Page 53 of The Death of Kisses

“Hi,” I breathed softly, returning her tender kiss, my heart fluttering with something unspoken.

“I need you to get dressed, baby,” she said with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, a hint of adventure daring to ignite. “We’re going on vacation.” Her words sent a thrill through me, a promise of escape and new beginnings.

“What?” I mumbled, fighting off the yawn that threatened to take over, my mind still tangled in sleep.

“Yes, sleepyhead,” she teased with a playful grin, “let’s move!” Her hand swatted my backside, and I yelped, surprised by her energy and affection.

“What about packing?” I asked, slipping into a long-sleeve shirt and tights, unsure of what she was plotting but feeling the electric buzz of excitement.

“Already packed for you,” she teased again, her body vanishing from my sight as she disappeared from my bedroom.

“What about food?” I chuckled, still caught in the whirlwind of her plans, unsure but eager.

“On the counter. Don’t lay back down!” her voice echoed faintly through the walls, full of warmth and authority.

“Dad?” I asked, fumbling into my tennis shoes and grabbing my jacket, my heart pounding with curiosity.

“He’s working. He’s fine with it,” she reassured me with a gentle smile, shoving a muffin into my hand and spinning me around. Her fingers expertly fastened my hair into a braid, pinning it close to my scalp, a small act of care that made my chest swell.

I turned back to her, my fingers dancing over the braid, wondering what it was for—was this part of the adventure? Then she pulled a bright yellow motorcycle helmet from her backpack.

“Oh my god, Charlie,” I gasped in breathless awe, as she slid the helmet over my head. It was perfect—an emblem of our daring journey, a symbol of trust and freedom.

“We both needed helmets for the trip,” she explained softly, “and I needed one that would work for you.” She took my hand gently, guiding us toward the door, her eyes shining with excitement and love. She handed me a backpack, and I slid it onto my shoulders as she buckled it closed, then grabbed her own.

“I’m so excited,” I grinned, my heart pounding with pure joy.

Charlie pulled us out the door and toward her bike, her eyes flickering with contemplation—was my jacket enough? Before I could protest, she took off her own jacket and carefully placed it over me. Her smile was mischievous, playful—an unspoken promise of adventure. She shut my visor with a tender grin, then helped me climb onto her bike, our world on the brink of something unforgettable.

We drove for what felt like endless hours, her gentle hands occasionally stopping to check if I was cold or needed to use the bathroom—her care was so tender, so genuine, it made my heart swell. I loved how she took care of me, making sure I could stretch my legs, her thoughtfulness wrapping around me like a warm embrace. When I saw the signs flicker past for Ashwood, a surge of curiosity burst within me—an insatiable desire to see what lay ahead, to discover the magic waiting beyond those words.

At a small rest stop, we paused for fuel and snacks, and I sat on the edge of a picnic table, clutching my cheese crackers as my heart fluttered with anticipation. I looked at Charlie, her eyes shining with a secret resolve. “Where are we going?” I asked, a mixture of excitement and wonder on my tongue.

She reached out, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear, her touch so soft, so caring. “You’ll see soon,” she teased, her voice like a promise, “we’re about half an hour away.” Her fingers brushed mine as she asked, “Are you ready to get back on the road?”

I nodded, a joyful smile spreading across my face, and she took my hand—warm, solid—and together, we walked back to her bike. The hum of the engine, the scent of the open air, and the fullness in my chest had me yawning and weighing down with sleep, until Charlie tapped my thigh softly, stirring me gently from the haze.

“Come on, baby, we’re here,” she rumbled, her voice full of warmth and excitement. I blinked my sleepy eyes and slowly took in the sight before me—a breathtaking cabin, nestled against the edge of a shimmering lake that stretched toward the back of the property, whispering promises of peace and wonder.

My heart leaped in my chest as I hurried off the bike, setting the helmet down without a second thought. “Wow, this is—this is amazing,” I whispered, stumbling over the words, like trying to catch hold of a dream that’s slipping through my fingers.

“Welcome to Ashwood,” she said softly, her smile radiant as she held out her hand, leading me up the gnarled oak steps towards the door.

I took her hand, my smile stretching so wide it hurt, filled with a reckless joy, a soul-deep gratitude for this moment, for her, for the wonder that had finally unfolded before my eyes.

Charlie eagerly unlocked the door, shouldering it open with a wide, glowing grin that radiated pure excitement. The cabin greeted us with a gentle scent of cedar and aged books, sunlight spilling through the front windows in warm, golden stripes that danced across the hardwood floors, bathing everything in a tender glow.

“It’s beautiful,” I smiled, awe-filled as I stepped inside, every corner whispering promises of magic and memories waiting to be made. Each room held its own little miracle—a crackling stone fireplace that seemed to invite us in, an oversized couch buried beneath cozy blankets, shelves overflowing with worn paperbacks and ancient board games that looked older than time itself—and I felt my heart swell at the thought of all the stories these walls had witnessed.

I drifted toward the back of the cabin, where a wall of windows opened up to a breathtaking view of the lake, shimmering like a mirror to the sky.

“Charlie, look⁠—”

“Come see the loft first,” she interrupted gently, her voice tinged with an eager thrill I couldn’t ignore.

I burst out laughing. “I’m already looking⁠—”

Before I could finish, she was beside me in two quick strides, her hand slipping warmly into mine before I even reached the back door.