Pricked: Fates Series

By Haley M Malone

Haley M. Malone has been writing fantasy ever since she could remember. Although mythology has always haeld a special place in her heart , she continues tto build different worlds of magic and mayhem novels from her Northern Michigan home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: H. M. Malone
• Release date: Nov 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9781792350429

Book preview

This book is dedicated to three outstanding people that are, unfortunately, no longer with us:

To my grandfather, John Milne, who this entire series was written for. He inspired my creativity at a young age by teaching me how to weave tales of fantasy and intrigue enough to shock your listener and keep them at attention. A man who taught me that being yourself might make people think you’re odd and maybe a bit crazy, but it will make you happy. I hope this makes you proud, grandpa!

To my uncle, Kenneth Brown, who taught me that being a tomboy is actually one of the best titles you can carry. That being able to bait your own hook at the age of five was an accomplishment well deserving of overwhelming celebration. He will forever be one of the strongest men I've ever known.

And finally to a good friend of mine who was taken from us much, much too soon. To know Jeremy Wheeler was to love him. He emitted life and sunshine from every pore of his body. Never failing to sacrifice his own happiness just to see someone else smile. I know he helped me in my darkest hour and for that, I will be forever grateful. 

The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?

                                                -Edgar Allan Poe

One

Hiding the body would be simple. Two hundred acres of soft soil lay beneath my feet, void of almost all human life. Several cast iron pie cookers hung on the wall to my right, prepped and ready to become the perfect weapon. Running my slim fingers against the black, cold metal sent shivers of excitement racing down my spine. If I timed it right, my attack could go off without a hitch. All I had to do was swing hard and not miss.

The bloody mess would, no doubt, send my mother into a tizzy. The prison sentence would be a cakewalk compared to this torture. Constant smacking and popping of bubblegum three feet from me drove forward the plot of murder in my head.         

The victim—I mean girl invading my personal space flipped her platinum hair, causing a wave of flowery perfume to activate my gag reflexes. I couldn’t take it anymore! I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her for another minute without doing something drastic.

And yet, I had to work another three hours with the wretched, soul-sucking vampire until my shift was up.

I needed an out.

I could always fake sick and hide in the bathroom for the remainder of my shift. It would undoubtedly disgust her if I pretended to vomit all over the floor. If she were to squeal to my parents—the store owners—my shift tomorrow would be cut, and I would lose money. Not to mention, my mother would be hovering around me with means to cure my illness.

She’s been on an odd homeopathic kick lately, and I preferred not to have butter smeared all over my body again.

Then the perfect excuse came to me. I’m going to the back to count inventory. You OK by yourself for a while?

She scoffed, flipping her bleached blonde hair once more and picking at her fake nails. I expected one of them to break at any second.

With a roll of her eyes, she huffed, this job isn’t rocket science, Blisster. I’ll be fine, I’m sure.

I cringed when she used that cruel nickname. Okay.

Thankful for the permissive out, I swiveled on my heel and retreated to the far corner of the store where the door to the supply room sat, gratefully treating it like my personal hobbit hole; a hideout fit for a king.

Alex Perry wasn’t a bad person.

I mean, she wasn’t a good person by any means, but I wouldn’t necessarily call her Evil Incarnate. She’s just your run-of-the-mill cheerleader with a gaggle of brain-dead minions at her beck and call. Long legs, lush curves, and perfectly placed hair attracted every boy within a thirty-mile radius.

She controlled the school. The queen bee that even the faculty bowed to like royalty. I was the targeted dirt beneath her fresh new Sketchers ever since we entered the double doors at Inverness Kindergarten. It began the day she caught me talking to someone that wasn’t there.

I tried and begged Alex to believe in Shelly’s presence—the small child with blood leaking from the top of her forehead—but Alex simply could not see her. Ever since that fateful day, she’s painted me as the weird kid that speaks to invisible people.

I’d already taken stock and ordered inventory earlier in the week. The storage room could now be utilized as a safe-haven, instead. I scrolled through my news feed of all social media outlets and found nothing of interest, which meant an angry bird should die a miserable death at my hand. A little retro, I know. But I considered the game to be fun and a huge stress reliever.

I was defeating the very last pig with my mighty yellow bomb bird when I heard a high-pitched screech from the front.

Oh my god!

