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“What?”
“C’mon,” I said, suddenly unable to look at her. “I’ll drive you back to your car.”
Eleven
KAYLA
The forest was a blur as we raced downhill, the tires of Luke’s truck devouring the road before us. It had been a long time since I’d been to Jamison Lake. It was as exciting as always, seeing the gleam of the water peek its way through the spaces between the trees.
Though it was still early, you could tell it was going to be a gorgeous day. The morning had dawned sunny and bright and unseasonably warm. Luke mentioned it was almost like Elizabeth was smiling down on us on the day of her funeral. Or as he put it, the bitch had elbowed the clouds away and “kicked the rain’s ass.”
I had the window most of the way down, the wind playing with my hair as the radio played something by Tom Petty. I set one foot on the dash and admired my painted toenails. I’d gotten a pedicure the night before I left California.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Breakfast,” Luke replied, his own hair whipping around. He looked suddenly concerned. “You didn’t eat yet, did you?”
“You dragged me out of my hotel bed at six-fifteen,” I laughed. “No, I didn’t eat yet.”
It had been a strange night overall. The ‘reunion’ Adrian and I had was surprising yet not entirely unpredictable, especially considering our physical history. But his abrupt departure from the cafe — and how quickly he sped away after dropping me off — left me wondering if I said anything radically wrong.
Honestly, I didn’t remember him being that sensitive; Adrian had the thickest skin of any of us. Still, there was something distinctly uncomfortable about the way he answered my questions. And my questions hadn’t been all that prying.
“We’re almost at the surface of the lake,” I called out. “There’s not much else down here.”
“That’s right.”
“So where’s the restaurant?” I asked. “You said we were getting breakfast.”
“We are.”
He pulled onto the road that wound around the lake, revealing nothing but solitude and beautiful scenery. It reminded me of the summer we’d spent here. Of the things we’d done. Luke had been there for me, at a time when we were both sort of lost. As a result, this wasourplace. Always would be.
“Here we go.”
He turned the steering abruptly, swinging onto a gravel road. It sent my body sliding along the old truck’s bench seat, until we were side by side, thigh to thigh.
“We never went this way,” I said. “We never—”
Suddenly a clearing opened up, and a small lakehouse sprang into view. It was a cute two-story structure with a slanted roof and cedar shingles. A wrap-around deck, made of some kind of red wood, provided a picture-perfect view of the water.
“You rented acabin?” I said excitedly.
Luke laughed as he brought the truck to stop. “Not exactly.”
I hopped down, and he helped me as he always did. The feel of his hands on my hips was startlingly familiar. It sent tingles through my body.
“Are we—”
“Come inside and see,” he smiled, pulling me along. “Eat first, then questions.”
The interior of the cabin was sparse and minimalist, with just the right amount of space versus decor. There was a fireplace in the back wall. Two comfortable-looking couches facing each other, with a big dhurrie area rug flopped between them.
“What’s that amazing smell?” I asked excitedly.
“Coffee, probably,” he smiled. “Or it could be bacon. Or eggs.”
To one side, a sturdy wooden ladder led to a spacious upper loft. I could see bedding up there. A mattress maybe, or the soft half of a futon. As I stood gawking, Luke jumped behind the counter of the little kitchen, which happened to face the lake. As he slid on an oven mitt, I caught a glance over his shoulder and gasped at the view.
