Chapter 192
I didn’t know what to expect when Jake knocked on my door just after noon, holding a blanket under one arm and a brown paper bag in the other. He didn’t say much—just flashed me a boyish grin and told me to “come on.”
I followed him, heart fluttering, wondering if this was real or another one of those dreams I kept having. The kind where he reached for me and never let go.
We walked in comfortable silence, our footsteps crunching over fallen leaves and twigs as we made our way through the woods behind the estate. Sunlight dappled through the branches above us, casting golden patterns on the path. Jake didn’t speak much, but his fingers brushed mine once, and the quiet hum that settled between us said more than words ever could.
When we reached the river, my breath caught.
It was beautiful.
The water sparkled under the afternoon sun, and the gentle current whispered secrets as it rushed over smooth stones. A willow tree stretched its branches toward the water like it wanted to dip its fingers in. Birds chirped somewhere overhead, and the breeze carried the sweet scent of wildflowers and moss.
Jake spread out the blanket on a small grassy patch right beside the river, perfectly tucked away from view.
“Not bad, huh?” he said, glancing at me as he dropped the paper bag down.
“Not bad?” I laughed softly, easing down onto the blanket. “It’s perfect.”
He sat beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his body but not so close that it overwhelmed. He reached into the bag and started pulling out things—two sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, a container of strawberries, some chocolate, and two bottles of lemonade.
“Did you make this?” I asked, watching him.
His ears turned slightly pink. “Maybe.”
I raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Jake, are you secretly domestic?”
He chuckled, passing me a sandwich. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”
I smiled as I unwrapped the sandwich, the scent of fresh herbs and roast chicken drifting up. “Too late. This smells suspiciously like effort.”
We ate slowly, our knees brushing now and then, and I was surprised by how natural it all felt. No pressure, no confusion—just us and the water and the way he kept glancing at me when he thought I wasn’t looking.
Halfway through lunch, I leaned back on my elbows and tilted my face toward the sun. “You come here a lot?”
Jake nodded, biting into his sandwich. “Yeah. It’s quiet. I like it when things are quiet.”
“That’s surprising,” I said, watching the way the sunlight caught in his hair. “You don’t seem like the ‘quiet’ type.”
He glanced at me sideways, his expression softening. “Most people don’t see that part.”
I shifted, facing him. “Then show me.”
His brows lifted slightly, as if he didn’t expect that.
“I want to know,” I added, voice quiet.
Jake looked down at his hands for a moment before exhaling slowly. “Okay. Um… I used to come here with my mom when I was a kid. Before things got complicated. She loved the sound of the river. Said it helped her think.”
My chest tightened. “What happened to her?”
He was quiet for a beat. “She got sick. I was thirteen.”
I didn’t say anything—I just reached over and laid my hand on his. He didn’t pull away.
“After she passed,” he continued, his voice low, “my dad changed. Everything changed. I started coming here alone. It made me feel like she was still around.”
I squeezed his hand gently. “She’d be proud of you.”
His eyes met mine, and something unspoken passed between us. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
For a long moment, neither of us moved. Then Jake cleared his throat, brushing his thumb over my knuckles. “Your turn.”
I blinked. “My turn?”
“Tell me something about you,” he said. “Something real. No hiding.”
I hesitated. “Okay... I used to dance.”
That caught him off guard. “Really?”
I nodded, a little embarrassed. “Yeah. Ballet, mostly. I loved it. It was the one place I felt completely free. But after my mom left and things got complicated with my stepfamily, I stopped. Didn’t really have the time or space.”
Jake studied me for a second, like he was seeing me in a new light. “I can imagine it. You dancing.”
I laughed. “What, all graceful and twirling around?”
He shook his head. “No. More like… fierce. Determined.”
My heart did a little flip. “You’re not very good at compliments, you know that?”
“I’m trying,” he said, and smiled.
There was a beat of silence before he leaned back beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. We watched the river flow, the current pulling leaves along like lazy dancers.
“Do you ever miss it?” he asked after a while.
“All the time,” I admitted. “Sometimes I dance when no one’s watching. Just to feel that spark again.”
Jake tilted his head, giving me a sideways look. “Dance now.”
I stared at him. “What?”
“Dance,” he repeated, sitting up. “Here. With me.”
I laughed, half in disbelief. “Jake, there’s no music.”
He stood anyway and held out his hand. “We don’t need it.”
For a moment, I just stared at his outstretched hand. Then, with my heart pounding and a grin tugging at my lips, I took it.
He pulled me to my feet, and we stood under the dappled sunlight, surrounded by trees and the sound of rushing water. He placed one hand gently on my waist and held my other hand in his.
We moved slowly, awkward at first, both unsure of what we were doing. But then he whispered, “Just follow me,” and somehow, it worked. We swayed to the rhythm of the river, of our own beating hearts. He twirled me once—badly—and I stumbled into his chest, laughing.
His hands steadied me, and when I looked up at him, our laughter faded into something softer.
“I like this side of you,” I murmured.
“What side?”
“This one,” I said, placing a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under my palm. “The real one.”
He bent his head, so close his breath brushed my lips. “You bring it out in me.”
And then he kissed me.
Not like the kiss in the lake—urgent and hungry—but slow, tender, like he wanted to memorize the shape of my lips, the way I tasted, the way I sighed into him. My hands curled into his shirt, and the world narrowed to just the two of us.
When we pulled apart, I rested my forehead against his. “This is dangerous, you know.”
“I know,” he said, eyes closed. “But I don’t care.”
We sat back down on the blanket, closer this time, our hands intertwined. He fed me a strawberry and laughed when juice dripped down my chin, wiping it gently with his thumb.
“You’ve got a soft side, too,” I teased.
He shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “Don’t spread it around.”
I rested my head on his shoulder and sighed. “Too late.”
The sun dipped lower, casting golden light across the water, and we stayed like that—wrapped in each other and the moment. For once, there were no shadows. No past. No uncertain future.
Just Jake and me.
And a perfect afternoon by the river.
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