Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
T hey drove along the narrow dirt trail that was basically his private driveway. It was more or less just a path that he’d driven over enough times that it now looked like a very narrow, rough road. The windows were down, the truck’s headlights illuminated the tall grass on either side of them, close enough to brush the truck, and the flittering insects and moths.
“I had no idea you could even get a truck down here,” she said after a few minutes of silence.
“It’s not a great idea if you don’t know the area. It’s pretty marshy in spots. It’s not like this is an actual road on any map,” he said, looking over at her. “I prefer my boat and use it most of the time. But sometimes a truck makes sense.”
“Do other people drive down here?” she asked.
“Not really. If people come this deep down the bayou, it’s on boats.”
She just nodded. After a long pause she said, “But someone could drive down here. Or out of here.”
He realized she needed reassurance. He nodded. “Yes. If they knew where they were going and had something with four-wheel drive, they definitely could. Hell, someone could walk if they had good boots or shoes and knew which direction to go. It gets less marshy the further you go that direction,” he said, pointing out her window. The bayou was to their left.
“Good to know,” she murmured, her eyes on the path in front of them that was mostly hidden by grass and weeds if you didn’t know where to look.
Finally, Theo asked, “So where does this claustrophobia come from? Did you have a bad experience as a kid?”
God, it tied him up in knots to think that Savannah might have had some kind of traumatic experience that had made her fear abandonment or being left behind.
She looked over at him quickly, and he sensed her surprise.
It took her a moment to answer, and for a second, he was sure she was going to tell him to just fuck off. But she took a breath and said, “Um, no…trauma. I never got locked in anywhere or left anywhere. Nothing like that.”
He looked over at her. Her long hair was being twisted by the wind, and the moonlight shone on her face. She looked breathtakingly beautiful. Not at all like the polished City Girl he was used to seeing—and thinking was breathtakingly beautiful. Clearly, Savannah did it for him in all settings and situations.
She went on before he could reach over and wrap her hair around his hand, holding it back from her face.
“My parents just never went anywhere.” She sighed. “That sounds really stupid out loud. Who develops nervousness because of that?”
Fuck it. He reached out and took her hand. “You did. There’s nothing stupid about it. It’s real for you, and that makes it legitimate.”
He could feel her staring at him, and he looked over. Their eyes met.
Then he had to turn his attention back to the road. But she didn’t pull her hand away.
And she kept talking. “I read a lot growing up. Tons and tons of books. Always fiction. Lots of urban fantasy, where the places look and seem like our real world, but there’s magic and paranormal or supernatural characters and forces.”
He nodded, following that, but saying nothing.
“I used to beg them to go on trips,” she continued. “I wanted to see the mountains, and the desert, and the Pacific Ocean. I wanted to see ranches, and beach cottages, and big old mansions in the south. The Golden Gate Bridge, Mount Rushmore, the Vegas strip. All of the iconic places across the country that my books talked about. Hell, that tv shows and movies talked about.”
She paused and took a deep breath. Their fingers were interlaced, and he felt her fingers curl against his.
“But they never wanted to,” she said. “They didn’t understand why we would ever need to leave New York. Our own city had everything every other place had and had it bigger and better.” She shrugged. “So I never got to travel. And when I got older and understood just how elitist and strange that was, I started to get frustrated. I asked if I could go. Go on trips with friends. Spend spring break somewhere else. Or go to camp. Or get a job or an internship for the summer somewhere else. But I always got the same answer. Why would I ever want or need to leave New York City?”
That did sound strange to him, but Theo just stroked his thumb over the back of her knuckles, hoping she’d go on. He loved having a little insight into this woman. He completely understood how that situation alone would make her want to travel extensively. He just didn’t get how it fed into her anxiety.
Savannah was staring straight ahead. But she did continue. “Finally, one night after a particularly loud and long argument when I was about sixteen, my mother finally confessed that she had a horrible fear of flying. She had been on a flight as a kid that had crash landed. No one died, but, of course, she’d been traumatized and hadn’t been able to fly since. And my mother’s anxiety about her flying extended to my sister and me flying. She just couldn’t handle the idea. It was the entire reason we lived in New York City. So that she and my dad and me and my sister could have anything and everything we could ever want and need without having to ever fly anywhere else.” She sighed. “They were also upset because I was being ungrateful for that, thinking there were all these other, better places.”
“But you weren’t saying that you thought other places were better . They’re just different. You just wanted a whole, varied experience.”