Couldn’t I have had five minutes of peace before I had to leave paradise? It wasn’t a huge surprise. I had known it would only be a matter of time before the blonde ogre needed my assistance. She probably saw a spider, and to kill it with her own delicate hands would be a sacrilege.

Having lost level thirty-nine, I wasn’t adamant about greeting her with a cheerful demeanor and helping attitude. I cleared the screen of any open apps and shoved it in the back pocket of my jeans, stomping out of the storage room like a child amidst a temper tantrum.

As I entered the camp store, I noticed someone looming over the counter, speaking to Alex quite animatedly, waving his arms to and fro.

Fearing that she may have angered a customer, I quickly strode toward the two of them, preparing to perform significant damage control. However, growing closer to the conversation, it became apparent that he wasn’t angry in the least.

They were flirting.

Well, I think it was more than flirting.  Alex was offering herself to him on a silver platter.

I didn’t want to be caught peeping on their intimate display. The nearest aisle of shelving units provided an ultimate cover. I took their animalistic mating rituals as an opportunity to hide in the shadows and possibly gather some tips on how to speak to boys.

I’m not what one would call classically beautiful. Ivory-white skin and natural hair may have been all the rage before the twentieth century, but in the twenty-first, it’s just sad. My small, upturned nose, petite frame, and quiet voice gave the impression I belonged in the library. The horn-rimmed glasses that covered almost my entire face topped the geek chic look like an ugly cherry.

Throughout my years at elementary, I had become painfully shy. Unable to ask a teacher to use the restroom, let alone converse with my peers. Something happened in Middle school; however, that finally broke me. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment, but the rage building inside me all those years unleashed upon the masses. Walls that no one could tear down developed my unique coping mechanism. My blunt humor and sarcastic tone didn’t earn me many friends and certainly not a boyfriend in my six years at that Hell Hole.

If anything, I repelled almost everyone.

So, maybe working with Alex this summer—watching her work her magic on members of the male population—could help me.

There was the hair flip again. She was going to break her neck if she kept doing that. I should be so lucky.

I shook my head in disbelief. Alex’s peacocking was foolproof. The boy reached his hand to the countertop and rested it atop hers.

Well, I’ll be damned! It worked. Her ditsy behavior actually worked.

Before I subjected myself to witnessing their little game of tonsil hockey, I chose to maneuver around the lovebirds and escape back to my closet of solitude. The shoelaces on my red Converse sneakers, however, had other plans.

As I was pivoting in the opposite direction, the aglet had caught between the metal hinge holding the shelves together. Suddenly I lost my balance.

Panicking, I grabbed anything to help steady myself, but all it could find were easily collapsible cans of pie filling. Like a domino effect, every single one of them toppled over with me onto the wood floor below. An explosion of sticky wetness splattered in orifices I never knew I had, doing a stand-up job of filling my nose and making it difficult to breathe.

A few more shots to my chest and legs accompanied by a massive bang forced a shriek from my throat.

I knew what it was from the smell immediately. I was lying on the ground coated from head to toe in blueberry, cherry, and apple.

Multiple footfalls rushed toward me. Already feeling mortified, I covered my eyes with my forearm in an attempt to shield any embarrassment that would no doubt linger for weeks on end.

Oh, my God! Oh my God, this is so perfect! Alex’s horrid, shrill of excitement pierced my eardrums.

Are you ok, miss?

That voice?

I know that voice. Its familiarity with warm, silk sheets and chocolate-covered treats dripping with promises of delectable sin. My brain suffered a bit of a shake from the fall, but I identified with that bravado.

The sound of a phone camera clicking rebounded through the rafters of the cathedral ceiling. It echoed throughout the store as if plugged into high-definition speakers and cranked up to the highest volume.

Alex bleated on, Wait till the whole class sees this!

I hate this girl. I hated her with every fiber of my being. If her hairspray finally caught fire, I’d take the time to admire the beauty of the orange flames before grabbing a stick and roasting marshmallows.

This is going on Instagram. Little Blisster finally ‘filling’ out. Oh my God, you’re going viral! She jumped up and down with glee, causing her barely-there top to rise up her trim stomach. The hot sting of tears dripped the truth that I was allowing her to win. I had given up before she even began her tirade. But at that moment I didn’t care. All I could concentrate on was another nickname tacked onto my already long list. All because of Alex. Always because of Alex.

