Dane calls me before I can call him, informing me that I’m off the hook. Well, that I won’t be taking him to dinner, at least. Before I can react to the news, he instructs me to dress comfortably and wear close-toed shoes because he’s taking me somewhere. He doesn’t give me time to protest or to guess where we’re going, and I silently pray it’s not take-a-girl-to-work day. I think my nerves took on more than they could handle with my first trip to Cross Automotive.

I hear a knock on the door and squeak over to it in my sneakers, trying to ignore the flock of butterflies in my stomach. When I pull it open, I find him scowling at the floorboards of my porch deck. Not this again.

“I misplaced my handyman,” I crack, shutting the door behind me and locking it.

“No kidding. I’ll be surprised if this thing doesn’t collapse before the year is over.” He tests some of the wooden slats with his weight, frowning. He’s so concerned with the house that he hasn’t really noticed me yet.

“Oh, I think it’ll be fine.” I hardly get the words out before an ominous crack sounds from the old wood.

“Yep, all good here,” he jokes. “Are you ready?” When his eyes scan over me, the tension in his brow eases, and he smiles. It has a strange twirly effect on my insides. With dinner, I would know what to expect. Only a finite number of things can go wrong in the space between drinks and dessert. Now, well, I have no idea where we’re even going. I had to dress the best I could with what limited information I was given—in leggings, a tank top, and a fleece jacket.

“I hope so.”

“I think you’ll manage just fine.” He winks cheekily.

Soon we’re headed west on the highway. We don’t talk much, but the atmosphere is comfortable. I find myself relaxing beneath the warmth of the sunshine on my arms, and overhead, stretches of blue sky are broken up by only a few tufts of cotton-candy clouds.

We drive for almost an hour before the truck slows and Dane turns off onto a narrower, heavily-wooded road. We’re surrounded by untamed wilderness and who knows what else. Trees tower over our path, and I follow their trunks skyward, my forehead knocking against the glass that’s impeding my view. Dane parks in a crescent-shaped clearing off to the side of the road, surrounded by more green foliage and stoic pines. There are a few other cars parked in the rugged lot, but other than that we are alone.

Stretching my legs when I climb out, I look around for a hint as to what we’re doing. There’s nothing in the way of camping materials from what I can see of the truck bed, but there is a locked toolbox. I hope they’re not in there. God, what if we’re camping? A night alone with Dane and nothing else? It’s an intimidating thought.

There’s a sign up ahead that I’m not close enough to read, but I’ve attended enough summer camps to conclude this is the start of a trail.

Hiking. Wilderness. Not something I mess around with too often.

Dane pulls a backpack from the backseat and beckons me over, and my suspicion rises.

“What’s that for?”

“I need you to carry this,” he says in lieu of explanation.

“Is it equipment?”

“Sure. It wouldn’t all fit into one backpack, and it would be awkward for me to carry two.”

I’m not convinced that we need two backpacks full of stuff if we’re just going for a little walk. I reach for the zipper, but he bats my hand away.

“No peeking.”

“But you need my help carrying it,” I say.

“Only because I know you’re strong enough to handle it.” I stare, and he stares back, and when I finally give in and turn around, he helps me into the straps, adjusting them to where I’m comfortable. “Good?” he asks, leveling his gaze with mine.

I bend my knees a few times to test out the weight, before finally answering, “Yep.”

Dane shrugs into his own backpack, then he locks up the truck and we take off down the trail. It’s worn and pitted, but relatively tame. Although we’re surrounded by foliage, there’s an openness to being enclosed by so much green. The trees don’t crowd in close here, and the air is clean and untainted. Birds wheel and call to each other overhead, and critters skitter through the brush around us. I focus more on where I’m placing my feet instead of anything else, stepping carefully over roots and rocks in our path, dappled by sunlight. I attended a yoga class weekly in Nashville, but that was about the extent of my physical exertions.

While hiking isn’t something I ever expected to enjoy, it takes no more than five minutes for me to settle into a rhythm, my eyes finally roaming over the path ahead. We are alone but for the sounds and smells of nature. 

“You could’ve warned me about this, you know,” I say as we reach an incline.

“Then you wouldn’t have come.”

I bristle. “You don’t know that.”

