Page 125 of Made for Mayhem

Daisy buckled in next to me, her fingers brushing mine on the bench seat as I pulled out of the parking spot. Her smile had faded, showing the cracks beneath it.

So I started talking—anything to keep her afloat after the weight of this morning.

“Beckett used to get grounded more than any kid I knew,” I said, turning left at the light. “One time he tried to impress a girl by riding his mountain bike off the roof of the hardware store.”

She blinked. “Off the roof?”

“Yep. Used a mattress in the dumpster as a landing pad.” I shook my head, grinning. “Missed by about three feet and had a broken wrist and a black eye to show for it.”

She smiled, so I kept going.

“Naturally, Mason saw that and decided he could do it better. Except he picked the grocery store roof—which is twice as high—and Bob came out screaming bloody murder when he spotted him climbing the drainpipe.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes. Emmy and I pretended we didn’t know them while they were getting lectured by the sheriff and their mom in turns.”

Daisy laughed again, but this time it didn’t reach her eyes.

I drummed my fingers on the wheel, then made a decision.

Instead of heading toward home, I swung right down a narrow road that cut behind town and toward the ridge. I reached into the back seat, snagging the stack of blankets I’d tossed in earlier and dropped them onto the bench seat between us.

After a few seconds, she angled toward me. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “That’s vague.”

“Mmhmm.”

The pavement ended, gravel crunching under the tires as we wound up the hillside. Tall pines crowded the road, sunlight dripping between them in gold streaks. The higher we climbed, the thinner the air felt, clean and sharp.

“Huddy,” she said slowly, “are you kidnapping me?”

I smirked. “Relax. I promise you’ll like it.”

She shook her head, but I didn’t miss the way her shoulders loosened a little, just like I hoped they would.

At the last bend, the trees opened up, revealing a flat pull-off overlooking the whole valley. The Gore Range stretched out in jagged blue layers on every side, and down below, Linwood looked small enough to fit in the palm of my hand.

“This,” I said, putting the truck in park, “is Elkhorn Point.”

“Is this where you brought girls to make out?” she asked, one eyebrow arched high.

“Absolutely,” I said without shame. “Some of my best work happened up here.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now, and this one was genuine.

I hopped out, grabbed the blankets, and rounded the truck. “Come on.”

Her door shut behind us as we stepped into the thick quiet of the trees. A narrow path cut between the aspens, worn down by hikers. The air was cooler up here, crisp enough to sting my lungs a little. Daisy kept up though, her hand still in mine.

The sound of distant, rushing water came first, then the trees parted to reveal a pond tucked into the bowl of the mountain. It was still and perfect except for the shimmer of a waterfall feeding into it on the far side.

A rope swing hung from a thick branch overhead, swaying gently above the clear water.

Daisy stopped beside me, eyes widening. “Ty…”