The witch’s cackles were abruptly cut short. Would you shut up? The booming command of the stranger sent chills straight through my spine. Can’t you see she’s hurt?

For the first time in her life, Alex obeyed. She shut up—her mouth slack, jaw wide open, catching flies while she focused on the man in disbelief. My favorite part was that after devoting all his attention to her only moments ago, now he wouldn’t give her a second glance.

Stranger-1, Alex-0.

Are you alright, Miss? He bent toward me, his hand extended.

Alex huffed in annoyance and loudly stomped back to her position at the cashier’s counter, picking up her nail file and violently scraping away at her fingers.

Well, gee, don’t worry about me, doll. I’ll be fine lying on my back covered in pie!

Even though I would have loved to savor the moment of retribution on Alex Perry, something else was a bit more critical. Like how the man standing in front of me was identical to the serial killer in my dreams.

He was staring at me.

Eyes the color of onyx delved into my soul, searching my green depths, trying to find some recognition between the two of us. Hardship and misery swam aplenty, hints of animosity sprinkled in too. A slow heat crept up my neck, lavishing my cheeks with a crimson tint to rival the fullest rose.

My fingers slid slowly into his awaiting palm with the tiniest jolt of electricity.

Sorry. I blushed as I gathered my wits.

His inky black eyebrow creased and rose as a singular, silver lip ring disappeared between his full lips.

He really was beautiful. So beautiful that my breath hitched as the ring popped back out and settled. Five o’clock stubble traced a powerful jaw. Biceps that would make Jason Momoa melt like a schoolgirl, bulging as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels to appear sophisticated; nonchalant. My heart fluttered in my chest.

It’s ok, his velvet voice reassured. You didn’t mean to.

I caught myself staring at his full lips again as my tongue darted out to lick my own.

Mm, cherry.

Come on, Stowe! You’re not going to turn into a brainless pile of mush just because a complete Adonis is talking to you!

I scrambled to stand, trying not to resemble a newborn deer just after birth.

After a long and painfully awkward silence, I finally bucked up the courage to ask, Do I know you?

His head shook in disagreement.

He was lying—had to be. People don’t just dream up random faces every night since they were two—especially not one as good looking as his.

A heaping dollop of blueberry filling fell from the corner of my forehead and dropped onto the ground with a loud splat. Crimson heat crept up my neck once more, painting my cheeks in its wake. Blushing any more might cause the tomatoes in aisle three to grow jealous of my magnificent coloring.

The Cupid’s bow grin he produced only provided fuel to the fire inside me. I grabbed a rag lying on the cashier’s counter behind me and began wiping down the counter just to keep busy. A very distinct feminine scoff echoed in the background. I forgot Alex was still here. Everyone on the planet ceased to exist in his presence.

Ignoring everything to my left, I stuck my hand out and introduced myself. My name’s Bliss, by the way. Thank you for sticking up for me. It was very kind.

He gave me an incredulous look, dubbing me the Queen of Idiocy. For a moment, I had forgotten about the bolt of lightning I bestowed upon his innocent hand just seconds ago.

 Sorry, I whispered, tucking it back in my pocket.

You say that a lot, don’t you? He asked with a wicked smirk.

I know, I’m sorry…

I covered my mouth to keep any more unnecessary apologies from slipping out. My embarrassment was reaching critical mass. If I didn’t shut my mouth right now, I would end up telling him something truly agonizing both of us could live without. But before I could curve the conversation and ask for his name, two other men similar in age to the one in front of me walked in.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Alex preening herself for the new arrivals, tugging her V-neck t-shirt down, raising her cleavage, and almost spilling it out of the overstretched opening. I rolled my eyes and directed my attention elsewhere. I didn’t want to give her an audience.

A man with a voluptuous mane the color of hay strolled up to my hero and patted him on the back.

I see you’ve met some of the locals. The cute ones, anyway. He winked at me. Hi, I’m Wheeler.

A thick, blond beard shadowed the boyish charm lighting up his complex features. His highly contagious smile spread from ear to ear. Before I could catch myself, I felt my lips pull in the same direction. Shocking golden eyes proved a focal point against his flawless complexion. They panned between myself and the boy-without-a-name curiously.

 Bliss, I started again.

Wow, what a name! I think I’m in love! A pleasure to meet you, Miss Bliss. You know, King finds all the pretty girls. He praised. I watched the guy I made an unforgettable impression on scowl at his friend.

