Wicked Luck
Page 27
24. DAY FOUR: THE MESSAGE
Preston
I wake up first as planned and sneak outside without making a sound. Kirk won’t come exploring with me, but he’s definitely not keeping me from doing it. I hurry past the waterfall and don’t stop to walk until I reach the outlet that led me to the cliff by the ocean yesterday.
Daylight is barely peeking through the trees, and the quiet of the morning is peaceful and tranquil. I slow down only when I’m a safe distance from being seen if Kirk wakes up.
I’m heading to the cliffs again, but this time, I plan to go below and explore the beach in the opposite direction. I slip my hands in my pockets and my fingers find the tiny box. There’s something calming about running my fingers back and forth along the velvet.
The squawk of a bird startles me, and I stop to search the trees above me. A bird that can make that kind of noise must be a decent size. The trees tower above me; some so high I can’t see the top. I do a three-sixty to slowly scan the branches, and my eyes fall on a specific tree.
The trunk is wider than the rest of the trees in the forest, but the height doesn’t reach more than fifteen feet. The large leaves sprawl out over a huge, flat rock, overgrown with dense, lush moss. Flowers pop up from behind the rock, making the entire scene look like something out of a fairy tale.
I wade across the stream and step onto the rock. Above me, the branches are like a massive umbrella protecting this sanctuary. For a minute, I wonder if the whole thing is manmade. It is the most beautiful and magical place I’ve ever seen, and I’m suddenly overcome with emotion, wishing Ava were here to see it.
My fingers wrap around the tiny box, and I pull it from my pocket. I lift the lid and take one painful glance at the ring before I close my eyes and imagine her standing in front of me right now, her eyes widening as I drop to one knee. I’d propose just like that, and I couldn’t have found a more perfect place if I’d searched the whole world.
I snap it shut and slip the box back in my pocket. But I will never get that chance, and this place will never be ours. The pain inside my chest is almost unbearable. I will never be able to walk past this spot and not think of her.
A thought pops into my head. Reaching into my other pocket for my Montblanc pen, I jump to my feet. I spend minutes moving around the rock, studying the tree from different angles, until I find the perfect spot. Then, with great care and precision I use the pen to carve a message.
I’m not sure how many minutes or hours go by, but when I’m finally finished, I step back to admire my work. A large heart stares back at me from eye level. In the center, it says:
Preston
Loves
Ava