. Meaning nothing more than I wouldn’t have to linger. She knows I have the itch to paint and the need to use my gift for communities. That part of me is ingrained into who I am.
Still, what if I wanted to stay? What if I wanted Trudy and Simon, and Stone, to be a new community for me? A family.
With all our broken pieces, we could be a whole.
I glance over at Stone as he drives us away from the dance.
He seemed genuinely excited earlier this evening when I mentioned staying.
Sister, Vale had called me earlier. And I consider Genie and Enya, and all the rest of the girls. How welcoming they’ve been. How easily they’ve pulled me in, considering me one of them.
Sisters. I have my own, and yet who would ever turn down more? Who could walk away from the friendships they are offering me?
With my eyes still on him, I question—how could I leave this man?
“Can you spend the night, then?” Stone asks, oblivious to my thoughts as we barrel over the mountain road.
“Maybe we should make it midnight?” I wrinkle my nose, still concerned for Trudy’s well-being. She’d left the dance shortly after we saw her with Emory. She’ll be asleep early, as everything still zaps her energy. Still, I don’t like to leave her overnight.
He smiles as he reaches over for my hand and pulls it to his lap. “Midnight it is, Cinderella.”
Midnight. Which means we still have a little while before the clock strikes the end of another day.
And I realize Stone isn’t driving toward Trudy’s home, but his own. Except, once he pulls onto the gravel driveway, he continues past the house, driving us deeper into the darkness behind it.
“Where are we going?” I question as Stone slows his speed, and the truck bounces over the rugged two-tire lane that looks rarely traveled.
“I’m the sheriff, so while I know all the places people make out, I can’t get caught in them.” He lifts my hand and kisses the back of it. “Plus, this is really the best place in town.”
“To make out,” I confirm.
He chuckles, resting my hand back on his thigh. “Am I getting ahead of myself?” His voice is playful, while hesitant. He won’t press for anything I don’t want from him.
“Hey, don’t you remember? I’m the one who suggested a quickie earlier.
” Because I’m not stupid. Stone Sylver is one fine man, and I already know how he can wield his body against mine.
I’ve missed him since last Sunday afternoon.
The light touches and intense kisses have happened all week, but I still long for more.
Joining us together, sleeping in his arms.
“Don’t want to be quick with you, Taxi,” he admits, slowing to a stop.
Jesus. This man.
He sets the truck in Park. He turns toward me, and I catch the wiggle of his brows in the dashboard lights. “Give me two seconds.”
He pushes open his door and reaches behind the driver’s seat. Tossing a blanket over his shoulder, he also picks up a small reusable bag.
“Don’t peek,” he warns, teasingly pointing a finger at me. “Just look through the windshield a second. Count the stars.” He points toward the glass.
“What stars?” I ask, but as soon as I gaze forward, he reaches forward and shuts off the ignition, immersing us in darkness.
And I’m mesmerized by the bright display of pinpricks that look like perfectly placed dots, decorating the sky. While science can explain how stars exist, they look hung from a black curtain and the beautiful backdrop to a romantic night.
When Stone opens my door, I’m startled only because I’d been concentrating so hard.
“Cinderella.” He holds out his hand, and I set mine in his to slide off my seat. My legs are still a bit shaky from all the dancing we did, so I say, “I don’t think I can dance any—”
My breath hitches as I catch a glimpse of the truck bed.
“Stone,” I whisper.
The rim of the truck bed, along with the inside edges, are lined with lit candles. A thick blanket is spread down the center with pillows tucked against the storage box near the cab.
Silently, Stone leads me to the tailgate because I’m still too stunned by the setting to speak. He helps me up and follows after me. I slowly spin, taking in the low votives and tall hurricanes, each flame dancing in the slight breeze of the cool evening.
Stone stands behind me. “Take a seat.” His quiet, rugged voice sends additional goosebumps over my skin. Pleasant prickles of excitement.
“It’s so beautiful,” I whisper, afraid to disturb the low flames.
“So are you,” he says.
“Stone.” My breath catches.
He slides his hand down my arm, lowering himself to sit. Gently tugging at my wrist, I follow his lead, folding down beside him, still in awe of my surroundings. The low flickers. The dark sky. The man next to me.
“Where did you have all this?” I question.
Stone has fallen to his back, one hand behind his head, the other on the notch of my waist. He’s taken off his hat and set it on the slim storage box behind his head.
He knocks on the box, giving the answer to my question.
The box shortens the space, so Stone’s feet stretch onto the tailgate, where he crosses his ankles.
“Come here, baby,” he quietly commands.
Snuggling in next to him, I shiver despite the heat of him.
“Cold?”
“No.” Overwhelmed.
All of this is so unexpected. The night. The dance. Him.
He’s sturdy and kind; confident and sweet. Romantic. Not to mention, a human heater and I cuddle closer, hitching my leg over his.
We remain quiet, both looking up at the stars.
Make a wish, my mama used to say. With thousands of stars, and hundreds of dreams, which star was I supposed to wish on? What dream should I ask for? Wasn’t it a shooting star you wished upon? The ones moving across the sky.
For thousands of years those stars have existed, ever moving but never really falling out of place. Gravity keeps them aligned somehow.
Could Stone be my gravity? Allowing me to still move at my own speed but still have a sun to center myself around?
“Do you know how to read them?” I quietly ask, like I’ll break the silent spell around us, although the night is hardly devoid of noise. The rustle of the tall autumn grass in the breeze. The soft hum of crickets despite the cooling temperature. Even the flickering flames seem to whisper.
“Not as versed as I once was, but I recognize a few.” Stone points toward the sky. “See that one that makes an M or a W.”
I do not see it, but I keep looking.
Always searching.
“That’s Cassiopeia. The seated queen of the heavens.”
I hum in response. The sound of his voice is soothing, even if I don’t see what he sees.
Always chasing.
“And that one there, that looks kind of like a strung bow with an arrow, is the Swan.” He points toward another pattern, pausing a second. “Zeus in disguise.”
I settle into letting him quietly point out a few more constellations that I still don’t see.
Always waiting.
His heart is a slow drumbeat beneath my ear, and my hand rests on his belly. He aimlessly rubs his fingers along my arm.
What if I stopped spinning like the stars? Would I fall from the sky? Would I burn out my glow? Or would I become something softer, quieter, more settled?
Still.
Between the calm sound of Stone’s voice and the heat of his body against mine, I sort of melt into the night. Not sleepy or drowsy, just relaxed, just comfortable, just . . . still.
A girl could get used to this.
When I realize Stone is no longer speaking, I break the silence with a little lie. “You’re an excellent teacher.”
“And you’re not a great liar.” He chuckles against me and presses a kiss to my temple. He knows me so well.
“What are you drawing?” he asks.