I don’t think I was supposed to know about his charming ways. Like I hadn’t known before? If he acted half as courteous with all girls, I wouldn’t blame them for falling at his feet.

Yup, such a babe magnet. Any town we visit, they sniff King out like bloodhounds.

Are you kidding me? King had had enough and finally spoke up. A hard punch followed the interruption to Wheeler’s arm with a bit more force than necessary.

Wheeler smirked and rubbed his barely wounded shoulder. He reached down and grabbed an exploded can from the floor and tossed it from hand to hand.

A clearing throat brought me to peer toward the door. Their friend—who seemed to carry a permanent scowl—took a step forward and bowed—bowed! The only time I’ve ever seen a man bow was in movies. And I don’t think this bloke meant it in the same way Mr. Darcy bowed to Elizabeth Bennett. But who was I to judge? Mr. Darcy happened to be my permanent book boyfriend. With skin a shade shy of hazelnut, he didn’t look anything like I pictured the great Englishman, but I could make an exception.

You can call me Sam, Lass, he directed at me with a very sexy Gaelic brogue.

And there’s this idiot, Wheeler pointed at Sam and chuckled. We’re a bunch of misfits, but at least we are adorable. He brought his hands up under his furry chin and innocently batted his eyelashes.

Bliss Margret Stowe!

Oh, God!

Grace Stowe, mother to yours truly, darkened the center aisle right in front of a smirking Alex. Embarrassment enveloped me, and nothing yet had happened. A precursor to the doom, I suppose.

She looked furious.

Well, it was nice meeting you guys. I tried to usher them out quickly. The last thing I wanted them to see was me getting chewed out and spit into pieces. I have to go see what that lady wants. Thanks again for helping me. I directed at King.

Why my mom was in the store to begin with was beyond me. After the UPS truck incident and her freshly broken ankle, my dad has been trying to keep her in the house. Her stubborn need to control just about everything always won out. Which meant she had her own reasons to be here. What those reasons were, well, I was about to find out.

I turned to walk back to the service counter but halted when a warm palm placed itself upon my shoulder. The butterflies swarming my stomach informed me it was most likely King, but I didn’t have much time to dwell on it as the pressure disappeared.

A deep chill burrowed beneath my skin.

Will I see you again? His deep, familiar timber asked.

His question shot like an arrow, piercing my heart, and almost drove me to my knees.

I didn’t understand my instant attraction to King. He was just another boy in a world full of them—one fish in a sea of millions. I didn’t know him from Adam, but the emotions coursing through me demanded I never lived without him. That it would tear me in two if we parted.

I’m not sure, I replied honestly. I’m pretty busy.

Oh.

His mouth fell into a pout.

Enjoy your time here in Cheboygan. The food’s great and the people are even better. Make sure to visit the river down front. I continued, forcing a smile and pointing out the door. I hoped they didn’t notice.

It’s beautiful this time of year.

Come on, King. We’ve got to go. We have that thing we have to do. Remember? Wheeler added. He was being a good friend and keeping him from making a fool of himself. He gripped King’s elbow and tugged him toward the exit.

Who were they? My mom prodded as she hobbled up to greet me, a scowl lining her thin lips.

Oh, nobody important.

She turned to me, crossing her arms in a huff. Hm, if you say so. Now, about that Tupperware full of mini cheesecakes you devoured. Those were for my garden party on Tuesday, Bliss, and…

I tuned out her chide. I was too busy watching the three strolling past the big picture window, light-heartedly pushing and shoving one another in mocking ridicule. King turned to look at me one final time before disappearing from view; a wink was all he left me to remember him.

This wouldn’t be our last meeting. Not even close. Something big was about to happen. I could feel it in my bones—something catastrophic and uncontrollable and reckless, inevitably obliterating my life and everyone in it.

***

             Help!

A remote cry threaded through a chilled breeze, piercing the dream state I fell into only moments ago.  

Just shy of thirty minutes before, I had trudged up the stairs to my bedroom after a filling meal of steak and potatoes. But this wasn’t the four violet walls plastered with pictures of Jensen Ackles and Henry Cavil.  Jagged, sharp rocks dug their way into the bottoms of my bare feet, bruises, and scrapes covering my skin from head to toe. The thick air permeated with the stench of rotting fish and lake water. Glowing lights reflected from the Mackinac Bridge before me.

