Page 19 of Roped


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Oakley has been silent as we drive back toward Sequoia. I can feel her overthinking things, knowing she’s nervous about us. She goes back and forth between fiddling with the hem of her dress and staring out the window with her arms crossed over her waist, like she’s trying to protect herself from whatever happens next.

I hate seeing her like this. Especially after knowing how passionate, confident, and breathtaking she can be when she lets go and trusts me with her entire being. Goddamn, I’ll never forget our first time. Our second time, either. She surrendered to me, gave me complete control over her pleasure…

But even I know relationships are built on more than sex. It’s so much more with Oakley, and she has to feel it, too. It’s everything. Her soul fits in mine, and I vow to protect it from every damn thing.

I’ve told her over and over last night and this morning that we’re forever, but I know she doesn’t quite trust me yet. I understand, knowing she grew up with cold, unkind parents who didn’t know how to love her. It will take time to heal those wounds, but I pray she lets me in, lets me see that pain she carries, and lets me take it from her.

Oakley is mine, and that’s all there is to it. I choose her over everyone and everything. Still, that doesn’t make things any less complicated. How are we going to tell Clara about all this? The last thing I want is to hurt my little sister, or worse, for Oakley to lose her closest and oldest friend.

My girl hasn’t had it easy, and I know she values her relationship with Clara. It would kill me to take that away from her.

Looking over at Oakley now, I see she’s back to messing with her dress. Her black hair covers her face like a curtain, blocking my view. I reach out, covering both of her hands with my larger one. She tenses at my touch, and I smooth my thumb over her knuckles until she calms down.

Oakley tilts her head up, gathering her hair and tossing it over her shoulder. Finally, I get a good look at my girl. I can see the anxiety mounting in her eyes, her fear a palpable thing.

I want to tell Oakley that everything will be okay and this is going to work out. Truthfully, however, I don’t know if I can promise her that. I never want to lie to her or have her not trust me, and I don’t know that things are going to be alright once we tell Clara.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask softly. She seems so skittish right now, like she might actually jump out of the car and go hide in the woods.

“Just… everything. Can we go back to the little island and build a hut there and live out the rest of our days in paradise?”

I chuckle, squeezing her hands. “As tempting as that sounds, I have a feeling we’d get pretty hungry after a day or so.”

“I’ll collect berries and herbs, and you can hunt wild boars.”

I grin at her. At least she’s talking to me.

“I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think there are any boars on that tiny island.”

“Fine, we’ll make rabbit stew and roast lizards over an open fire.”

“Have you ever had lizard before?”

“No, have you?”

I nod, giving her a grin before turning my attention back to the road. “Yup. One night my brothers and I were around the fire pit out back, and we had a few beers. I’m not sure who started the game of truth or dare, but the night ended with Wyatt shaving his eyebrows off, Griz drinking from the horse trough, and me eating a flame-skewered lizard.”

Oakley scrunches up her nose, making me chuckle. I swear I can hear her thoughts, so I address them before she can get a word out.

“The little guy was on his last leg. Literally. A coyote must have messed him up and left him to die.”

“So it was a mercy kill.”

“Something like that. Plus, a gross dare that Remy thought up.”

“Remy? Really? He’s always so serious and reserved. I can’t imagine him joining in on your shenanigans.”

“Shenanigans, huh?” I tease, looking over at her once more. I can’t get enough of her beauty, but I manage to pull my eyes away and focus on driving again.

We both laugh, but as it fades, the mood slips back to what will happen when we get home.

“I’ll tell Clara,” I promise her.

I can give her that much, at least.

She nods, looking out the passenger window as the last of Los Angeles passes by.

“How do you think she’ll take it?” Oakley asks quietly. I move my hand from hers, returning it to the wheel as I take the next exit into town.

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