Thief:A Bad Boy Romance(57)

 

“What else are sisters for besides helping each other escape horrible and awkward family encounters, right?”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Nine

 

 

 

 

 

Silas

 

 

 

 

“Hi.”

 

I grin at the sound of her voice as I down the pier, even before I look up to see her sitting there.

 

“Hi yourself.”

 

She’s sitting on the edge of the roof of my boat, perched by the ladder with her feet hooked onto the top rung.

 

“You lost, Hammond?”

 

She shakes her head, her teeth raking over her bottom lip in a way that makes me want to grab her and claim those lips right here and now.

 

“Blaine’s here. In Shelter Harbor.”

 

I frown, my jaw clenching at the sound of that fucking douchebag’s name.

 

“Oh?”

 

I’m old enough to understand that what happened with us the other night doesn’t mean anything more than whatever it was that night. And I’m not stupid enough to think one night with her changes any of the other shit going on in her life - with her family, with work.

 

With Blaine, even if they were officially split before I even touched her the other day.

 

We’ll look past the part where she’s legally my fucking wife.

 

But I’m also realizing how tenuous my newfound existence in her life is. Sure, she and I have a lifetime of history, but that history was a lifetime ago. We’ve both been out in the world, and as much as I want to bury that smug little shit Blaine at the bottom of the Harbor, I’m aware that he and her have their own history.

 

She must notice the look on my face, because she smiles slowly and shakes her head.

 

“Not what you think.”

 

“I don’t think anything.” I shrug as casually as I can.

 

“He just,” she scowls, glaring down at her feet. “The whole thing is just so stupid. I mean he cheated on me, and he left me for this other girl. And now he’s fucking at my parents’ house lying through his teeth about the whole thing being a misunderstanding, and bribing them with fucking skis!”

 

She’s shouting now, her face red and her eyes furious as she looks up at me wildly. “My dad doesn’t even like skiing! He just went last year because he wanted Blaine to feel like he was fucking family, and- and-”

 

She trails off, her shoulders heaving and her chest rising and falling as she sucks in air.

 

She looks up at me after a second, a crooked smile on her face.

 

“Can we…” She looks down at her feet before dragging those big green eyes up to my face. “Can we go somewhere?”

 

I fold my arms over my chest, a grin on my lips. God, she sounds just like the girl I knew right now, sitting there like that in torn cut-offs and an old t-shirt.

 

“Got somewhere in mind?”

 

She shakes her head. “Just out of this fucking town.”

 

I chuckle as I step onto the boat. “Gorgeous, you came to the right place.” She smiles when I offer her my hands to help her down.

 

“Yeah, we can definitely do that.”

 

 

 

The light fades over the town as we drive into the sunset, literally.

 

The old red and white Ford 150 bumps and creaks as we take the back roads out of town, and I know she remembers this thing. This was our escape - our ticket to do what we wanted the second I got my license.

 

We climb up past the promenade on Turner Hill, with the whole harbor and the port disappearing behind us. We don’t speak, but we don’t have to. We’re comfortable in this silence. At one point I see her phone light up on her lap, and I grin when I watch her ignore it.

 

This is just us up here.

 

She doesn’t ask where we’re going, but I know she knows. And I haven’t been there myself in eight years, but it’s basically on autopilot in my head. Ivy turns and smiles at me in the dim light of the cab as she sees where I’m turning off the main, knowing where we’re going.

 

The overlook by the falls.

 

Yeah, this place. This was a place of firsts. And I love that I know that even being here with me again has her flushed. I also know she’s hurt, and wounded from this Blaine asshole, and I know that means I should keep my distance.

 

But I’m fairly certain I’m not going to be able to. Not ever again, and certainly not now.

 

I grab the blanket tucked behind the driver’s seat as we step out of the cab. The trickling rushing sound of the waterfall - quieter in the summer - filling the silence across the glacial pool from where I’ve parked.

 

I hop into the back of the truck and kick the tailgate down, putting the blanket down before I reach out with my hand, grinning as I help her up.