Page 161 of Only the Wicked

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Twenty minutes later, we’re parked at the Glen Falls trailhead. The familiar scent of pine and earth fills my lungs as we shoulder our packs. Rhodes is already studying the trail map posted on the wooden kiosk, but I know where we’re going isn’t marked on any map.

“Want to take the usual route?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual.

“Actually,” he says, adjusting his pack straps, “I was thinking we could explore a bit. Maybe head off-trail like we did that first time.”

Perfect. He’s making this easier than I thought.

“Lead the way,” I tell him, and his eyes light up with that boyish excitement I love.

We follow the main trail for about a mile before Rhodes veers off onto the narrower, less maintained path that leads toward the swimming hole. The sounds of other hikers fade away, replaced by the gentle gurgle of the stream and the rustle of leaves overhead. Fall has painted the mountains in brilliant oranges and reds, but the canopy is still thick enough to dapple the trail with shifting patterns of light and shadow.

“Remember the first time we came this way?” Rhodes asks, glancing back at me. “You were so worried about trespassing.”

“I was being responsible,” I protest, but I’m smiling. “Besides, look how that worked out.”

His laugh echoes through the trees. “Best trespassing of my life.”

As we near the clearing, I can hear the familiar hollow plunks of water hitting rock, and my heartbeat races. Not from the hike, but from what’s about to happen.

“You know,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant, “I have something to tell you.”

“Oh yeah?” He’s focused on ducking under a low branch.

“That land we’re about to walk onto? The pasture that connects to the swimming hole?”

“The private property that technically makes us trespassers?” He grins over his shoulder.

“It’s not private anymore. Well, it is, but…” I take a deep breath. “I bought it. Closed last week while you were away.”

Rhodes stops so suddenly I almost walk into his back. He turns around slowly, his expression cycling through confusion, surprise, and something that might be awe.

“You bought it?”

“All of it. The swimming hole, the pasture, even the little cabin that’s falling down near the road. It’s ours now. Well, yours. It’s your anniversary gift. I had trouble coming up with something you didn’t own that you would want.”

For a moment, he just stares at me. Then his face breaks into that unguarded smile that still makes my knees weak.

“Sydney Parker MacMillan,” he says, and hearing my married name in that tone sends warmth spreading through my chest, “you are full of surprises.”

“Do you like it?”

Instead of answering, he drops his pack right there on the trail and pulls me into his arms, kissing me with an intensity that makes the forest spin around us. When we break apart, he’s grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Like it? Syd, this is…” He shakes his head. “This place changed everything for me. For us.”

“That’s why I wanted it to be ours. Really ours.”

We emerge into the clearing, and it’s exactly as it’s always been—the natural quarry with its crystal-clear water, boulders perfect for jumping, and the echo of water against stone walls. But now it looks different somehow, knowing it belongs to us.

“The water’s going to be cold,” Rhodes warns, but he’s already shrugging out of his flannel.

“The air is likely colder than the water,” I counter, “but the nice thing is the snakes are probably becoming less active.”

“Want to test that theory?”

I’m already kicking off my boots, not out of eagerness to test my snake theory but because I anticipated skinny dipping—it’s part of the gift, after all. “Race you in.”