Chapter 39 “Out of the Woods” - Taylor Swift
“Out of the Woods” - Taylor Swift
Maeve
If anyone ever dares you to venture into the forest surrounding Belgrave Park, say no. Actually, if anyone ever dares you to go into any forest anywhere, say no. They’re nothing but a cesspool of danger.
As I swat away the branch currently trying to kill me, Pierce looks back over his shoulder. “You okay?”
I return his concerned look with a scowl. “Tell me we’re nearly there.”
He sighs and continues walking down the path leading deeper into the woods. “How am I supposed to know how much further? This is your property.”
“By that logic, you’re intimately acquainted with quite a few properties,” I grumble, trudging after him.
“The only thing in this general vicinity I’m intimately acquainted with is you.” He says it so quietly, I almost miss it. In fact, I’m not even sure he meant for me to hear it in the first place.
We’re on a “treasure hunt,” which is code for “something Lux thought was funny and cute but which I’m definitely going to kill her for later.
” The first five clues were hidden in the house or gardens, but the last one drove us into the forest, with its towering pines, scurrying animals, and disgusting scent of decay.
“It’s not that bad,” Pierce said when I voiced my thoughts out loud earlier.
“Says the guy probably deciding where he’ll bury my body.”
Our mission at the moment is to find a hollow tree, and judging by the number of trees in this place in general, it looks like we’ll be here for the rest of the year.
“I’m going to murder Lux,” I say, stopping to catch my breath.
They fortunately allowed me to change shoes before we started, but it’s not like I packed my bags with wandering through the wilderness like a mad person in mind.
Saylor offered to let me wear her boots, but they were two sizes too big, and lifting that much extra weight with my feet seemed like a bad idea.
I settled on my Miu Miu slingback ballerinas, not because they seemed practical, but because they were the only flats I brought with me.
Reaching down, I dislodge the millionth pine needle from beneath my heel.
“Want a piggyback ride?” Pierce asks, coming back to stand beside me.
Shooting him a glare, I march past him up the trail.
I know I have no right to be upset with him—it’s not like this ridiculous challenge was his idea, after all—but I guess I’m still a little hot about the Caroline Hatchett thing.
If he’d just asked me, I would’ve told him there’s no way in hell Preston and I were hooking up last night.
I hear him coming up behind me on the path, and I feel a little bad about how I’ve been treating him, as though everything that’s happened is his fault.
In reality, I’m much more responsible than I’d like to admit.
I may not have invited Preston here, but if the situation were reversed and Pierce’s girlfriend showed up—well, let’s just say, both of their lives would be pretty fucking miserable right now, and that’s assuming she’d still be alive.
Turning around to offer him an attempt at an apology, I miss the giant tree root sticking out of the ground with the sole purpose of tripping me up. My limbs go sprawling in every direction as I tumble to the ground.
“Shit,” Pierce says. “Are you okay?” He crouches beside me and places a hand on the back of my head.
“Ow,” I moan. Everything hurts.
“Can you move?”
“Just leave me here to die,” I mumble into the ground, which is covered in a layer of leaves in various states of decomposition.
“I’m so glad you’re not going to be dramatic about this,” he says, wrapping both arms around me. “Come on. I’ve got you.”
I have no choice but to stand when he lifts me, although I let out a wail loud enough to scare off any animal who thinks I look like easy prey right now.
“Can you put weight on your leg?” His touch on my knee is gentle, and I glance down to see what he’s looking at.
An angry red scrape streaks up my calf, and a small trickle of blood runs down to my ankle. I quickly look away before I get woozy.
“Maeve?” Pierce looks at me expectantly. “Unfortunately, I don’t have anything to clean up the blood with, but I’ll carry you if you want.”
I shake my head. The last thing I need is to be cradled against Pierce’s chest like some kind of baby. His scent would torment me the whole way back. “I’ll be fine,” I say, standing upright. It hurts, but it’s not intolerable, unlike this bloody mission we’re on.
“I think we should head back and get that taken care of.” He motions to my wound.
“Not until we find the clue.” We’ve come this far, and it has to be close.
I turn in a circle, hoping a hollow tree will magically appear. Then I see it. The exact tree that tripped me has an opening about four feet tall. Inside, on the ground, is a paper airplane. I snatch it up and read aloud.
“‘You’ve come this far together, but the journey’s not yet over. Your final clue can be found near the nectar of the clover. Great job on the teamwork, but it’s time to say goodbye. Race to the finish, give it your best try.’”
