Talon
The sun was setting by the time we pulled up in front of the house. I cut the engine and turned to look at Laura.
“Where are we?” she asked, looking out at the small, weathered farmhouse surrounded by overgrown fields and woods. She knew where we were — we were only a couple miles from Jake’s place, where she grew up. But I knew what she was asking.
“Somewhere quiet,” I said, my voice low. I didn’t elaborate, just swung my leg off the bike and held out a hand to her. She took it without hesitation, her fingers curling around mine as she stepped onto the gravel driveway.
The air smelled like wet earth and wildflowers. The kind of scent that could make you forget about the noise of the world for a while. I led her up the porch steps, the wood groaning under our weight. The screen d