“I know enough to know you would not have done this.” He gives me a look that dares me to challenge him. I don’t.

We approach a stream, or maybe the narrow part of a river, shallow enough to where you can see the brown glint of rock beneath the surface, and the water rises and dips as it crests over stones and swirls into depressions. Wordlessly, Dane begins removing his shoes and socks and steps into the stream before I can think to argue. I realize he’s waiting for me when he pauses just off the bank, and I swipe off my own shoes, holding them tightly when I take the first step in. The water is so cold a gasp hisses between my teeth. I take the first few steps slowly, mindful of the slick rock bottom, then settle into a kind of precarious groove.

“I used to do this kind of stuff, you know,” I finally say when I’m less offended. Dane helps me up the opposite bank, and we perch on a rock to put our shoes back on. I don’t know why it’s important for me to tell him, but I do.

“Oh yeah?” he says. He’s one of the few men I’ve met who doesn’t feel the need to fill silent spaces with nonsensical ramblings. I don’t think he even does it on purpose.

“Yes. I wasn’t always this . . . frosty. Rigid. I was more impulsive when I was younger. Reckless. It’s not something I’m proud of.”

“Are you proud of who you are now?”

That gives me pause. It’s not what I expected he’d ask. “I’m glad I’m more responsible.”

“I think you just appreciate control.”

I’ve got to hand it to him, he is tactful. He succeeds in calling me controlling, without actually saying those words. “That’s part of it, I guess. Almost everything is easier when you can manipulate your environment to be how you want it.”

“Let me ask you this: when you’re dancing, do you let anyone else lead?”

My forehead creases in confusion. “I can’t remember the last time I danced.”

Dane grimaces. “It’s worse than I thought, you won’t even dance.” When I shoot him a scathing look, he holds up his hands in surrender and passes me up to lead the way. “You can’t always force things to be. Sometimes they just . . . are.” It’s like he’s confusing us both; his scowl matches mine. “My point is, life should be spontaneous, don’t you think? Or else when would you have any fun?”

“I have fun!” I exclaim, then I deadpan. He’s poking fun at me. “I’m just more careful. There’s less hurt that way.”

“Sure. But also less feeling.”

I don’t respond to that. In the past year, I’ve felt so much it’s like I’ve come crawling out on the other side of a storm, a refugee amongst devastation. There are things you don’t have to experience twice, and feeling all that is one of them.

“How about something lighter—what do you do for a living?”

“Spend way too much time in people’s mouths,” I tease.

“Oh yeah? Dentist?”

“Too much school for me. I’m a hygienist.”

“So you’ve been critiquing my teeth since the moment you met me,” he says, glancing over his shoulder as if to check on me.

“Wrong again. I see too much of them every day. It’s a relief when I don’t have to stare at plaque anymore.”

“I bet. Personally, I think that would be pretty gross.” He shakes his shoulders like he’s just gotten the chills. “Where were you from originally? Before Nashville?”

“Evansville, Indiana.”

“Quite-a-ways from home, then,” he says.

“I haven’t called it home since I was in high school.”

“All right. Any siblings?”

“One. An annoying older sister named Serena. I would ask about yours, but I’ve already had the pleasure of meeting him.”

“And what a pleasure he is.” When we reach a fork in the path and Dane examines the trail to the right, I see half of the bitter smirk on his face.

“Were you guys close growing up?” I ask. If he’s going to by nosy, it’s only fair to return the favor.

“We probably haven’t been close for fifteen years.”

I could’ve guessed that based on what little time I’ve spent interacting with them. Trey’s demeaning undertone told me enough.

“Same. Mostly. Like I said, I haven’t always been boring, and Serena and I were the opposite of each other in every way. You’d think that would be a good thing when it came to clothes and boys and friends, but really, she just resented me for it. Like I was trying to do it on purpose to stand out or something. She’s still bitter about it.”

“Does she live close by?”

“She’s an army wife in North Carolina, so no.”

The terrain has become more uneven, with rises and drops in elevation, more rocks to travel around or over, and some switchbacks to navigate. Dane holds up a finger and departs from the trail, rooting around for something while I stop and rest. I let my head fall back and look up at what patches of sky I can see through the leaves above. I’m not sure when the last time was that I went somewhere without an agenda. My mind is blissfully blank.

