Chapter Thirty-Two – Torin
I make it a point to take the long route to Fawn’s. The thought of dropping her off, watching her walk away, saying goodnight like I’m not itching to drag the hours out with her . . . Yeah, no thanks.
The road grows narrower until it becomes the secluded back roads that only locals and deer are familiar with.
My truck eats these roads like a champ, wide tires chomping down dirt.
Breezy, warm air pours in through rolled-down windows, filling my truck with the scent of pine and the lake.
Fawn’s hair keeps blowing in my direction — tangles caress her cheek.
I’m attempting not to stare, but she makes it difficult, being so fucking beautiful.
“Well, this is a very scenic way home . . .” she states, raising an eyebrow.
I’m holding the wheel with one hand, the other resting on her leg, being as nonchalant as possible, even though my heart is racing. “I just wanna spend as much time with you as I can, baby. Plus, I know a cool spot up ahead.”
She hums, evidently unconvinced, but she’s not arguing about it either. As we turn off the road onto a rocky gravel path, the truck jiggles over every bump. As we turn up a steep hill, Fawn holds the door handle as though it were a lifeline.
“Torin, where are we going?” she asks, half amused, half terrified.
“Don’t worry,” I reply, shifting the truck into a slow crawl. “When we get to the top, you’ll see.”
The forest closes in around us, pine trees towering above like walls. The moonlight seeps in as we continue to climb until finally, the trees open up to a large clearing.
And then, we’re there — my favorite overlook.
Elevated high enough to see the whole fucking world if you squint.
Down below, Ivywood glows in small clusters of bright yellow lights, and the lake reflects the moon like a piece of silvered glass.
The night sky above stretches out in a deep, rich blue, every star crystal-clear.
Fawn splays her palm out on the console, mesmerized, as if she’s never seen it before.
“Wow,” she whispers. “I’ve never been up here before . . .”
“Nice, isn’t it?” I say, glancing over at the lake. “I come up here a lot.”
She tilts forward slightly, her eyes moving over every detail. “Ivywood looks so small from here. And that lake looks—” She freezes, her breathing momentarily caught. “All these years I’ve lived here in Ivywood, I’ve never even been to the lake.”
I blink at her and reach for my cigarettes. “Really? Never?”
She shakes her head, eyes still fixed on the lights twinkling above the water.
“So, how about we make it a date night soon?” I say, flicking a cigarette out.
That catches her attention. She turns to face me, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
“I’d like that,” she finally says. “It’d be cool to watch the sunset there.”
My chest warms, and I don’t bother analyzing it. I light up, take a puff, and then release it through the window.
“I’ll make that happen, baby. So,” I ask, “you sure you enjoyed tonight?”
“That’s the fourth time you’ve asked me since we left the diner,” she teases, nudging my arm. “Honestly, Torin, I had fun. I always do when I’m around you two.”
We settle into a comfortable silence, taking in the view as if it were our own. There isn’t a word between us for a moment. The moon is low in the sky, and time seems to move in slow motion.
“Why weren’t you at the rink earlier?” she asks, breaking the silence.
Taking another puff, I let the ash fall lazily out of the window. I feel a slight constriction in my throat. “I was pissed off about the charity event,” I confess. “I needed to cool off. So, I went to see my dad . . .”
Her head snaps toward me, eyebrows knitting together. “But your father’s—” She stops, and her hand flies to her mouth, her eyes widening. “Oh my God! I just had a Dylan moment. I didn’t mean — oh God, I’m sorry.”
“Baby, it’s okay,” I say, my tone soft. I stare straight ahead at the lake, the cigarette burning low between my fingers. “I went to his grave . . .”
She inches closer without hesitation, her arm tangling with mine, and I can feel her warmth seeping into my skin. I take a longer drag of my cigarette than I should then flick it out of the window, my arm wrapping around her shoulders. She fits perfectly in my side.
“I wasn’t thinking,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all good. Really.” I slowly trace my hand up and down her arm, just to feel the texture of her skin. We both look out over the lake.
“You know,” I say, before my brain stops me, “it’s amazing to have you in my arms. There was a point when I almost wasn’t here—” The moment those words are uttered, I freeze. What the fuck! Why did I just say that?
She tilts her face up toward mine, brows drawn together. I find somewhere else to look.
“What do you mean?” She reaches up, and she catches my chin, turning my face toward hers. “Tell me.”
I swallow hard. “It’s deep,” I warn. “You don’t wanna hear it.”
“I do,” she whispers. “Please, Torin . . .”
