Page 31 of What You Never Knew

He smiles and pushes down on the throttle. The boat planes immediately and plows through the water steadily. I move out of the cab area and stand in the wind, my skirt blowing back behind me, the lake air filling my lungs. I’ve missed this place, this lake, this life, so badly that the pain of it still reverberates through my bones. We drive straight across the bay in the direction of Windset. Ezra slows the boat down as we get closer, and it’s clear that the old resort is our destination. Turning, I shoot him a look of confusion, but he just sends back a mischievous smile.

It’s even sadder to see the details of the decay up close. Boards are missing from the docks, the stone retaining wall has crumbled in places, the grass is high, the once immaculate white paint of the buildings is peeling or has fallen away in chunks.

Ezra passes right by the docks, raising the motor up and bringing the boat in to the sandy beach area. He cuts the engine, hops out, and ties the boat up to a light pole on the shore.

“I don’t trust that dock,” he says, coming back for me.

“Are we even allowed to be here?” I whisper.

“They’re a client of mine,” he mockingly whispers back. “They hired me years ago to keep an eye on the place. I come once a week to make sure there’s no vandalism or animals living in the buildings.” He holds out his hand and helps me step from the boat into the shallow water of the beach. “So technically I’m just doing my job.”

“No shoes was a good idea,” I say, holding my dress bunched up in one hand so it doesn’t get wet.

I make my way onto the shore, and he goes back to the boat to grab a cooler and a shopping bag. “I brought supplies,” he says, holding it up.

“I would have brought something,” I’m quick to say. “If I’d known.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry. You keep your minimal groceries and wine for yourself.” He puts the cooler and bag down. “How about a tour before dinner?”

“I’d love one.”

Reaching into the cooler, he pulls out two beers. “We’ll take these along.” He twists the cap off one and passes it to me, then takes my hand and leads me away from the beach.

It feels normal somehow, holding hands with Ezra and walking the grounds of an abandoned resort, drinking beer in a fancy dress and no shoes. That’s what’s always been so wonderful about him—his world is interesting and quirky, and when you’re in it with him, it feels like exactly the right way to be.

We follow the flagstone paths that lead around the resort. They’re all still intact, walled in by tall grasses that whip against our legs as we move. We go first to one of the private cabins with a lake view that sits on the shore. Pulling out a heavy set of keys, he searches for a few seconds, finds the right one, and then opens the door.

There’s still furniture inside—a bed, dresser, desk, love seat, art on the walls. It smells of stale, closed-up-cottage air. Back in the day, this would have been one of the most expensive lodging options. There were a handful of private cabins and then hotel-type rooms in the main lodge.

“What a waste,” I say, wandering around the space.

“It is. Apparently it’s being kept now for tax purposes. They apply each year for permits to reopen, then let them expire. Definitely some shady stuff involved.”

“And these are your employers?”

He shrugs. “I take what I can get.”

“Is it a coincidence that the first place you brought me has a bed in it?” I narrow my eyes and flash him a half smile, loaded and very suggestive.

He laughs nervously and actually seems to blush. “No. I mean yes, it’s a coincidence. I wouldn’t just presume that because—”

“Ezra!” I loudly interrupt him. “I was just joking.”

“Well, the fact that you thought of it makes it pretty obvious what you have on your mind,” he says with mock indignation.

I take a step closer to him. “And what if I do?”

He moves in. “I’m fine with that.”

I grab hold of his T-shirt and pull him to me, then move my hand up and stroke the stubble on his face. “Not a fan of shaving?” I say softly. I can feel his growing excitement against me. I like a slow buildup.

“Not particularly.” His voice is a strained whisper.

I move my hand up into his thick, dark hair while studying his face up close. It’s still hard for me to reconcile the boy I once knew with who he is now. “You grew up into a very handsome man, Ezra Keen,” I say, before brushing my lips across his.

He leans in to prolong the kiss, but I pull back.

“And you’ve grown into an incredibly beautiful woman, June Bennett,” he says.