When Dane returns, he offers me a stick that’s almost my height. I take it, and he sets off, using his own as a walking stick.

“Do you miss it? Nashville?”

I’m on the verge of saying no when I realize the answer is more complicated. “I miss the activity, and the potential. It’s like the whole town was buzzing with it. But, looking back, it didn’t ever feel like it was mine.”

He gives me a sidelong glance. “So you’re from Indiana, and your sister lives in another state. What made you come out here by yourself?”

He knows where to push and where to retreat, and I don’t yet know whether that should concern me. If that’s just part of the charm the Town Moms tried to warn me about, or if it’s just how he is.

“That’s exactly why I came out here. The seclusion,” I say with a sigh.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “And yet you’re here with me.”

“Yes, well, I was kind of tricked into it.”

“Do you regret agreeing to our date, yet?”

“I haven’t decided,” I tease him, although our walk has been way too beautiful to regret. He just chuckles, and we continue.

“What are you hoping to find out here, Raven?”

It’s suddenly grown very hot out here, despite the absence of humidity and the shade offered by the trees. I pause on the trail and slip out of my jacket, tying it around my waist. I’m fully aware of why I’m here, but making sense of it to someone else is another matter.

“I needed to do something for myself,” I finally answer. “A big portion of the past ten years has been spent focusing on others and how their actions made me feel. For once, I wanted to take everyone else out of the equation and see what I would find. You know—jump to see if I could fly kind of thing.” The landscape has become trickier and is demanding more of my attention. We’re now stepping up rock shelves that form natural staircases, picking our way down steeper declines, and tiptoeing carefully as the trail narrows and the ground falls more precipitously away on one side of the path. But the words are flowing, and I don’t regret them as soon as they leave my mouth.

“And Heronwood is doing that for you?”

“I don’t know. I thought I needed to be alone—do things on my own—to find myself. But I don’t think I’m any closer than I was when I left Nashville.”

“Maybe we find ourselves when we least expect it. When we’re not really looking.” Dane places his foot into the cleft of a rocky ledge to boost himself up on top of it, and after he pulls himself up, he extends his hand to me without a second thought. I toss my walking stick up onto the rock before mimicking his actions, placing my toe in the tiny indention, but I hardly need the leverage as he pulls me to him as effortlessly as if he were lifting his bucket of tools. We’re inches away from each other, so close that our labored breaths mix in the space between us. But he doesn’t take advantage of our proximity, nor the fact that my back is to an immediate drop-off and I couldn’t evade him if I tried. He just gives me the tiniest of smiles; enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes. Then we continue onward like he didn’t just enlighten me with his philosophical statement or literally sweep me off my feet

“I guess that just hasn’t worked for me in the past. Or maybe I’m too impatient.” I stab at the ground with my stick, taking extra care not to trip or twist an ankle on the uneven terrain.

“Don’t give up just yet. I heard the path to self-discovery can be slow going.” There’s a tinge of humor in his voice, but I feel the weight of his words. They’re personal. A tiny window of insight into this open yet mysterious man. “Is there a someone back in Nashville waiting for you to come back to him?”

My spine stiffens in response. It’s become instinctual to avoid talk of Jenson and the inadequacy I felt in our final days. But Dane isn’t totally clueless. I vividly remember the moment on the street when he called me by my married name. It had the effect of a hook, sinking into my flesh and jerking me forward a pace. He knows things, but I don’t know how much.

“You know more than you let on, Dane, why don’t you tell me?”

My tone makes him pause in place, and I stop in my tracks so I won’t run into him. “True, I’ve heard some things about you. Not because I was asking around, but because nobody in this town knows how to shut the hell up. But I don’t want to talk about the Raven the women in this town have scraped together from their magazine articles. I think you know well enough how things can get lost in translation.” His eyes narrow, punctuating that last part. Droplets of sweat make trails down the sides of his bronze temples. He would look more intimidating if I wasn’t currently overcome with shame for doing the one thing he was the bigger person to avoid—making judgments about me before formulating an opinion for himself.  

“Well, to their credit, the King part is true at least,” I finally admit. Out of the vault of painful things I’ve experienced, being married to a talented musician might have been the mildest. There are other, heavier things that rest on top of that fact, compressing it into no more than a tidbit of information that has been used to define the woman I am.

