Chapter 31
Wren
“Ineeded this.”
On a breath, the words leave me, barely louder than the lap of water against the side of the boat. My face tilts toward the sky, eyes closed, sunglasses abandoned somewhere near my hip. The sun warms my cheeks like it knows how badly I needed to be here.
A strong arm snakes over my shoulder as warm lips land on my temple.
“You did,” Jett whispers.
“You’re one to talk. When was the last time you took a break?”
Jett huffs a laugh. “Fair point.”
The lake smells like summer, gasoline, and sunscreen. The perfect mixture for a hot, sunny day. Country music hums through the speakers as Baker sings along with the familiar tune.
I lean into Jett’s side, falling into our familiar connection. Our bare skin meets—his shirtless chest and my exposed skin from my barely-there bikini—and it ignites a flame deep inside me.
The boat drifts lazily as we coast through the water toward our anchoring spot at Boater’s Beach—a shallow inlet where boats anchor to the sandy bottom.
It’s a popular spot in the summer, with most boaters parking to swim, relax, and visit with fellow boaters.
Throughout the summer, a semi-pontoon makes its appearance with local bands playing.
On those days, you’ll easily see a hundred and fifty boats tied together, enjoying the beach party.
In high school, we’d pack coolers full of deli meat, snacks, and drinks, only to spend several hours out in the murky-green water.
Baker’s family has always had boats. It wasn’t uncommon for them to let us borrow the pontoon and send us on our way.
Our summers were spent on the water, and it’s been way too long since I let myself enjoy the lake named after my family.
A splash sounds from the side of the boat, capturing my attention.
Davis stands in the chest-deep water as he helps guide the boat closer to land.
Jett and I sit back as Davis, Baker, and Greer discuss where we should anchor, ultimately deciding to beach the boat so they don’t have to mess with anchors.
Most of the group is here; we’re only missing Heath, but it’s his turn to be on shift. Levi had the day off and brought Audrey with us. She’s sitting opposite me, her tiny frame on full display, hair tied back behind a baseball cap, as she soaks in the sun’s rays.
Greer moves around the boat, adjusting beach bags and gathering any items needing to be tucked away. She’s our own little Mother Hen, situating everything while Baker stands from the captain’s chair, watching Davis navigate the boat from the water.
I adjust awkwardly in my seat, letting out a small groan.
“You okay?” Jett asks, concern lacing his voice.
I nod. “A little sore.”
A sexy smirk spreads across his lips as his gaze meets mine. “What from?”
I roll my eyes, knowing damn well he’s aware of why I’m sore. I haven’t had this much sex in… I can’t remember the last time. Probably when we were two hormonal teenagers who spent our free time learning each other’s bodies.
My mind drifts back to this morning and how it felt to wake up in Jett’s arms. Sometime in the early morning hours, we managed to fall asleep. Both of us were a tangled mess of naked limbs, fumbling in the sheets as the sound of a phone ringing woke us from the dead.
Jett answered his phone half-asleep, voice rough as his arms tightened around my waist, afraid our bubble was about to burst. I listened to him grumble something about “yeah, we’ll be there” and “give us an hour.” Everything in that moment felt normal. Like we were starting our lives together.
We moved through the morning on autopilot, like this was an everyday routine.
He made us coffee while I made my bed. My shower turned into a shared shower with more touching than washing.
I rifled through my drawers looking for a swimsuit—none of them felt appropriate for a day on the lake, but Jett said “fuck it” as he convinced me to wear the few scraps of fabric I have on now.
Tossing on a sundress, I watched as he brushed his teeth with my spare toothbrush.
As we drove into town toward his house for him to get his swim trunks, the cab was filled with comfortable silence as we listened to our old playlist. Stripped of heavy conversation and the past, we simply existed in the aftermath of last night.
With soft touches and stolen glances, we drove the ten minutes to his house.
Everything felt domesticated, leaving me with hope.
