Chapter 28
Daisy buckled in next to me, her fingers brushing mine on the bench seat as I pulled out of the parking spot. Her smile had faded, showing the cracks beneath it.
So I started talking—anything to keep her afloat after the weight of this morning.
“Beckett used to get grounded more than any kid I knew,” I said, turning left at the light. “One time he tried to impress a girl by riding his mountain bike off the roof of the hardware store.”
She blinked. “Off the roof?”
“Yep. Used a mattress in the dumpster as a landing pad.” I shook my head, grinning. “Missed by about three feet and had a broken wrist and a black eye to show for it.”
She smiled, so I kept going.
“Naturally, Mason saw that and decided he could do it better. Except he picked the grocery store roof—which is twice as high—and Bob came out screaming bloody murder when he spotted him climbing the drainpipe.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes. Emmy and I pretended we didn’t know them while they were getting lectured by the sheriff and their mom in turns.”
Daisy laughed again, but this time it didn’t reach her eyes.
I drummed my fingers on the wheel, then made a decision.
Instead of heading toward home, I swung right down a narrow road that cut behind town and toward the ridge. I reached into the back seat, snagging the stack of blankets I’d tossed in earlier and dropped them onto the bench seat between us.
After a few seconds, she angled toward me. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “That’s vague.”
“Mmhmm.”
The pavement ended, gravel crunching under the tires as we wound up the hillside. Tall pines crowded the road, sunlight dripping between them in gold streaks. The higher we climbed, the thinner the air felt, clean and sharp.
“Huddy,” she said slowly, “are you kidnapping me?”
I smirked. “Relax. I promise you’ll like it.”
She shook her head, but I didn’t miss the way her shoulders loosened a little, just like I hoped they would.
At the last bend, the trees opened up, revealing a flat pull-off overlooking the whole valley. The Gore Range stretched out in jagged blue layers on every side, and down below, Linwood looked small enough to fit in the palm of my hand.
“This,” I said, putting the truck in park, “is Elkhorn Point.”
“Is this where you brought girls to make out?” she asked, one eyebrow arched high.
“Absolutely,” I said without shame. “Some of my best work happened up here.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now, and this one was genuine.
I hopped out, grabbed the blankets, and rounded the truck. “Come on.”
Her door shut behind us as we stepped into the thick quiet of the trees. A narrow path cut between the aspens, worn down by hikers. The air was cooler up here, crisp enough to sting my lungs a little. Daisy kept up though, her hand still in mine.
The sound of distant, rushing water came first, then the trees parted to reveal a pond tucked into the bowl of the mountain. It was still and perfect except for the shimmer of a waterfall feeding into it on the far side.
A rope swing hung from a thick branch overhead, swaying gently above the clear water.
Daisy stopped beside me, eyes widening. “Ty…”
Before she could say anything, I laid out my blankets on the little pebbly beach, then toed off my shoes, and dropped them on the edge of the blanket.
“What are you doing?” she asked, half laughing, half alarmed.
“Dares only, right Daisy?”
With a wink, I pulled my shirt off, then hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my shorts and let them fall, leaving me in nothing but my black boxer briefs. Cool air hit my thighs, tattoos on full display.
Daisy made a small noise—something between a gasp and a laugh—then upped the ante.
She peeled off her top and shorts, letting it pool at her feet. Next went her bra and underwear.
Naked. Gloriously, unapologetically naked.
The cool mountain air pebbled her nipples instantly, goosebumps racing across her skin, but she didn’t flinch. She lifted her chin, eyes locked on mine.
“If we’re doing this,” she said, voice low and daring, “we do it right.”
My mouth went dry. I shoved my boxers down, kicked them aside, and stepped toward her. I cupped her face, kissed her quick and hard, then hurried up the slope to grab the rope.
“Watch this.”
The air was chilly as I swung over the water, but it was nothing compared to what waited for me. I let go, plummeting into the icy depths, the shock stealing my breath. I surfaced with a gasp, treading water, grinning through chattering teeth.
“Your turn, sweetheart!”
My brave, strong Daisy didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the rope the same way I had, ran, and launched—a delighted shriek ripping from her throat as she flew. She hit the water with a splash, disappeared, then shot up sputtering.
“TY HUDSON, THIS IS FREEZING!” she yelled, hair plastered to her face, blue eyes wide with betrayal.
I laughed and swam over to her. “I forgot to mention that only teenagers are stupid enough to swim up here.”
She splashed me. “No fucking shit! I think my nipples just froze off.”
I grabbed her by the arm, pulling her chest to mine. “Well, we can’t have that. I guess I should warm you up, then.”
Her legs wrapped around my waist, arms looping my neck. She was shivering, but her mouth found mine, hot and demanding, and suddenly the cold didn’t matter.
We kissed like it could keep the rest of the world at bay—grief, fear, the weight of tomorrow. Her tongue slid against mine, teeth nipping, hands fisting in my hair. I groaned into her mouth, hands gripping her ass, holding her tight against me.
“Ty,” she gasped, pulling back just enough to breathe. “Shore. Now.”
I didn’t argue. I dragged her through the water, legs still locked around my waist, her slick skin sliding against my chest with every kick.
The cold bit at my shoulders, but her heat—fuck, her heat—kept me grounded.
My feet finally scraped the pebbled bottom, rocks shifting under my weight, and I hauled us both out of the water.
