“You haven’t pushed me away.”
“What did I promise you?” Preston’s eyes are serious when his gaze locks with mine. “Nothing could keep me from you.”
He has a way of calming me. He knows how to make me feel secure. I’m so glad he’s mine.
“And you know what? I’ll always follow you,” I tell him, letting out a dreamy sigh as I rub the back of his hand with my thumb. “That’s my promise. Wherever you go, that’s where I want to go, too. Like you said, it’s just you and me against the world.”
“That’s right, Rosie Doll.”
Satisfied with his answers, I kiss his knuckles and turn the radio back up.
By the time two more songs have played, we’re getting off the highway. Only a few minutes pass before we turn onto a country road with a gravel lane surrounded by dense forest on either side.
Miles go by with nothing else but trees in sight. There are no powerlines. No other cars. No signs of civilization.
Preston did say our new location is secluded, but this is something else.
Finally, we take a fork in the road. After a couple minutes, the trees start to thin out.
Then I see it. It’s a tiny log cabin with a crooked front porch. Old, rustic, and charming. On the side of the house, there’s an overhang with chopped wood piled underneath it. There’s a detached shed with faded red paint peeling from the wooden planks that are barely holding onto the structure.
Preston glances over at me and warns, “There’s no running water or electricity. We’ll be living on the peanut butter sandwiches Casey packed for us and whatever canned food the Marshalls left in the pantry.”
“That’s fine.”
The threat of crappy food does nothing to hinder my good mood. I’m just so excited to be here alone with Preston.
As I step out of the vehicle, I hear nothing but the cold wind. It makes my cheeks and nose go numb, whipping through my hair and ruffling my updo. Turning in a full circle, I see tall trees surrounding us like we’re in our own bubble.
Our world.
Whatever we want.
However we want it.
“It’s magical,” I whisper.
Preston’s smile is relieved as he slides the back door open and hoists up our bags. “Glad you think so. I hope you still feel that way when I’m heating up pots of water for you to wash with.”
“As long as you’re the one washing me,” I tack on not-so-innocently, getting the reaction I’d hoped for.
Preston’s cheeks heat, and I can’t tell if it’s from being turned on or being bashful. There’s something sexy about a man who blushes.
I wonder if I can make him do it again before the day is through.
He wasn’t so shy last night when he was saying all those dirty things to me, and as we trek to the front door, I think about the fact that it’s our wedding night.
I’m going to have sex. With Preston. I’m excited and nervous all at once.
Dropping our luggage on the porch, my new husband goes to one of the lanterns hanging by the door. He detaches the bottom, and inside there’s a key.
He holds it up triumphantly. “They haven’t changed the hiding spot for the spare.”
Once he opens the door, I walk inside. It smells a little musty. There’s a fine layer of dust covering the surfaces, but it’s not cluttered, and the kitchen area is clean. The sink is just a basin with a drain. No faucet. There’s a bed in the corner, covered with a colorful patchwork quilt. Four chairs surround a dining table in the middle of the big room, and there’s a loveseat by the front window.
Cozy.
I walk over to a white plastic curtain next to some cabinets. When I pull it back, I see a makeshift toilet and a clawfoot tub behind it.
Immediately, Preston starts loading the wood burning stove with logs, and soon, the chill in the air is being replaced by heat.
“We have board games and cards in there,” he says, pointing to a closet before pulling two large buckets from underneath the sink.
I go over to check it out.
It’s dark in the small closet, but there’s a flashlight on a hook to my right. After I pick it up and click it on, I point it at the top shelf. I’m just tall enough to reach it. Dust rains around me when I bring a few faded boxes down.
Grinning like I won a prize, I set the stack on the table and look over the games we’ll get to play. Chutes and Ladders. Crazy Eights.
A puzzle.
“Hey, look.” As I lift the box, the 1000 pieces inside clatter as they slide around. “You said you lost your lighthouse puzzle.”
“Yeah.” Preston smiles fondly. “I told Krystal about that, then she told the Marshalls. They got that for me on my sixteenth birthday.”
See? Josiah and Cordelia do love him. He’s just never let himself receive that love.
Right now, I make a promise to myself—someday, when we’re out of this mess, I’ll insist on meeting the Marshalls. And somehow, I’ll get Preston to open his heart up to his family.
That’s what they are. His family. There’s evidence of it everywhere.
In addition to the precious item I’m holding, I see other little touches of Preston around the cabin as I snoop.
A fishing pole with Ethan scrawled on the handle is hanging on the back of the closet door. On the same hook, there’s a blue ballcap. I pick it up. Flipping it over, I look at the bottom of the brim. Edmond was written there at one point, but it’s crossed out and Ethan is next to it.
“Who’s Edmond?” I ask curiously.
Preston glances up from the bucket he’s emptying. A sponge, a bar of soap, and some other cleaning products are spread out on the counter. “That’s the name the state gave me as a baby. I always hated it.”
“Gotcha.” Something I admire about Preston is his refusal to accept circumstances as they are. If he doesn’t like a situation, he takes control and changes it.
I continue my exploration of the cabin.
There are a couple pictures of Preston on a shelf; one is a portrait of him in his military uniform. The other is a younger version of him proudly holding up a big fish. He’s probably sixteen or so, because there’s hardly any gray in his hair.
He was handsome even then.
“There’s a creek not far from here,” Preston tells me when he notices I’m eyeing the picture. “But I’m guessing fishing is out of the question for you.”
“Hard pass,” I confirm with a nod.
He goes outside with the empty buckets. I watch him from the window as he fills them up at a water pump. His muscles ripple with each movement, and I’m reminded of all the times I spied on him from my room.
Only then, it felt like we were separated by an impenetrable wall.
That’s not the case anymore.
Now, he’s mine, and I’m his.
After tossing Preston’s leather jacket to the loveseat, I pull my shirt over my head and let it drop to the floor. Next, the pregnancy suit goes. By the time I’ve gotten down to nothing but my panties, Preston’s lugging the water back inside.
The air coming through the open door is chilly, and when it caresses my bare breasts, it makes my nipples tighten.
As soon as Preston sees me, the full buckets drop from his hands. They hit the floor with a loud thud, and although they don’t tip over, water splashes out, wetting the wooden planks.