The sound of a beer cracking open has my attention snapping back to the present. Jett rummages through my bag, pulling out a bottle of sunscreen and gesturing toward me in a silent question. Nodding, he flips the top as I position myself so my back is to his front.
Strong, calloused hands work the lotion into my skin. A low moan escapes my lips as Jett groans behind me.
“There’s a child present,” Levi grits out from somewhere behind us.
“I’m not a child,” Audrey protests.
“Not the point,” her dad grumbles. “Keep it PG.”
“It’s not like she’s unaware of heavy petting,” Baker tosses over his shoulder as he slides into the green water.
Levi lets out a curse as I flick my attention to Audrey. Her cheeks are pink, and my eyes widen.
“I’m getting in the water,” she blurts.
“There’s a story there,” I whisper to Jett, who flinches.
“She’s like my daughter. I’m not thinking about her and some boy who doesn’t deserve her.”
“She’s fourteen, going on fifteen. Do you remember what we were like at that age?”
“Enough.” Levi glares.
I raise my hand in defense. “I’m simply asking, has she had the talk?”
Both Jett and Levi shiver, and I take that as a no, mentally noting to have a girls' night with Audrey.
With the boat shut off, Greer wheels out a giant speaker she connects to her phone’s Bluetooth.
“Pontoon” blasts over the speakers, and my shoulders move to the beat.
With my back freshly covered in sunscreen, I return the favor for Jett, and with fresh beers in hand, we join the others in the water.
I squeal as the cool water meets my warm skin.
Davis chuckles. “Colder than the Pacific?”
“Nothing’s colder than the Pacific.”
“I still can’t believe you lived in LA,” Audrey adds as she runs her fingers over the water, leaving ripples in their wake.
Jett wraps his arm around my shoulder, tugging me close, keeping me from fumbling over my feet in the water. He taps his canned beer against mine, his bright eyes shimmering in the sunlight as he stares down at me. “But we’re glad she’s back.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Greer says, raising her can in my direction. The others follow suit, raising their cans.
My chest heats, and I rub the spot over my heart.
Happiness. That’s what this feeling is. How long has it been since I've been genuinely happy? Not having to play the part of a reality TV star faking niceties to people who never cared about me. It’s been too long since I’ve relaxed and allowed myself to be who I am without fear of saying the wrong thing and waiting for the punishment that followed.
Hours slip by as the sun lowers closer toward the horizon, with still plenty of daylight left.
I feel the buzz of alcohol thrum through my body, sending sparks across my skin.
Jett watches me when I laugh at Davis missing the make-shift beer pong table by a mile.
His gaze lingers like he’s memorizing something, almost afraid he’s going to wake up from a dream.
“What?” I ask, tilting my head.
“Nothing,” he says, but his hand drifts down my back until it’s cupping my ass, fingers tracing my exposed skin from my cheeky bottoms. “You look…good.”
“Good?”
He nods. “Happy. Beautiful. Like this is where you’re meant to be. There’s a spark in your eyes you didn’t have when you first came home.”
I lean into his shoulder, resting my head there. “I'm happy.”
Squealing grabs our attention as we watch Greer and Audrey hit the volleyball back and forth. Baker and Davis are complaining about a rule for their game as if we haven’t been playing drinking games for years.
“Audrey’s come a long way,” Jett tells Levi.
“Can’t believe I'm saying this, but your sister makes a good coach.”
I snort a laugh, and their attention swings my way. “Why’s that funny?”
I play it off and bark out a cough. “Sorry, just coughing. Swallowed wrong.”
Levi eyes me skeptically. Don’t worry, Levi, your secrets are safe with me. He might not have flirted back with Saylor, but I didn’t miss the way he kept his eyes on her.
Conversation flows easily as we drink and dance along to the music. Baker talks about all the gigs he has planned for the summer, and when I poke him about taking his music career more seriously, he tells me this is exactly where he’s meant to be. He loves his job as an EMT and playing on the side.
Davis is the hardest to get a read on. I was shocked to see him waiting for us on the boat when we pulled up, but I’m glad he was able to come out for the afternoon.
