CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
As the show ended and as the screen rolled to the credits, Felicia ran out of the treehouse. The door locked automatically behind her, but that was okay—her key was around her neck. She’d never be locked out again.
Liam had made sure of that.
Goddamn him.
It wasn’t until she was halfway down the driveway, stumbling in the dark, that she realized she was headed toward town.
Toward him.
A few nights before, Felicia had mapped the road to town on her phone while lying in her new bed, listening to the redwood creak just feet away from her head. The Golden Spike was only a little more than a mile, twenty, twenty-five minutes on foot.
Her flip flops slapped at the dust, and a rock poked her heel.
Maybe by the time she hit the town’s street lights, she would come to her senses. She knew she wouldn’t make it all the way to the Golden Spike. Adele Darling had invited her to watch the show with the rest of town: You could meet everyone in one fell swoop.
Felicia had been grateful, but had turned her down, preferring to watch the show alone and imagine the town’s reaction in her own mind.
She could imagine it, frame by rapid frame.
Everyone would yell when they saw the Ballard Brothers on screen for the first time.
They’d hoot when Liam and Felicia kissed.
They’d applaud and clap him on the back when she apologized to him in her diary cam.
Then, probably, they’d be pissed when she said on camera that he’d abandoned her, but goddamn it, that was as true as the fact that she was sorry she’d hurt him.
He should have called her back, or emailed her, or at least texted her. Just once.
Instead, he’d ghosted.
And in doing so, he’d broken her already pulverized heart in the process.
Felicia tripped over a fallen branch and turned on her cell phone’s flashlight. She’d walk a little way farther but not all the way to town. She’d just get some of this excess energy out of her legs, her body.
Goddamn him.
A low rumble of a motor got louder. Closer.
#
A motorcycle? Was that what that light was? Liam squinted to get a better view of the bright light shining at him.
It didn’t act the way a motorcycle’s headlight in the distance would. It was more bouncy, the light thinner.
Maybe a bicycle? But who the hell was riding a bike out here in the dark?
He couldn’t figure out how far away the light was until suddenly he was almost on top of it.
On top of her. Felicia’s face gleamed bright in his headlights.
He hit the brakes so hard the whole truck skidded.
Jesus.
He’d almost hit her. He fumbled for the door handle, unsure if his heart was going to start beating again on its own or if he’d have to fall down in front of her and hope she pitied him enough to perform CPR.
“What the hell are you doing?” Her voice was high, on the edge of a scream.
“What are you doing?” His hands tingled so hard they hurt.
“You almost hit me!”
“I almost hit you!”
Felicia stood in the headlight’s glare, dust from the road rising up around both of them. She was glaring at him so hard she might be able to burn holes through him. Except for the clicking of the engine as it cooled, the road was silent.
“Who wears black to go on a nighttime hike?” Liam’s voice was a roar, and that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t her fault. He’d been going too fast. But he was angry, goddammit, for reasons he didn’t dare name. Not yet.
“Someone who didn’t plan on leaving the house! And who the hell drives that fast down country roads and doesn’t slow down when he sees a light?”
Liam stuck his hand in his pockets, willing his heart to stop racing. “We could play this game all night, or you could tell me where you were headed.”
“For a walk.”
“In the dark.”
“I had a light.” She held up her cell phone like she might chuck it at him.
“Wearing flip flops.”
She looked down at her feet. “Well…”
“You watched the show.”
She scowled harder at him. “So?”
“So you were coming to find me.”
“So?”
Liam wanted to bellow, to laugh, to cry, to run, but all he did was stand in place on the dusty road. It took every ounce of his courage he’d ever possessed to say, “So I was coming to find you, too.”
Felicia clutched the key at her neck. Her eyes were wide, and only now did he notice they were full of tears. “You’re late.”
#
He was so late. If she weren’t wearing sandals, she’d kick something—his tires, his shins, maybe. “I did everything except take out a singing telegram to apologize to you.”
“I know.” Liam’s arms hung loosely at his sides.
“And you ignored me.”
“I know.”
Dust still rose, but slower now. Liam was silhouetted in the truck’s headlights, and she couldn’t see his face clearly. “You did exactly what you hate other people to do—you left. Except it was worse. I saw you in town twice.”
“Wait, what? I didn’t see you.”
“Well, I hid.”
His voice was low. “You what?”
Felicia bit her bottom lip so hard she tasted blood. Then she admitted, “I ran behind the post office once, and the other time I dove into the storeroom at the Golden Spike.” Both times, she’d wanted to do the opposite—to run to him. But both times, she chickened out. The only time she’d found the nerve to go to his house, Timbo had looked at her with something like pity in his eyes. He’s not here. You want me to give him a message?
She’d sent her own messages enough times to know he wasn’t interested in returning them.
His hands turned, opening toward her, then pulling back. “Felicia—”
“You should have answered.”