Dane still doesn’t seem satisfied. I would try to veer around him to lead our little journey myself, but firstly, I don’t know where I’m going, and secondly, he’s pegging me with a look that’s rendered my limbs useless. It’s not so much a glare as a plea, a question of whether I trust him with the details of my old life.

“I was married,” I state, planting my hands on my hips so I at least maintain the appearance of strength as I give in. “To Jenson King, as I’m sure you’ve heard. If you don’t know who he is, maybe you don’t like country music, which is fine, but he’s a relatively well-known singer and songwriter. Even though I avoided as much attention as I could while we were together, it was impossible to stay out of the spotlight entirely. When I came here, I didn’t want that to follow me. I want to grow into the woman I’m meant to be without anyone looking over my shoulder.”

“I got you,” Dane says, nodding down at me understandingly. “Well, I can’t actually say I’ve had that specific problem. I mean, I think I’ve been pretty free to grow into the woman I’m meant to be.” His face splits into a grin, and I place my hands on his chest to push him away, laughing despite myself. It’s a moment I expected to end just as quickly as it began, but his hands close over mine, holding my palms against his solidity. His thumbs run over my fingers for just a split second, then he releases me before I can react.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Jenson.”

We resume our trek, and I keep pace beside him. “It’s all right. I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

“I don’t know, I kind of think that saying is bullshit. Things will end if you let them, or they’ll continue if you put in the work. The quality of your relationship reflects the effort you put into it, in my opinion.”

I bite my lip, his words resonating within me. It’s difficult to hear from someone else that it could’ve worked if I had tried harder. Dane bumps me with his shoulder, dragging my thoughts back to the present.

“Hey, I wasn’t meaning you. I don’t know anything about your situation, but I know there’s more involved than anyone else knows.” I sniff, focusing on the path ahead. “My parents didn’t always have an easy relationship, but their love for each other was . . . it was probably the strongest, surest thing I’ve ever witnessed. Our life has never been typical, but if you had just seen both of them, there would be no doubt in your mind that it was the best life.”

I swallow the hard lump in my throat. I can hardly reconcile the Dane the Town Moms made him out to be with the one I’m discovering now. I steal a sidelong glance, wondering about the effect the loss of his mother had on him, but his eyes are focused on the trail ahead, his conscience consumed by whatever memory he’s replaying in his mind.

“That’s admirable. And difficult; I won’t pretend it isn’t. All the love in the world couldn’t make Jenson and I bulletproof. We could not have been more different personality-wise, but that wasn’t what ultimately forced us apart.” I pause to gather my thoughts, maybe to summon a hint of the reservation I felt before when it came to talking so intimately about myself. I’m surprised that it’s nowhere to be found.

“He was an alcoholic, and he chose drinking over fixing our marriage, ten times out of ten. It’s hard to place value in something when your partner doesn’t. And beyond that,” I clear my throat, drawing composure from the serenity of our surroundings, “I returned home one day to find that our home—the one that we’d created together—had gone up in flames. I didn’t know if my husband, or any of our belongings, had survived. It turns out he had been drinking all day, and the accident was a result of his negligence. That was the last straw for me.” Dane doesn’t respond, and I respect his silence more than he knows.

“I tried everything I could think of before it got to that point—counseling, rehab. Nothing was enough to inspire him to change. He would always revert to the drinking. I think he felt trapped by routine and predictability. His spontaneity was exciting at first—it reminded me of my younger days, when life was more carefree. I didn’t realize how chaotic it was to my own being. I guess I finally began to crave stability. Someone I could rely on to be there for me when I needed them. Now, I can do life how I want. I can stray from the parameters of my comfort zone on my own time and not feel obligated to listen to what anyone else has to say about it.” My lips snap closed, and I wait to feel regret seep into the recesses those self-centered words leave in my mind.

“That sounds a little selfish,” I admit, shaking my head and stabbing my walking stick into the ground extra hard. This is why I don’t bother explaining myself to anyone.

“Hey—I wouldn’t have asked about you and how you felt if I didn’t really want to know. It doesn’t make you selfish that you couldn’t support him and his issues any longer. People like him have to find the strength in themselves to change. You gave him your support, but you can’t expect a relationship to progress if only one of the participants is giving it their all.”