Spanning a whopping three thousand, eight hundred feet, the Mighty Mac is the largest suspension bridge in the North and South American continents. Waves crashed against the anchors as mist spritzed across my cheeks, completely soaking through the black Team Jacob t-shirt I adorned. Behind me were the painted blue posts of Colonial Fort Michilimackinac. 

An iron fence barricaded the property to keep out any unwanted nightly visitors. It’s bolted shut every night, which meant I was trespassing. There was a law that no one was allowed in the park without the staff nearby because of the undertow's dangers.

Scanning the perimeter to find the screamer was useless. I could hardly see a thing past the white caps violently sweeping the shoreline. Clouds shaded the moon in just the right way that cast a silver beam straight to the island.

Another agonizing shout came from my immediate right, the same direction as the bridge. I crouched below a nearby bush to hide my location and strained to see or hear anything that was happening.

Another scream came from a few hundred yards away. Someone, help me, please! Help! The last of the victim’s words coming out only as strangled gasps.

Hello? I called out, not sure if I wanted someone to hear me or not.

I waited and waited and waited for someone to holler back to my question. I was desperate to be met with anything but what I received was radio silence. Static airwaves were dancing in the moonlight to no other tune, but it's own. My heart pounded hard in my chest, nerves cranked up on high wondering, praying I wasn’t too late.

Suddenly, two strikingly different silhouettes emerged on top of the south tower, teetering dangerously close to the edge. Like a camera lens zooming in on a B-rated science-fiction actor, my eyes performed an act not deemed fit in the natural world. I could see the details down to each follicle of hair on the victim’s arm from where I stood. Commonly known as an adrenaline rush, I wrote the odd phenomena that defied every law of physics off as just that. Just an everyday, run-of-the-mill adrenaline rush.

I wasn’t ready to deal with what it might have been otherwise.

I blinked the bad thoughts away and watched the attacker force his victim to the edge of the railing by her throat, suspended over the five hundred and fifty-two-foot drop to the cold waters below. Cars zoomed under the two towers at an alarming rate. Seemingly unaware of the suspicious activity going on above their heads. Hovering over the girl with impressive stature was a man. He was covered from head to toe in dark jeans, a black, unidentifiable sweatshirt, and the hood drawn over his face, a bandana concealing everything but his eyes. Soulless onyx peeked from beneath.

Oversized hands bruised the slender neck of a girl that just hours ago, I would have done anything to shove off the very same bridge, myself.

Alex.

She kicked and twisted and struggled as the hooded figure drug her to the very cusp of the guard rail. Her face contorted in pain and terror in the fluorescent red warning lights as they sporadically flashed.

A sickening gurgle of saliva bubbled from her throat. She was dying. No matter if he threw her over the edge or not, she was dying in his arms. From his bare hands. The tips of her toes balanced a fine line between the steel and nothingness. Tears stained the lines of dirt littering her face and never stopped coming.

My cheeks warmed against the cool breeze. I hadn’t noticed I began to tear up as well until I skimmed their rosy heat, finding wetness dripping from my fingertips while I stared. Distracting me for a short moment from the chaotic scene above.

Alex pleaded for her life until the very end.

In his calm state, he uttered, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but it’s your time. I’m just following orders.

With minimal warning, the man launched her from his grasp towards the quick-moving current below. I covered my mouth to muffle the scream escaping my throat as I watched my classmate fall to her death. The wind whipped around her nightdress, the material floating gracefully above her, making it hard to see the difference between the fabric and her arms flailing in panic.

Her tangled hair flopping in the breeze made it impossible to see her face one last time. Which I wasn’t sure if I wanted to out of spite or needed to just to prove to myself that I carried emotions for her other than disgust and hatred fueled by words.

Alex’s body finally hit the water with a sickening crunch. Even from the shore, I could hear the horror as her head cracked open upon impact. The small circle of water surrounding the body growing large with a crimson tint.

I woke up with a start, clutching my lavender comforter in a death grip to rival all. Sweat poured from my skin, and the sheets clung to me like a boa constrictor. With shaking fingers, I raked my hand through my hair, still coated in stickiness from the events earlier in the day. No matter how many times I scrubbed, I couldn’t remove the humiliation. My chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath from the nightmare.

It wasn’t the first time I had dreamt of someone dying. It wasn’t even the first time I knew them personally. But it was the first time I recognized the killer’s eyes.