“I know.”
Why did he keep saying that? She crossed her arms. “Why didn’t you, then?”
“Licking my wounds, I guess.”
“Why now?” But she knew. He’d seen the show. “You want to tell me I’m wrong. You want to tell me you didn’t abandon anyone, ever, and that I shouldn’t have said that, and that you’re pissed off, and buddy, I hear you. I’m pissed off, too—”
Liam stepped forward. “I’m going to kiss you.”
Felicia threw her head back and groaned. “What is wrong with you?”
“I’m just warning you. I don’t want you to run away when I do it.” He took another step. He was only an arm’s length away now. “You’ve already admitted you run away from me sometimes.”
Her heart raced and her fingers trembled. “I admitted on national television I was in love with you. Yes, I would like to run away to Antigua. Alone. As soon as possible. The last thing I want is you kissing me.” It was the biggest lie she’d ever told.
“Before I kiss you, though, I’m going to apologize. I’m so sorry. You’re right. I was in the wrong.”
Felicia dug her fingernails into her arm. “What?”
“Oh, and the most important part. I love you, too.”
Felicia sat.
Right in the dirt.
Her legs just wouldn’t hold her up and she didn’t have that much faith in her spine either, come to that.
Liam was still backlit so she stared at his knees. “Run that by me one more time?”
He crouched in front of her. “I’m completely, totally in love with you.”
Felicia’s face felt hot, but her chest felt cold. “I don’t know—what do we do about that?”
“I kiss the hell out of you.”
She wanted that—god, she wanted that. But— “What about after that, though?”
“I have no idea.”
Dust rose in her nose, and she rubbed it. “Me neither.”
“Are you
staying? In Darling Bay?”
“I have a house here, you might have heard.”
Liam shook his head. “I have one of those, too. But it doesn’t feel like home anymore, honestly.”
She could barely breathe around the lump in her throat. “Why not?”
“Because you’re not there.”
“Home,” she whispered.
Liam reached forward and touched the key at her neck. “Is here.”
He kissed her, hard and long, his hands tangling in her hair. He murmured words she couldn’t understand, words she’d have time to figure out later. All the time in the world.
And Felicia kissed him back, hearing, as she did, the sound of her latchkey heart opening. For good.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
EPILOGUE
What he’d built for her was silly, Liam knew it.
But silliness didn’t seem to bother Felicia.
“Close your eyes.”
Felicia laughed. “You’ve said that like five times, and I have a blindfold on. If I close them any harder, I’ll be looking out my ears.”
He led her forward, past the bed. “Don’t trip on the rug.”
“I love this rug.” Felicia’s bare feet moved slowly over it. “I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that.”
Liam smiled. “You might have. Once or twice.” Felicia had made the rug herself. She’d taken a class in town with Talia Moorhead, and had braided it together out of an antique quilt top too shredded to be repaired. She’d spent about a week marveling at its beauty and even now only let him stand on it if he was barefoot.
“Okay. Up the ladder.”
“Up to the treehouse blindfolded? Is this some kinky new thing?”
“It wasn’t going to be, but I can rectify that if you want me to.”
She grinned and put her hands on the middle rungs, lifting her foot to the bottom one. “What if I fall?”
“I’ll catch you.”
Her smile softened. “You always do.”
Liam got more anxious. He was building this up too much. She might hate it. What if he’d overstepped?
“Up! Going up!” she announced.
Liam followed the excellent view of Felicia’s jeans-clad ass, just steps behind her. “When you reach the platform—yeah, you’re almost there, swing yourself sideways, and sit with your feet hanging off.”
She laughed, the sound of it happy and bright. “I really hope I don’t fall.”
If she actually did—and he prayed she wouldn’t—he’d learn how to fly in time to catch her. He didn’t know how, but he would do it.
“I love you,” he said, sliding onto the platform next to her. He didn’t get tired of saying it. Six months in, and the words meant more every damn time.
“I love you, too.” Her hand went out, open, waiting for him to take it. She trusted him.
And god, the feeling of that was like sunlight after rain. He took her hand.
“Now what?” Her legs swung gently.
“Now you take off your blindfold.”
“Aw. I was just kind of getting used to it.” But she pulled it off and looked at him.
She looked at him. She didn’t look around to see what he’d done—her eyes went first to Liam.
He kissed her.
She kissed him back.
Life was pretty goddammed perfect, and she hadn’t even seen what he’d done up here yet.
Felicia pulled away. “Okay. Now I look.”
She swiveled her head.
Then she gasped. She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh. Liam.”
It was a simple build. A bench, fixed to the platform itself, facing the view of the valley and the far-off rise that led to the ocean. Above it hung an umbrella-like awning, affixed to the tree itself.
“It opens and closes, in case you just want to look straight up. Now you can sit and read up here. In the sun or the rain.”