I chance another glance at him and see that his expression is sincere. It shouldn’t surprise me that he’s more openminded than I gave him credit for, but it does.

“On a more positive note, we’ve reached our destination.” His declaration makes me look up, and I halt in place, mid-step, taking in the scene before us. We’ve reached the end of a rocky outcropping where the land descends sharply below us, lending us unobstructed views of forestry in all directions and a sparkling lake in the distance. It’s so breathtaking I can’t even remember how long we’ve been walking.

I am awestruck. The landscape is a canvas of greens and ochres, and I’m certain I’ve never seen anything look so alive. Dane scans the topography with wonderment like it’s his first time seeing it, when I’m fairly certain it’s not. He navigated those trails like a seasoned pro, and I suspect he did it all to get me here, to this view. It makes me and all my problems feel so, so small.

“If you’d told me this was the goal, I wouldn’t have been so grumpy at the beginning,” I finally say when I catch my words.

“Ah, it wasn’t so bad.” He turns to me, revealing a grin that rivals the beauty of the setting. Meanwhile, his eyes trace a languid path down to my mouth. “Besides, I kind of enjoyed seeing you speechless.”

I shake my head wryly to cover up my blush.

Dane just steps around me, lifting my backpack so I can slip my arms out of the harness. At this point, I’m too tired and amazed to be self-conscious about the backpack-sweat trails that have formed on my chest and shoulders.

“The mysterious backpack. Whatever could it hold?”

“Our reward,” he says ambiguously.

From his own backpack, Dane pulls out a couple of rolled towels, handing them to me. I wonder what we could possibly need them for until he produces a bottle of wine and a corkscrew, and I almost deflate with relief. When it comes to hiking equipment, I don’t think it can get any better than that. I spread the towels out over the softest patch of ground I can find, lounging on one while he pours the wine into two plastic cups.

“Here you are,” he says, handing me one. He extends his own in a toast, and I clink mine against it. “To finding ourselves in Heronwood.”

“And to getting ourselves out of Heronwood.” I give him a pointed look, bringing the wine to my lips.

“And to finding our way out of this forest, because I don’t really know how we got here in the first place.”

I pause mid-sip, mumbling, “Shut up,” from the mouth of my cup.

“Really, you were distracting me with all that truth.”

I roll my eyes as Dane sinks down beside me, encircling his bent knees with his arms. Here, amongst nothing but trees and rocks and nature, I somehow sense that I’m witnessing him in his element.

“I’m joking,” he says. “Mostly.”

“Well, in case we have to get all Survivor out here, what else did you bring?”

Dane snaps and points at me. “Oh yeah, kind of the whole point of the backpack.” He begins to root through my bag, selecting items and placing them on the towel between us. A bag of grapes. A block of cheese. A loaf of French bread and a wrapped roll of prosciutto and mozzarella. All items I would never expect, coming from him.

“This might be the fanciest hike I’ve ever been on,” I comment.

“Been on a lot of hikes?”

“Nope. Did you happen to bring a knife with you as well?” I unwrap the block of cheese and look up at him questioningly.

“Shit. I knew there was something I forgot. I mean, yes, of course I have a knife. Not one clean enough to cut something we plan on eating, though.” Brushing his hands off on his pants, he rifles through his bag again, all but turning it upside down to find something that will suffice.

“It’s fine, we can just—” I nibble a corner of the cheese and take a swallow of wine, moaning my approval. Cheese is cheese, when you get down to it.

“That works, too.” His approval is evident from his smile, and he accepts the cheese from me and bites off another corner.

We eat and drink for a while, sharing the food and the silence and the magnificent view. As the time passes, the air grows cooler, and I pull my jacket back on and wrap my arms around my knees. Dane notices, offering me his jacket as well, but I insist that I’m fine. I’m already back to questioning my every move, and the quiet moment just makes it easier for me to hear an echo of all the confessions I made earlier. I don’t need to envelope myself in his jacket, his smell, to complicate things further.

Dusting bread crumbs off my leggings, I sit back, pine needles crunching beneath my palms. I shoot a glance at Dane, but he’s watching something in the distance, in silent reflection. The hike was a nice reprieve from the norm, but we didn’t have to come all the way out here to spend time together. We could’ve gone anywhere in town.