She looked over at him quickly. He glanced at her again.
“Yes. Exactly,” she said.
He nodded. “That makes total sense. Wanting a piece of pumpkin pie once in a while and finding it fucking delicious doesn’t mean that blackberry pie won’t always be your favorite.”
There was a beat of silence, and then Savannah laughed.
He looked over with a grin. “What? I’m right. And it’s the same thing. Basically.”
She nodded, grinning. “You’ve got a point. I never thought of it that way. But…yeah.”
He smiled. He’d made her laugh. Fuck, that felt good.
But he felt for her whole family. That was all a lot more serious than pie, of course.
He’d never been on a plane himself, but he wasn’t afraid of it. He just didn’t want to. And he couldn’t imagine being involved in a fucking plane crash. Jesus.
Savannah sighed softly and continued her story, looking around as they came to a wider, more even dirt road that ran perpendicular to the trail he’d cut through the grass. There was still only grass and weeds to see, but there were trees off in the distance along the horizon.
He turned his truck to the right.
“So, yeah…I felt like shit after learning what my mom had been through. But after that it seemed to just add to my feelings of being stuck. I couldn’t ask for us to go anywhere after that because who does that? My mom couldn’t fly. And for the next couple of years, I felt resentful too. Finally, when it was time to apply to colleges, I applied to all the local ones, but also to several far away. I chose LSU because it was far away and because the culture would be completely unlike New York.” She shook her head. “My parents were furious. They refused to pay my tuition for any school outside of New York. I got some scholarships, and my grandmother—my father’s mother—stepped in and paid the rest, but my parents never came to visit, would not pay for plane tickets home for me to visit, nothing. My mother got sick every time I got on a plane to go home for holidays, so I stopped going more than once a year or so. I even lied to my friends sometimes and told them my parents were skiing or in Europe for the holidays, so they didn’t think it was weird I wasn’t going home. It’s all been pretty awful.”
Damn. He squeezed her hand. “So you felt kind of stuck in Louisiana, too,” Theo guessed.
She shrugged. “Yes and no. Like I know that I’m not physically stuck here. I can fly to other places, I can drive, I can get on a train. But the idea that my mother doesn’t want me to does mess with me emotionally. And that if I go home, she’ll worry about how I got there and how I’m getting back.” She sighed again. “It’s kind of terrible. And I felt bad putting my grandmother in the middle, so I didn’t want to ask her for money all the time, and I didn’t have a lot of extra spending money to be flying all over, so I still haven’t traveled much. It’s why I wanted a job that would have me travel as a part of the responsibilities. It’s paid for, and I can rationalize it by saying I have to.”
“Is your mom what kept you from actually becoming an airline attendant?”
She looked over at him. “How did you know I thought about becoming an airline attendant?”
He shrugged. Dammit. She was going to figure out quickly that he was a little obsessed with her if he wasn’t careful. “I overheard you talking about it at Ellie’s one time.”
“Oh.” Then she nodded. “Yeah. I thought that would be perfect, but that would have killed my mother. I would have had to lie to her about my job, and it all gets so exhausting as it is.”
“It sounds like a lot.”
“It is. I hate feeling guilty about wanting to travel, I feel bad for my mom, but I hate feeling like I can’t do something because of how it makes her feel. And then I feel bad for not wanting to protect her.”
They finally made it to the main road. It was still dirt, but two trucks could pass one another here and there weren’t dips and holes that would rattle your teeth. There was a big wooden sign that had AUTRE painted in bright green letters with an arrow pointing to the right.
There. That would show her that not only was it possible to get back to civilization from where the cabins sat, but it was easy as well.
Theo put the truck into park and turned on his seat. “You shouldn’t have to protect her.”
Savannah turned toward him too. “Shouldn’t I? Isn’t that what you do when you’re a family? When you love someone?”
See, when she said stuff like that, it was really hard to look at her as a prissy, pencil-skirt-wearing City Girl he just wanted to get dirty. She was more and more real . And more and more someone he liked.
“Yes,” he admitted. He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. “But her love for you should make it so that she wants your dreams and your happiness too.”
Savannah nodded. “I know. She does feel bad. For the most part, we just don’t talk about it. We kind of pretend that I come home to visit via car, no matter how far away I am. We just don’t say ‘airport’ or ‘flight’ or anything related when I’m there visiting.”