Goosebumps raced across her arms, her thighs, but her eyes burned into mine, fierce and alive.
I carried her the last few steps to the shore, arms tight under her ass, and lowered her onto the blankets.
The wool had soaked up the sun so it was a warm, soft cradle against her back.
She sank into it with a shuddering sigh, hair fanning out in wet gold strands, nipples tight from the chill and want.
I followed her down, covering her body with mine, skin on skin, my chest to her breasts, my thighs bracketing hers.
The contrast was electric—her cool, wet curves against my furnace-hot skin, chasing every last shiver away.
She arched up, nails raking down my back in sharp, stinging lines that made me hiss. Her cold little hand found my hard cock, sliding down over the smooth skin until I could hardly breathe.
“Need you,” she breathed, voice raw, urgent, like the words were torn from her throat.
I didn’t make her wait. I slid into her slow—her heat gripping me like a lifeline, velvet and fire and home.
She moaned, low and broken, legs wrapping around my waist, heels digging into the small of my back, urging me deeper.
Every roll of my hips drew another sound from her, soft gasps that echoed off the water and sank into my bones.
“Faster,” she whispered, hips rising to meet me, desperate.
I gave it to her—hips snapping, the slap of wet skin on skin ringing out sharp and rhythmic, mingling with the rush of the waterfall. The blankets bunched beneath us, wool rough against my knees, but I didn’t care. She was everywhere—her scent, her taste, the clutch of her around me.
But still, I could tell she needed more. With a quick twist, I rolled us so she was on top, water dripping from her hair onto my chest as she straddled me. Her hands braced on my pecs, nails digging in, and she rode me hard and fast—head thrown back, breasts bouncing, thighs flexing.
She moved like she could outrun every shadow chasing her, every ghost whispering in her ear. I let her take what she needed—pleasure, distraction, me.
My hands gripped her hips, fingers bruising, guiding but never stopping.
I slid a thumb between us, finding her clit, circling tight and fast. She shattered—back bowing like a drawn bowstring, a cry tearing from her throat, raw and unrestrained.
Her walls clamped down, pulsing around me, and I followed her over the edge, spilling inside her with a guttural groan, hips jerking up to meet her one last time.
I pulled her down to my chest, arms locking around her, our hearts hammering in sync. We stayed like that—tangled, breathless, slick with water and sweat and us. The sun warmed our skin, drying our bodies, the water lapping gently at the shore.
She pressed her face into my neck, lips brushing my pulse, voice muffled and small. “Don’t let go.”
I tightened my hold, one hand splayed across her back, the other tangled in her hair. “Never,” I said, the word a vow against her skin. “Not ever.”
When she shivered, I reached across and grabbed the other blanket, then threw it over us, pulling it tight around her.
The sun slipped lower, gilding the water in molten copper, and the world around us started to speak again.
The waterfall hissed steady on the far side of the pond, a low white-noise heartbeat.
Wind combed through the needles, shushing them like a lullaby.
My own pulse slowed to match the rhythm of the mountain, Daisy’s weight a warm, steady anchor on my chest.
I thought she’d drifted off. Her breathing had evened out, lashes dark against her cheeks, one hand curled loosely over my heart. I traced idle circles on her shoulder blade, content to stay right here until the stars came out.
“Ty,” she said, voice small and cracked. “Dare me to go pick up her ashes from the funeral home.”
The words hit as hard as the cold water had earlier. I blinked, the lazy haze snapping.
Today.
After four weeks of dancing around it—mailing the death certificate, signing papers, letting the funeral home hold the urn like it was just another package—she wanted to do it now.
I swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “I can’t do that, sweetheart.”
She nodded against my skin, but her fingers tightening on my chest. “I’m scared. If I pick them up… it’s real. I can’t pretend she’s coming back. I can’t keep running.”
Her voice cracked on the last word, and something in my chest splintered. I pressed my lips to her hair, smoothing it from her face. “I’ll go with you. Or I can go alone—pick them up, bring them home, whatever you need.”
“No.” She pushed up so her chin rested on my chest, eyes glassy but steady. “I have to do it. I’m just really fucking terrified.”
I cupped her cheek, thumb brushing a tear she hadn’t let fall. “Then we do it together.”
We dressed in silence, skin prickling in the cooling air.
The walk back to the truck felt longer, every step heavier, the pine needles crunching like brittle bones underfoot.
I tossed the wet blankets in the bed, started the engine, and the cab filled with the low rumble that usually felt like home. Today it sounded like a countdown.
The drive down the ridge was quiet. Linwood unfolded below us, tiny and oblivious to the weight of this moment.
Daisy stared out the window, arms wrapped around herself, knuckles white.
I wanted to reach over, pull her into my lap, absorb every ounce of this hurt, but grief didn’t work that way. This was hers to carry.
The funeral home sat on the edge of town, a low brick building with petunias out front like it could out-pretty the ugly tears that happened here. I parked under a nearby pine and killed the engine. The silence rushed in, thick and suffocating.
I didn’t get out to open her door. Gave her one last out.
She stared out the windshield for a long beat, then drew a shaky breath, popped the handle, and stepped out. She crossed the lot, shoulders squared like she was walking into battle, and I followed a step behind.
Heart in my throat.
Ready to catch whatever pieces fell when the weight finally broke her.