“Why are we out here, Dane?” I ask quietly.

“We’ve been through this. You insulted me, for one,” he says, but the slight curve of his lips shows me he’s no longer offended, if he was ever. “Then you interrupted what would have been a relaxing, uneventful Saturday evening.”

“Yes, but why are we here? In the woods? Dinner would’ve been less work.”

“Dinner would’ve been well within your territory,” he says simply, and I quirk my head at him. What is he getting at? His right eyebrow lifts skeptically. “You haven’t figured it out?”

“Obviously not.” I shrug, dragging the heel of my shoe through the detritus.

“You keep things from people. For their benefit or for yours, I can’t tell. You won’t open your mouth for anything but a smart comment unless you’re preoccupied doing something else. I wanted to learn more about you, so I had to figure out a way to keep you busy. Something that’s appropriate for the current state of our relationship, of course, don’t think that didn’t cross my mind, too,” he says in response to my dirty look. “And something that would be fun for both of us.”

“You distracted me so you could find out more about my past?” I ask. I had all but dropped my guard, and now my tone is edged in ice. I don’t enjoy being outsmarted, but I especially hate being tricked.

“Better than going behind your back and getting the version from someone else, right?”

Damn. “Ouch.”

“I don’t blame you for being cautious. I just wish it were easier for you to trust my side of the story,” he says, and though his tone is soft, it’s also curt.

I nod absentmindedly until I remember one important point. “You actually haven’t told me anything about your side of the story.”

“I know.” He grimaces, focuses on something in the distance again. “I haven’t been avoiding it, I just wanted to wait until the right time. Then I realized there is no right time. Not for this. That’s also why I chose this place. It’s like nature knows no lies. Everything seems easier to say out here.”

I brace myself without even realizing it. I haven’t known him to tiptoe around a subject the way he is now.

Dane’s eyes land on mine. I can feel his intensity. “There’s a lot of truth in the things you heard, I won’t deny that. Some of the stories have been twisted over time, but the gist is true.”

I feel my heart drop an inch in my chest. Criminal. Drug-affiliated. Assaulter. The comments from the other women repeat in my mind, but Dane’s calm gaze muffles them. I don’t know what should worry me more: placidity or anger.

“Tell me,” I say. I see his chest rise when he takes a breath.

“The incident with Grant Michaels—that’s true. I was charged with assault. I didn’t bother to explain myself because it always comes out as an excuse.”

I find myself agreeing to that last part. I know more about that than he is aware of. “Like you said, this place knows no lies. I’ll just have to trust that what you say is true.”

Dane’s expression darkens, as if he’s mentally checked out of the present. “It was during one of my games—baseball. Grant’s son Zaine was my teammate, and Coach decided not to start him that game. When Grant showed up and saw his boy on the bench, he got right up next to the fence, leaning over it and reaming Coach out. We all know to stay out of stuff like that, so we just hung back and watched. But then I saw Grant gesturing toward me, saying that if it wasn’t for my sick mother, I wouldn’t be starting in Zaine’s place. Him mentioning my mother—that got me up off that bench faster than a gunshot. I had tried to keep quiet, but seeing that level of disrespect—him talking down to coach like he was a lower than a dog—with nobody there to take up for him, I just couldn’t stand by any longer. When I tried to defend Coach, Grant called my mother a worthless druggie whore who’d been passed around town more times than he could count.” I wince at the words, even though a decade of time separates us from them.

“I lost it. When people say they see red when they’re angry, I believe them. Everything looked red at that moment. The diamond, the people in the stands. I even felt red—it was like my heartbeat was everywhere. I punched Grant right in the nose without a second thought. But that wasn’t enough. I hopped the fence and continued to beat his ass, only stopping because three of my teammates pulled me off and two of them ended up on the ground. Coach heard the words, and so did half the team, but this town is as corrupt as anywhere. He was always gunning for a favorable position in the community, and everyone in the stands was willing to back up Grant’s claim that I assaulted him over his criticism of my baseball skills. Nobody was going to jump in and defend the kid they all thought came from trash. Even with Coach’s statement, I was charged with assault. I wish I could say I regret it, but I don’t. I know who I am. Who I was. If I have to deal with the consequences for defending Coach, and the most precious thing there was to me at the time, so be it.”