Growing up, he was always the more serious one of the group.
A lot of it because his dad was the principal and there were always more eyes on him, but his broodiness is at a new level.
Greer, Audrey, and I sit in floats as we sip our drinks—nonalcoholic for Auds—gossiping about the town.
Audrey asked why Greer and Baker weren’t dating, and I spluttered my drink at how red Greer’s face went.
She acts as if they’re sibling-like, but we all know that’s bullshit.
One of them needs to open their eyes before it’s too late.
Eventually, the engine roars back to life, signaling the end of our day. With everything loaded, we make our way toward Sunset Shores—a lakeside restaurant and resort. Laughter clings to us like dripping of lake water as we sing and dance the whole boat ride.
Jett drops me off at my cottage after nine. The sky melts into a colorful afterglow as twilight descends.
As I reach for the handle, Jett’s warm hand on my chilled skin holds me in place.
“I had a great time today.”
“I did too. I missed this, J.”
He leans in, kissing me sweet and slow. “I missed you.”
My cheeks heat, and it’s not from the summer air. I bite my lip as I let myself out of his truck and start up the sidewalk. Climbing the stairs, I hear footsteps behind me. Turning around, I find Jett running after me.
“Forget something?”
“Yeah,” he answers, taking the front porch steps two at a time. “This.”
Jett’s hands grip both sides of my face before he presses his lips against mine in a kiss that takes my breath away. I moan against his mouth, and before I know it, he’s pulling back.
“Needed one more kiss.”
Shaking my head, I reach for the doorknob before twisting it. “Bye, Jett.
“See you later, Whiskey.” And with a wink, he’s bounding back down the stairs.
Unease prickles along my spine as I step inside, my smile fading. Flicking on the lamp, I look around my living room. Nothing seems amiss. Dropping my bag at my feet, I step deeper into my house and toward the kitchen.
Turn around and call Jett. Hell, your brother is a sheriff officer, call him.
But I don’t listen to myself. I’m convinced I’ve hyped up the situation. Last night’s donor check with Elias’s initials is sparking sudden worry.
I step into the kitchen, scanning the room. Everything seems to be in place. The coffeepot still has leftover coffee. Mugs are on the drying rack. Mail sits on the corner of the counter.
But the air feels…off. I can’t quite put my finger on why, but it does.
Walking around the counter, a breeze drifts down the hall, freezing me to my spot. Taking a deep breath, I push open the slightly closed bathroom door. A rush of air smacks my face, and I gasp.
The curtain flaps in the breeze, the sound startling me.
My pulse ticks as I cross the room slowly.
Fear courses through my veins as I reach for the shower curtain.
This is the part in movies where the masked man hides behind the curtain before jumping out and stabbing the naive girl who stayed in the house.
One.
Two.
Three.
I count before ripping open the curtain and jumping back. Nothing.
No masked man hiding behind the curtain. As much as masked men are trending in the romance book world, that’s not my kind of hero. I’m too much of a chicken. Give me the rugged cowboy in the tight Wranglers.
Wait, focus, Wren. We’re not dreaming of fictional boyfriends right now. You might have an actual problem on your hands. Wake up, woman!
Turning on my heel, I walk to the window. Darkness has fallen over the field behind my house, and I can’t escape the feeling of being watched. I grip the top of the window, yanking it closed and flipping the lock as fast as I can.
You’re paranoid. No one is out there.
As I turn away, a chill slides down my spine, leaving a shiver in its wake. I can’t explain the sensation putting me on edge.
I glance over my shoulder, prepared to find eyes watching me, but I see nothing.
Still, I yank the curtains closed before moving through the cottage, taking time to check every lock on every window and door, each closet, and around every corner. With the cottage secured, I still can’t shake the feeling of being watched, even though every curtain is closed.
Paranoia is a dangerous feeling. It slithers up your spine, wrapping its creepy fingers over every inch of your being, leaving you with crippling dread.
I tell myself it’s nothing as I go upstairs to prepare myself for a sleepless night.