Year 28 - J.L. Mac Page 0,47

fishing?” I call to her as she climbs aboard and plops herself down. She doesn’t say a word to me. “S’pose we ought to go, anyway. Might get rain,” I say still smiling as she glares at me peeling the wet fabric of her clothes away from her skin.

Sylas

17 years old…

“Come on, Rae!”

“I have to read this chapter, Sy!” she pouts flopping her chemistry book down in front of her on the blanket.

“I’ve got something you can study,” I tease wagging my brows at her.

“You are not helping. We have a big test Friday. You should be studying too.”

“You’re right,” I say softly, nodding my head with my hands up in surrender. Rae pops a piece of gum in her mouth and narrows her blue gaze on me. I trudge slowly out of the bayou pretending to reach for a towel. Instead I lurch for Rae and toss her over my shoulder. She squeals and laughs while slapping my ass and back.

“Sy, no! Put me down,” she gasps, laughing loud as hell.

I pull her back in front of me and hook my hands under her arms then toss her back, deeper into the bayou. She breaks the surface of the dark water shaking her head but smiling all the same. I swim to her and gather her in my arms. God, she feels amazing. I’m the luckiest bastard in the entire school.

“How’s this for chemistry?” I whisper, grinning like a lunatic.

“My new favorite subject,” she breathes against my lips.

“Pop quiz. Think you’ll pass?” I ask brushing my lips lightly against hers as my hands explore her waist then hips then her perfect ass.

“I’m pretty confident I know the material,” she breathes seductively and I feel her legs tighten around my waist urging me onward. This is what we do. This is the magic we make, and it comes so easy. Conning Raegan Potter into falling in love with me is my greatest achievement to date.

The sound of radio chatter steals my attention from the memory of the raven-haired girl that used to love to swim with me.

“This is Year Ten to Lou, come in.”

“Sylas best get your tail off that water, son. Nasty storm bands comin’ in from the southeast. Radar looks awful bad and growing worse by the minute.”

“Roger that Lou. Headed to the marina now.” I hang the mic back in its cradle and fish a dry shirt out from beneath the center console. I tug it on and toss another dry shirt to Rae. “Put this on. And put this on,” I instruct tossing a life vest into her lap.

“Is this entirely necessary?” The look of trepidation in her blue eyes makes my stomach knot. Raging bitch-zilla or not, she’s still important to me.

“Hope not.” I shrug.

“That’s reassuring,” she mutters with her face turned toward the churning sky then to the water, which is growing choppy and rough. Rae wastes no time turning away from me and peeling off her wet shirt to replace it with a dry BCF T-shirt.

I slip the throttle forward and put Year Ten’s three outboard engines to work. They scream to life and put us on plane skipping over the surface of the water in no time. Rae’s white-knuckled grip on the edge of her seat doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re okay, Snow. I got you,” I shout over the motors. Rae’s azure eyes find mine but she’s silent and expressionless. The water grows choppier as the storms outflow wreaks havoc on the bay and though I cut through it as best I can Year Ten still rocks and hits heavily against the rough seas.

By the time we arrive at the slip we’re both soaked to the bone. The rain pelts down on us as I secure the dock lines and fenders to the sides of Year Ten. Rae just stands there on the dock, shivering and staring at me. I hop off Year Ten and loop my arm in Rae’s all but dragging her back to my truck.

“I have a place here. We can go get dry there and wait for these storms to clear out.”

“Just take me home Sylas,” Rae says nothing more than that. No insults, no jabs, no snide remarks. I’m immediately on defense. A quiet Rae is a scary Rae. My truck carries us the four miles to my cabin in no time. Only a few minutes after pulling out of the marina parking lot, we are driving down the pea gravel driveway leading to my cabin. I park