I search the man in front of me—tensed, solid muscles, jaw flexing, the tender skin thrumming just over the artery in his neck—and try to muster up any feelings of fear or caution, but I can’t. If sticking up for his mom is the worst he’s done, I can’t fault him for that. I can tell by the shake in his voice how much she meant to him, and that dredging up his past to be honest with me is difficult.

I want to reach out to him—my hand twitches on the towel—but I can’t. It seems too intimate. “Tell me about your mother.” Before my eyes, his tight expression smooths into one of forlorn nostalgia.

“She had her faults, just like anyone else. But she was the most understanding, kind-hearted person there ever was. She suffered from depression, so there were times when she was withdrawn and reclusive. We wouldn’t see her for days, sometimes up to a week. But when she was present, she was truly present.” His eyes shine with reverence. “She used every moment as a lesson, every opportunity to teach Trey and I about the world. When we walked around the yard, through the woods, we learned not only about animals but also the consequences of human nature. Deforestation and pollution. She loved nature and what it had to offer us. She taught us that every tree, every leaf, every grain of sand has a purpose.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to distract from the roar of emotions inside of me. I didn’t know her, but I know that she’s dead, and that makes me unexpectedly and undeniably sad.

“She had an early stroke. She survived, thankfully, but the prognosis was grim. She suffered from paralysis and sometimes had trouble speaking, but even with the difficulty of everyday tasks like walking and talking, it was her quality of life that my father was most concerned about. We couldn’t afford it, but he hired someone for at-home care. He needed to work almost constantly to fund her recovery, and we were just barely teenagers. It took a toll on all of us, but even at the most difficult of times, I still remembered the person she was: an avid explorer and lover of all things.” He pauses and clears his throat. His eyes are dry, but he blinks hard like he’s trying to fend off tears, and I find that my own are on the verge of spilling over. Despite my own family troubles, I can’t imagine going through something like that.

“She ended up having another stroke a year later. That one was fatal. At a time when you would expect the town to rally in support, the majority of Heronwood was busy speculating about what caused it. Most blamed it on drug use, though I’d never known her to use anything but a little weed to wind down at night. I realize it’s illegal, but I don’t think something like that warrants the persecution she went through.”

“I agree, and I’m sorry. About your mom and that nobody was there for you.” Even now, after experiencing the scorn of his community at a time when he needed them most, he’s more concerned about the disrespect shown to his mother. He chews his lip, but he doesn’t acknowledge my condolences.

We sit in a silence only interrupted by the wind sighing through the trees as the weight of what he’s said settles around us. Unlike with me, his admission doesn’t seem to have unburdened him. That’s not something that leaves you. And although what he’s told me is monumental, the loss of his mother and his fight with Grant only occupy a small portion of a past I’m not privy to.

“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me for that part, and I don’t want you involved in the other bullshit. That’s why I didn’t tell you sooner.”

The other bullshit. I want to know what that encompasses, but I have a feeling he’s reminisced enough for one day. “If we keep seeing each other, I think I’m already a little involved.”

His chin lifts. “You want to keep seeing me?”

I suck my upper lip into my mouth, thumbing the hem of my shirt. “I don’t . . . that’s not what I meant. I didn’t really mean to start seeing anyone. I just—” Blowing out a breath, I drop my head back on my neck. “I don’t know what I want.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Things are complicated, don’t you think?”

He nods once. “Yes. But that doesn’t change what you want.”

I swallow hard. God. Everything from his stubble to his honesty is beckoning me to him. “Doesn’t it? It affects things, whether we like it to or not, and there’s still more to the story, isn’t there?”

Dane shifts, drawing his knees up and facing me. “Is it going to change your opinion of me?”

“If it does, will that make it any less true?”

He cocks his head. “Fair enough. Even though I hate to admit it, you were right to want to keep your distance from me. My family is involved in some stuff.” Angling his face toward the sky, he blows out a sigh, and I stiffen beside him. This is already sounding like a replication of what I heard from girls’ night. “It began when my mom was sick and my dad was bearing the brunt of her medical bills on his own. There wasn’t much he could do to make any extra money, he was already working sixteen-hour days as it was. We were facing foreclosure, and my father couldn’t stand the thought of not being able to provide a home for his family on top of everything else. So he started dealing. He turned a good profit, with little time involved, but there’s only so much you can accomplish in that position. He made the right connections, sided with the right people and proved his loyalty, and he eventually worked his way up. But it didn’t stop when my mother died. He’s focusing more on the shop now, but he’s too tangled up in everything else just to cut ties. I guess you could say he oversees operations.”