That plea. Her eyes. The way she looks at me is like whatever I say won’t scare her off.
“I blamed myself for my father’s death.” The words escape me like they’ve been rusted shut for years. “I punched him . . . and then a couple of days later, he died of a heart attack. I was in a dark place. After the funeral, I tried to . . .”
The sentence catches. “I tried to end it all. I’m just fucking lucky the tree branch broke.”
I let out a dry, crackling laugh. My eyes burn — not from the breeze, but from all the things I’ve been burying for all these years.
Before I even blink, she swings over the seat and straddles my lap, as if some primal urge summoned her.
Her hands come up to my face, pressing it as if I were fragile.
And then, she hugs me. Not gently, not with care, but as if she’s holding onto me to keep me from escaping.
“Oh my God, Torin. I’m so glad you’re here now,” she cries into my shoulder. “I don’t know what to say—”
My hands slide up her back. “I’m okay now, baby,” I murmur into her hair, the truth and a promise tangled in one breath. “I’m okay.”
“I wish I was there for you . . .”
God . . . if she’d seen me then, broken, hollowed out, barely holding on, it would’ve destroyed me. I never want her to carry that weight. I never want her to see me like that.
“Hey, baby. It was a long time ago,” I say, placing my hand over her cheek. She raises her head, and our eyes lock in the moonlight filtering through the windshield. She looks like she’s reading every bruise on my soul.
“I’m here now, with you, and I’m okay,” I say again, just for its own sake. “Me, you, and Dylan have each other. That’s what’s important.”
She leans in, and our lips make contact, soft and grounding. Then, she pulls back a little, our breath entwining. “I’m always here for the both of you, Torin,” she whispers. “You never have to be in that dark place again.”
Swallowing, I shake my head — not in denial of her, just reeling from how much she means it. We don’t say a word from then on. We just sit there, embraced in each other, her heart against mine.
“Come on, let’s not ruin a good night. Let’s talk about something else,” I say, nudging her gently to relieve the tension between us.
“Hmm. What about your truck?” she hums, thinking.
“What about it?”
“Well, it’s very old, isn’t it?” she says, tilting her head.
“Whoa, don’t talk about her like that.” I trace a hand along the panel of the door.
“Her?”
“Yeah,” I shrug. “All my cars are female, and she isn’t old. She’s from the eighties. A classic. I rebuilt her engine myself. She’s solid as a rock.”
“I bet she is . . . So why do you like cars?”
“Because they don’t talk back and they’re easy to work with. Plus, aside from you, my truck is my baby.”
She snorts. “You know, it’s honestly adorable how you talk about your truck.”
Before I can get a word in, she moves closer to kiss my neck, slowly teasing me. “I bet she has seen plenty of action,” she whispers. “Probably right here in this spot.”
I never expected Fawn to get jealous, and it’s so fucking cute. A laugh escapes me and I nudge her back gently, just enough so I can look at her face. “Fawn Higgins, am I hearing a hint of jealousy?”
Her cheeks flush pink, but she manages a smirk to disguise it. The way her nose scrunches, how she tries to play it off like she wasn’t bothered? Yeah . . . that does something to me.
“Nope,” I say, pushing her curls behind her ear. “She’s never seen any action. And I’ve never brought anyone up here.” Her breath snags once, then she softens against me. “Just you, baby,” I whisper.
Our lips meet once again, her fingers dig into the back of my neck, holding me close.
She opens her mouth slightly, her tongue grazing mine, every muscle in my body constricting.
Our mouths move in and out of sync, like our breathing.
I find her waist with my hands, holding her in place, reveling in how she seems to sink into this moment.
The truck, the night, fuck, even the world, it all melts around us until it’s just her.
The worn leather seats start to creak as she automatically starts moving her hips in circles; she’s already driving me insane.
I feel the stiff ridge of my cock pressing against my jeans, a pulsating hunger right against her warm center.
I rip my mouth from her lips, pulling back enough to take in her flushed, beautiful face.
“Did Dylan make you come earlier, or was he selfish?” I ask.
“No, he did.” Her eyes are heavy-lidded.
A possessive growl rumbles in my chest. “How?” I demand, pressing my forehead to hers. “Tell me.”
“With his fingers,” she whispers, and a shiver runs through her.
“That’s so fucking hot.” I twirl a strand of her soft hair around my finger, pulling gently. “After that hatchet-throwing incident, I did say I’d make it up to you.”
She catches her lower lip between her teeth and I lose my train of thought entirely. “And how are you gonna do that?”