“Which one of them wrote these things, do you think?” Pierce says, kicking at the dirt.
“My money’s on Walker.” I shove the paper into the pocket I’m fortunate enough to have on my dress—a dress that was white this morning but is now smudged with all manner of dirt and debris. I squint up at Pierce. “Well, I guess we’re on our own now.” The thought makes my stomach churn with nausea.
He shakes his head, the expression on his face letting me know I’m ridiculous. “I’m not letting you fend for yourself out here.”
“I’ll be fine.” I’m not exactly confident it’s the truth, but I’m pretty sure I’ll at least survive. We can’t be that far from the house.
“Maybe, but I’m not taking any chances.” Pierce extends his hand, palm up. “Come on.”
I look from it to his face, considering my choices. Running ahead of him back up the path isn’t an option, not when my leg is starting to throb with pain. If I accept his help back, I can always ditch him at the last minute and find the final clue on my own.
He wiggles his thumb, wanting me to hurry, and I make up my mind. Ignoring his hand, I push past him and start retracing our steps on the trail. His footsteps make a soft squishing noise as he follows me.
The sun is starting to set, taking its warmth with it.
It must be at least ten degrees colder here under the shade of the tall trees.
I rub my hands over my bare arms and speed up my steps.
The sundress seemed like a good idea when I thought I’d be spending the day playing croquet or watching the guys make fools of themselves shooting clay pigeons.
“Maeve, wait,” Pierce says behind me.
I’m reluctant to slow down now that I’m finally starting to warm up a bit, but I turn back to see what he wants.
He drags his light gray sweater over his head, and the white shirt he’s wearing underneath it rises up just enough to reveal a sliver of his toned stomach.
Mouth watering, I quickly avert my eyes.
Holding the sweater out to me, he says, “Here. Put this on.”
I open my mouth to object, but before I can, he clears the distance between us and tugs it over my head. His scent immediately envelops me. Keeping my eyes locked on him, I don’t say anything as he helps me into the sleeves, then pulls it down and lifts my hair out of the collar.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
His hand lingers in my hair, letting it slide through his fingers. “How’s the leg?”
“Hurts.”
“Want me to kiss it better?” Mischief dances in his eyes.
I remember what he said earlier about saving all his kisses for me. Talk about confusing. I swallow the sudden urge to seal my mouth to his. “I’m good.”
He turns back to the path leading to the house. “We should keep going. It’s getting late.”
This time when he holds out his hand, I slip mine into it and let him lead the way.
When I’m confident he’s facing forward and can’t see me in his peripheral vision, I lift the cuff of his sweater to my nose and drink in his scent.
It’s been muffled out here—nature trying to out-scent him—so getting a direct hit is the exact rejuvenation I need.
I pick up the pace until I’m beside Pierce, his fingers still clutching mine. “Why didn’t you sleep with her? With Caroline?”
His eyes go wide as he turns to look at me. After blinking a few times, he turns his attention back to navigating. He scrambles over a fallen log, then lifts me across it. I do my best to ignore the way his hands feel on my waist, firm and strong and so warm.
I’ve given up on getting an answer from him and am just about to press him again when he speaks. “I didn’t want to.”
“Why not? She’s hot.” It’s a stretch for me, calling a woman hot, but that’s how most straight men would see her—a prized trophy to bang and brag about.
“She is.” He shrugs, leaving his sentence hanging in the air unfinished.
I’m dying to know what else he might say, but I don’t have the nerve to find out. We’ve got a good thing going here. I don’t want to jeopardize that.
Pierce keeps his eyes on the ground, brow furrowed. “Maeve—”
I don’t find out what he’s going to say, because at that moment, I catch my foot on a small root and almost plummet face-first again but for Pierce’s hand keeping me balanced.
Leave it to the woods to make me feel like a fucking giraffe trying to do ballet.
A glance at my leg shows a thicker stream of blood running down my shin than before, dripping into my shoe.
My head spins, and I lift a hand to my forehead to steady myself.
“Please let me carry you.” He stops walking and looks at me.
“I’m okay.”
“I want to.”
When I open my eyes, he’s bending down to scoop me into his arms. I suck in a breath as he picks me up and cradles me against his chest. Letting myself relax, I trace the collar of his shirt. A thrill goes through me when he swallows, making his Adam’s apple bob.