Even prefaced by weeks of gossip, what he’s telling me is hard to absorb. “Is the shop legit?”

He fiddles with a thumbnail, conflicted. “I don’t want to tell you too much.”

“Because you’re afraid you can’t trust me?”

“No. I probably trust you more than anyone in this town. But I don’t want you to know too much because I never wanted you involved in this in the first place. Anyone associated with me is associated with the shit my family’s wrapped up in.”

“That’s not true, Dane.”

“It is, and not only socially. After years of what my father has done, what Trey has done, they’ve collected a lot of adversaries who would love to see them fail. It’s natural to make enemies in that business. I don’t want anyone trying to use you, or thinking they can get information from you.”

“You’re worried about my safety?” It all seems so farfetched, and the seriousness he’s trying to impart clashes with the serenity of our surroundings. It doesn’t feel like reality.

His shrug is exaggerated, like he can hardly believe I would ask such a question. “Of course. As you should be.”

“Okay, fine, we won’t go there. But you’ve already got me out here in the middle of the woods, all to yourself, so tell me anything that’s directly related to you. I think it’s the least I deserve after the guilt trip I experienced the other day.”

Dane scratches his stubble, appearing reluctant. “All right. I’ve never dealt. I used for a short time when I was nineteen—wanted to escape the hell I was living in. It was short-lived. Haven’t touched it since. I don’t work with Trey or my dad, other than what hours I put in at the shop a couple days of week. I restore houses with my buddy Max for the most part. Over the past seven years or so, I’ve been putting as much distance between me and them as possible.”

My brows knit together when that last part triggers something he said to me before. “Why haven’t you just left?”

Something like pain flashes across his face for a millisecond, but it fades before I can be sure. “I wish I could. But I have to earn the right to do that.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

He shakes his head again, his eyes hard. Road block. “I don’t want to get into it.” I’m about to say something smart when he continues. “I never meant to end up in a place where I’d have to admit to any of this. I planned to fly solo until I got my life sorted out and planned my next moves. But you happened, and I’d be lying if I said you would be easy to walk away from. I want to be honest with you—I am being honest with you—but I also want to see you again. And I haven’t felt that way in a long time.”

I never thought I’d be faced with this—a man who has the capability to weaken my resolve while at the same time being involved in something I wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. But the notes of defeat in his voice thread their way into my arguments and shatter them. He could be completely involved in the illicit activities of his family, and I’d have no way of knowing any better. The intimate tug on my heart tells me differently.

Dane clears his throat, shaking me out of the throes of my internal conflict. “I dismissed it at first, thinking it was partly because I was lonely, but it’s much more than that. Maybe because you’re here when you could be anywhere else, and most times I’d rather be anywhere else. But that’s too simple of an explanation. I couldn’t fully describe how I felt about you if I tried.”

With that, my resistance seems to seep out of me. I know how he feels, though I’m no closer to explaining it myself. Every part of me wants to give in, but experience blares a warning. Recklessness isn’t always safe, or foolproof. The past decade has taught me that. Then again, I’ve never been one to crave safety.

I wanted to be wowed. I wanted to explore the possibilities of the woman I could be—and isn’t that why I came here in the first place? I never expected to find those things in a man, but the one beside me has spoken nothing but truth instead of talking me in circles, and it’s like a lungful of fresh air. How long have I needed that? Jenson painted a pretty picture, but Dane is the picture. He lives his truth in addition to speaking it. It sounds crazy, even to me, but I feel Dane’s very presence filling me up, his essence creating a soundtrack like a drumbeat; steady, powerful, impossible to ignore. Energy seems to course through my veins, electrifying my skin.

I finally meet his eyes. They’re narrowed, seeking out my thoughts. Surrender seems to leave me with my words. “What do we do now?”

His answer is definitive when he says, “I think you should kiss me.”