Theo blew out a breath. “She probably needs therapy,” Theo said bluntly.
But Savannah wasn’t offended. “Yeah. She does.”
And now Theo wanted Savannah to travel. A lot. All over the world. Wherever she wanted to go.
Which meant she definitely couldn’t stay here on the bayou with him.
Which meant he needed to stop having any deeper or softer feelings for her.
Dammit.
“So, you see how to get back to town,” he said, pointing out the window unnecessarily.
“Yeah. Easy.”
“Exactly.” He met her eyes. “You’re not stuck here.”
God, why did that feel like it had a whole bunch of extra meaning? Not only was she a City Girl and he knew better than to try to convince her to stay, but this one legitimately didn’t want to be stuck on the bayou.
She wet her lips. “Okay.” She paused. Then said, “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
Before he said, or did, anything stupid—like kissing her and asking her if she’d take him on an airplane for the first time—he pulled the truck up onto the main road, whipped around, and started back down the dirt road he’d driven hundreds of time.
Back toward the cabin he loved, nestled along the bayou, where he could be alone, just outside the town where he’d spent most of his life and where he’d always planned to spend the remainder of it.
So why did he suddenly have the desire to see Mount Rushmore and the Golden Gate Bridge?
Fuck .
“Can I ask you a question?” Savannah asked after about two minutes of silence.
No. That seemed like a very bad idea.
“Okay.”
“Do you feel the same way about Autre, and the bayou, that my parents feel about New York? Is that why you never leave?”
Yeah, see, that was definitely a little confusing. He could relate to her parents. Not the fear part, but the I’ve-got-everything-I-need-right-here part. The idea that just being home was where he was happiest and he didn’t need anything more.
Yet, he was fully Team Savannah in her story. He wanted her to have everything she wanted and fuck everyone who felt differently or was trying to hold her back.
He cleared his throat and shifted on his seat. “Yeah,” he finally said. “This is home. It’s got everything I need. I’ve never felt the desire to go anywhere else.”
He could feel her studying him, but he fought the urge to look over and make eye contact now.
“Your parents still live here in Autre?”
“No, actually.” He took a deep breath. “My brother was killed when we were teenagers. An explosion at the community center. A freak gas line leak. Killed several people. He was one of them. After that, my mom couldn’t stay here. And my dad had to go with her to keep the marriage together. They’re in North Carolina with her family—her mom and dad and siblings.”
Savannah was so quiet for so long, he had to look over.
“Oh my God, Theo, I didn’t know about any of that.” Her hand tightened on his. “I’m so sorry.”
He cleared his throat again. “Thanks. It was a long time ago, but it’s still hard sometimes. He’s a lot of the reason I don’t want to leave Autre. Every memory I have of him is here. This is where my family was whole and happy. Autre is woven into things like my love for the bayou, for football, for Christmas, for stargazing…all the things that make me think home. I feel like none of that would feel right anywhere else. This place is so much a part of how I became who I am. And I’m—” He had to swallow as the words rushed up. “I’m hurt that my mom left so easily.”
He'd shared all of that with Kelsey too. He knew now that his love for Autre and her dislike for the little town would have always come between them and it was good she’d left before they’d done something more serious like get married, but at the time her distaste for his hometown had just hurt.
Savannah squeezed his hand again.
He coughed lightly, fighting down the lump of emotion. “But my friends here are like family. The Landrys were always like my family. This place just feels…right to me.”
Now he couldn’t look at her. She obviously felt differently about where she’d grown up. And that was fine. They didn’t have to agree on this.
But it bothered him that they didn’t. More than it should.
“Have you ever seen the Grand Canyon?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“Have you ever wanted to?”
“No.” He looked over but looked away quickly. “Never been on an airplane.”
“Oh.” Her voice was quiet.
And yep, he heard the disappointment.
“What do you love so much about the bayou?” she asked.
He took a moment to answer. “It’s not just the bayou itself,” he said. “I do love it. It’s got its own unique beauty and all. But it’s just that this is home. I want to protect it because it’s where I’m from and those of us who were put here should take care of this corner of the world. Just like those who were set down in the desert, or in the mountains, or along the lakes, or whatever, should take care of those. That just makes sense to me.” He looked over at her. “If the Universe had plopped me down and raised me up in the middle of Ohio with the Landrys, I’d love it just as much and be working to protect it.”
“So it’s about family and your roots and history here more than the actual place,” Savannah said.