“Liam.”
“Do you like it?”
Silently, she nodded. She stood and sat on the bench, touching the top gingerly with her fingertips. “It’s just big enough for two.”
“Exactly big enough.”
“It’s…so perfect.” Felicia ran her hands along the top of the bench, along the side bevel.
Liam shook his head. “It’s crooked. There might be splinters even though I did my best to get rid of them.”
Her eyes warmed him. “You didn’t get Aidan or Jake to help you.”
“Uh-uh.”
“Timbo?”
“He might have helped a little bit. But I swear I’m better than he is with a hammer. Mostly.”
The breeze shook the last gift, the one that hung from a simple hook, and Felicia laughed in what sounded like joy. “A wind chime! And is it…it’s made of keys.”
She touched them and they clunked companionably.
Liam felt like apologizing for them. “It’s not the expensive, beautiful kind of wind chime. Not in tune or anything. Kind of tone-deaf, actually.”
“It’s perfect. Where are the keys from?”
It was the right question, and one he’d known she’d ask. “From a box at the antique shop. I picked through each key until I found the really worn ones. Look, they’ve all been handled thousands of times by people who loved their homes.”
She kissed him hard, and then she said, “Move in.”
Liam jumped, his heart in freefall. “What?”
“What if you and Timbo moved in? With me?”
“You mean live in sin?”
She clapped. “I love sin.”
Liam let a breath fill his body. In. Out. Then, “Well, ma’am, what if it wasn’t in sin?”
“I’m confused. Are we going to church now or something?”
He reached in his pocket. This wasn’t the way he’d planned, not exactly. He’d thought he’d show her what he’d done to the treehouse, and next week, on her birthday, he’d ask her to marry him. But the ring was in his pocket, and the sunlight coming through the leaves was dappling her face with gold, and he couldn’t take it anymore.
He held it out. “Another key.”
“What?”
Liam pointed out how it was bent and formed, an old skeleton key that had been shaped into a ring. “See? It’s an actual key.”
Felicia was pale. “Is this—What does this key open?”
“Me. It opens me. You do that. Damn it, that makes me sound like a beer bottle. I meant to—” Liam slid off the bench and onto one knee. “I had big plans. Skywriting or something. Dancing in the moonlight. I wasn’t sure yet. But I can’t wait, not one second longer. Felicia Turbinado, will you marry me?” His heart clunked harder than the keys in the breeze.
Felicia stayed silent. Her eyes were bigger than he’d ever see them. He could almost see himself reflected there, in the darkness of her corneas.
A sudden wind shook the boughs above, and a flurry of redwood needles skittered across the wooden platform. “Felicia? Darlin’?”
Felicia shook her head. “Yes! Of course, yes!”
Relief was thick as honey in his mouth as he kissed her. And it sweetened like molten sugar as she kissed him back, the heat getting higher, faster.
“Up here?” she grinned, tugging up his T-shirt. “To celebrate.”
“No one around to see us but the squirrels.”
“And this bench.” Felicia raised an eyebrow. “We should probably see how strong it is.”
“You really said yes? To me? You understood the question and all?”
“I did,” Felicia said against his lips. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
He felt himself grow harder. “Why did you hesitate?”
“Oh.” Her cheeks flamed.
“What?”
“I was just…I was just feeling it. It felt so good, to hear you ask, that I thought I’d just think about it for a minute.”
“Feels pretty good.”
She laughed, and her eyes sparkled. Then she slid her hand inside the fly of his jean
s. “I have to agree.”
And there, at the top of the tree, Liam and Felicia made love with no one to hear the clunking of the wind chime and their cries of joy except two curious squirrels and one surprised passing hawk. The hawk examined the situation closely in two long drive-by swoops, and then flew higher up and away, searching for his own mate to settle with onto the limb of a great and sheltering tree. To settle into home.
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About Rachael Herron
Rachael Herron is the bestselling author of the novels The Ones Who Matter Most, Splinters of Light and Pack Up the Moon (all from Penguin), the five-book Cypress Hollow series, and the memoir, A Life in Stitches. She received her MFA in writing from Mills College, Oakland. She teaches writing extension workshops at both UC Berkeley and Stanford and is a New Zealand citizen as well as an American. You can find her at RachaelHerron.com.
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KEEP READING FOR A SNEAK PEEK OF THE NEXT BOOK!
Don’t miss a minute in Darling Bay! One unforgettable town, three standalone series (read them in any order!). So many ways to fall in love!
THE FIREFIGHTERS OF DARLING BAY:
Playing with fire has never been this fun…
Blaze: Tox and Grace - Book 1
Burn: Coin and Lexie - Book 2
Flame: Hank and Samantha - Book 3
Heat: Caz and Bonnie - Book 4
On the Market (The Ballard Brothers of Darling Bay Book 1) Page 18