“Say yes, biker boy, and we will find out.”
“Yes.”
I had never felt happiness like I did in that moment. At least until we stood together beneath the oldest tree on the Whitlock farm and Joe, a man who claimed to despise Cam, bound us forever with the same scarf he had used for the others. Forhimself, when he’d married his own true love more than a decade ago.
“You’d better appreciate this, O’Brian. This scarf is older than your fucking sins.”
Cam grinned. Almost. He still seemed stunned by the turn his evening had taken.
He gazed at me, and then Saint. And then Jevon as he placed his hand over where ours were joined. “You give your hearts as the earth gives you life. May your love be as wild as the moon and the sun, and as free as the trees and the birds in the sky. May you find strength in each other, adventure and joy. May you always find peace.”
Joe withdrew the bindings.
Jevon’s hand remained. “Go forward in love, my friends. And so it is.”
Cam closed his eyes. “And so it fucking is.”
* * *
A few hours later, we left.
Cam did not know where we were going, and for once, neither did Saint.
I led them west, towards home, but turned inland before we reached Whitness, riding away from the water that tormented Saint so on his darkest days.
They followed me uphill and into the dense woodland. Through a gate that Jakov had secured for me before he’d left after Christmas and into the grounds of a property it had taken me six long months to buy.
I pulled up outside the house that had been built over five levels. In the dark, we could not see the far-reaching views over Dartmoor, but that would come in the morning.
Our bikes engines cut off, leaving only blissful silence and a natural tranquillity Saint needed so much. It was quiet here. Private.Still. It was ours, if they wanted it.
Saint sprang from his bike, his bright gaze flitting all over.
Cam was slower to roll from his, but he came to me, pressing close, hands on my skin, lips at my temple. “What is this place?”
“I sold the penthouse in Bristol. I thought maybe we could use this as our bolthole instead.”
Cam held me tighter, not saying a thing for a long moment. Then he tipped my chin, forcing me to look at him, not that it was any hardship. “Why?”
“The penthouse was tainted by death. This... I would like it to be a place for living.”
Saint drew nearer. “There’s a forest over there.”
“I know, wingman. Twelve acres, and it is ours too, if men can own such a thing.”
Cam chuckled. “You bought the woods?”
“I took some advice and bought all the land down to the road. Jakov is good for more than poor decisions, I suppose.”
Saint wandered off, as fascinated as he had been on the Whitlock family farm, a sight that made me long for daylight.
Cam stuck by me as I moved to the front door and lifted our joined hands to press his thumb to the lock pad.
The front door clicked, the heavy security system buzzing in my phone, thehiddensecurity system that did nothing to mar the rustic beauty I’d chosen for Saint. The rough wood floors and cracked walls, the spider webs in the old beams that, for him, I would happily live with for the rest of my days.
We slipped inside. The house was old but had been mostly renovated by the previous owners. In the spring, I had furnished it enough to be habitable.
I had furnished it enough forthis.