“Yeah. Home is where the heart is,” he said. He looked at her again. “Right?”
She was staring out the windshield. She didn’t answer.
“Where’s your heart, Savannah?”
She glanced at him. “Maybe that’s the thing,” she said slowly with a small frown.
Theo felt his chest squeeze for some reason. “What?”
“Maybe that’s what I’m actually looking for. My heart.”
Well… damn. What was he supposed to say to that?
This woman was trouble.
She wasn’t what he’d expected. She wasn’t what he’d thought she’d be.
He’d put her in one of the little boxes where he could keep her neatly labeled and away from the other things he didn’t want her messing with, but she kept poking holes in that box.
In fact, she’d just ripped a big chunk out of one of the sides.
They didn’t talk the rest of the way back to the cabins. Theo pulled the truck in next to his and finally let go of her hand. He killed the engine. Then he turned to her and held out the keys.
She frowned. “What?”
“Here. Take them with you.”
She eyed them with suspicion. “Why?”
“So you’ve got them in case you need them.”
“I don’t.”
“They’ll be a sort of security blanket.” He jingled them. “If I need to leave, I’ve got the boat.”
She looked at the keys. Then, with a sigh, took them. “If I leave, I lose.”
“You lose my endorsement,” he said with a nod. Because if he said anything else she wouldn’t believe him anyway. “But the city council is still meeting next Thursday. You’ll still have a chance to convince them your project is a good idea.”
“They won’t agree with me if you’re against it.”
He lifted a shoulder. “It’ll be harder for you. But you’re up for it.”
She tipped her head, studying him. “I could probably make a case for the fact that you’re protesting only because you’re really just a hermit and don’t want to share your space with anyone else.”
He gave her a grin. “Now you’re starting to figure it out.”
“You really like being alone that much?”
He resisted reaching for her. If he did, he’d do a hell of a lot more than hold her hand. As if was, he wasn’t going to be able to forget how soft her skin was. “It completely depends on the people I’m with. I definitely don’t mind my own company.”
She took a breath. “It is crazy quiet down here.”
He nodded.
“I mean, I’ve been to some places that are really quiet. Especially at night. And I like it. But this…” She looked around. “This is a different kind of quiet.”
He nodded. “It is. Small towns are quiet when the people get quiet. This is the kind of quiet that happens because there just aren’t people.”
She nodded. “This is a nice quiet.”
“You can maybe see why I don’t really want a human touch here.”
She pressed her lips together, studying him in the dim light. “Maybe,” she finally said.
“I’ll take maybe. For now.”
“I do like knowing that there’s someone nearby. Or someone coming by at some point.”
“I’m right here if you need anything, Savannah.” His voice was huskier than he’d intended. “I would never leave you all alone.”
It was too dark to really tell, but he felt like he’d startled her.
She nodded. “My anxiety definitely feels better.”
Some of the tightness that had banded around his chest loosened. “I’m glad.”
“Are there other people out here, and I just don’t know it?”
He hesitated. “I’m not sure what you want to hear.”
Finally, she smiled. “Just knowing that there is a person next door and that it’s actually someone I know, has helped a lot. It doesn’t really matter if there are other people.”
“Good. Because there aren’t.”
She laughed softly. “Got it.”
“I mean, you could potentially walk to the next cabin, but it would take you quite a while.”
She held up the truck keys and jingled them. “But I have a truck now.”
He grinned. “That you do.”
They both got out of the truck, meeting at the tailgate.
“Well, guess I should head back to the cabin then,” she said. “I’ve been so anxious that I haven’t even started in on my relaxation.”
“Haven’t exfoliated anything?” He let his eyes drop to her long, bare legs.
Her smile turned a little sly, and he really preferred that to the soft vulnerability that made him want to wrap her in his arms and protect her from everything. Even her own self-castigating thoughts. “Nope. Haven’t been naked at all. Yet.”
Now it was heat that jabbed him low and deep in the gut. “Well, you better get started. Wouldn’t want to miss any of that.”
She started up the little drive where his truck sat but stopped on the road and looked back. “By the way, the gumbo was delicious. I also appreciated the fancy folds to the towels, and the orange vanilla soap smells really good. I can’t wait to use it.” Then she started off toward her cabin.
Theo opened his mouth to deny that he was the one who had folded the towels or bought the special soap.
But he closed it again without saying anything. One, because she seemed pleased to think that he’d done that.
And two, because he had.