As soon as we got here an hour ago I snapped a photo and sent it to Holden and my friends. A giddiness swept over me as soon as my toes touched the sand. Tears pricked my eye while I stood at the water’s edge brushing my fingers over the bracelet I made from Fox’s stones when we came here as kids.
My brother and I are closer than ever since this road trip started, despite both of us no longer living in the same town. We have to hold onto each other because I don’t think either of us will reach a place of trust with our parents again. Dad keeps trying to call, but I don’t want to talk to him. As far as I’m concerned, Mom can rot behind bars for leaving me at the mercy of the people who attacked me. It’s what they both deserve for all their misdeeds.
I have the love of those who actually care about me—my friends, my brother, my boyfriend. They’re all important to me. They’re more family than my parents have ever been.
Without them, I wouldn’t have followed my dream to finally leave town. Now here I am in California at last.
I filled up the first journal Thea gave me and picked up another on our way out here. It’s cathartic to reflect. I love pouring my thoughts into it, the good and bad, and documenting the memories we’re making.
After we walked up and down the beach looking for new rocks to add to our collection we started on this trip, I sit on the bike in front of Fox, facing him with my legs straddling his powerful thighs. His hands are inside the oversized sides of my loose tank top, thumbs teasing the curves of my tits. I slide my arms around his neck and bite my lip.
“It’s just us here. Like our own little world.”
A rumble sounds in his chest and one of his hands slips further into my shirt, tracing my spine down to my ass. He hauls me closer so I can feel the hard ridge of him against my core. My breath hitches and I rock against him.
“Do you feel free now, baby?” he murmurs against my parted lips.
The sinful rasp in his voice sends a bolt of heat right to my clit. With a soft moan, I nod. He kisses the corner of my mouth, grip flexing on my ass to grind against me.
Smirking, I peel off my top and let it flutter to the sand, feeling every ounce of freedom I’ve claimed. I no longer have to regulate myself or do anything I don’t want to do. There are no reputations to uphold or expectations to meet. I can live on the wind, with Fox at my side where I’m happiest.
He bends to place a kiss on my throat, then lower to my sternum, then captures one of my nipples in his mouth. Waves crash against the shore and a pelican swoops overhead. A carefree laugh escapes me. His lips move back up to brush over mine.
I lean back, but his hand comes up to grasp my throat, pulling me back in.
“Not done with you yet,” he whispers in a smoky, seductive tone before he kisses me again, deeper this time. “Never will be.”
“I’m all yours and you’re mine.”
He takes me apart with his hands and mouth until we have a new memory of California, the first of many where he makes me feel wild on a beach.
I’m happy, fulfilled by chasing whims and traveling. I’m beginning to discover the parts of myself that have lived deep inside for too long, neglected before now.
The freedom is addictive after I’ve gone so long without it, hoping and wishing for it. There’s a light in my heart every time the wind moves through my hair, with each choice I take for myself. What makes it sweeter is doing it all with the person who has my heart—him.
Epilogue
FOX
1 Year Later
Southern California suits us both in ways I never imagined. It’s like our hearts knew we needed this to be our home the minute we first stepped foot in the state all those years ago on a combined family vacation, then spent every minute since missing it until we made our way here at the end of our road trip last summer.
Maisy turned her longing for the Pacific ocean into a bracelet with the small stones I found for her to hold onto the memory, while I inked it into my skin and sought out solace in a foggy cove in Maine until I returned to her.
Kismet, as my girl would say. She’s got me believing in fate.
We did exactly what we dreamed up back in my converted warehouse in Ridgeview—she opened a yoga studio that opens right to the beach and I have a workshop-garage space where I spend my time making whatever my hands create on instinct. More often than not I think the shapes I twist out of the found materials remind me of Maisy, just like the piece we keep in the bedroom of our bungalow a few blocks from the coastline.
Wiping my greasy hands off on a rag, I step back from the classic ‘67 Camaro I’ve been tuning up for a customer while Maisy had her morning sessions at the studio. I want to finish up and beat her back to the house so I can get my surprise ready. My stomach dips at the thought of what I have planned and I toss the dirty rag onto the bench along the wall.
I wash up and close up the shop, strolling out into the alley that connects to the main strip of Venice Beach. As I walk the boulevard, I pull my hair into a small knot with one of the hair ties I stole from Maisy’s nightstand tray I hammered out of a piece of copper I found in an antique shop. It’s getting long, but Maisy likes it.
The walk back to our bungalow isn’t long. The porch is covered in plants, wind chimes, and a couple of stray cats we fed once that have stuck around. I bend to rub the tubby orange one’s clipped ear, smiling when he bumps his head against my knuckles.
“Big day today,” I tell him as I unlock the door.
A quick glance at the clock lets me know I have just enough time to shower before she heads home from her yoga studio. I race through it, skipping a shirt and heading into the front room in just a low-slung pair of jeans with rips in the knees. After ducking outside to pick one of the wild daisies from our garden, I lay it on the coffee table next to her stack of journals and slip the finishing touch onto the stem.