Irises black as pitch with a strange blue burst near the cornea had my heart beating eighty miles per minute. The way his voice carried a deep timber, shattering me into a million pieces when King murdered the girl who left nothing but scars.

When he threw her into Lake Michigan with a great smile on his face.

Two

So tell me again why you’ve forced me to join you on this torrid adventure?

I rolled my eyes at the boy in the passenger’s seat. Roman had always been a drama king.

Take the first day we met, for example. Third grade was peak time for a girl to discover and build new friendships with the new kid in town—everyone except Bliss, the Oddball. He made me so nervous that I twisted silently in my seat long enough to create a small hole in the back of my brand new, hot pink Hello Kitty tights. I threw my hands in rapture when the bell rang, and the teacher excused us.

With only the company of my bologna sandwich, I chose to indulge a bit earlier than lunch. A lovely, secluded swing called my name where I could watch all the other kids playing in peace.

Two small boys were lording over the monkey bars. One swung from rung to rung with ease as the other attempted to follow. It had rained earlier that morning, making the metal slippery and difficult to grip, and thus, the smaller, uncoordinated boy fell. It was only a foot from the playground equipment's tip-top to the hardened, stomped-on sand below. But that boy wailed like his arm had been cut off and fed to wolves.

 Feeling sorry for him, I trekked over, sandwich in hand, and brushed the remaining sand from his shoulder.

There, there, I soothed. It’ll be alright. Here, take this. It’ll make you feel better. I handed him my bologna on white and gave him my biggest smile.

And what does the little brat do? He threw my delicious offering in the dirt! So, of course, I had no choice but to punch the kid. I mean, come on! He just killed my snack! Nobody disrespects food and gets away with it.

My parents had caught wind of the playground brawl and forced me to write an apology to Roman, stating that I hadn’t meant to be so rude.

That was the equivalent of nailing pudding to a tree. I didn’t believe I was in the wrong, and yet neither did Roman for his retaliation.

I can’t remember how we buried the hatchet and became best friends, but since the day my fist connected with his face, we became inseparable.

Complain some more, Roman, and I swear I will drop you off on the side of the road.

Promise?

I looked over to see the perfect ‘cat ate the canary’ grin on his stupid face.

Roman was a ladies man, and it wasn’t hard to see why. When puberty smacked us both upside the head in seventh grade, he came out all shiny and gorgeous. I did not.

I didn't talk to him for a whole week after returning to my house looking like a young Ryan Reynolds. If I could have gotten away with punching him again instead of slamming the door in his face, I would have taken advantage. Being that he had grown half a foot and acquired muscle definition overnight, I doubt it would have ended well for me.

It still boils my blood thinking about it. How dare he become dreamy when I looked like a mountain troll?

I told you when I picked you up what I was doing. Don’t act like you couldn’t say no. I gave you plenty of time to change your mind.

"I just don’t understand why we have to go all the way to Mackinac Island for you to get some stupid book."

My breath hitched from his blatant disregard of a masterpiece. One: I held up my index finger. "It’s not some stupid book. But I would never presume to believe you would grasp the great, historical, and riveting existence of an original Wuthering Heights. Not the dumb movies Hollywood blasphemously botched. And two: It’s not like I’m dragging you states away. We’re already in Mackinaw City, Rome. Take a chill pill."

I watched him cross his arms and shake his head in disapproval. He knew how much of a nerd I was, and I knew he was putting on a show. Roman couldn’t care less if I wanted to drive to Texas just as long as he was along for the ride.

The large green, red, and white sign up ahead pulled my attention back to the road. I flipped my turn signal on and maneuvered my old 1994 Buick LeSabre—colorfully nicknamed the BIC due to an unfortunate mishap with a brick wall and the brand decal—into the Arnold Line parking lot.

I was surprised to see as many cars parked this early in the season.

You better make me the biggest freaking cheesecake known to man. He grumbled at me as he exited the car. I’m talking record-holding Blissy.

Ignoring the awful dig to my name, I began to bake the cheesecake I blackmailed him within my head. He couldn’t come just because he was worried about my safety; me meeting some random guy on a side street near Ryba’s ice cream shop for a first edition Bronte. Nope, I had to bribe him with sweets. Luckily, Roman’s weakness is his sweet tooth, and I happen to love baking.

The line moved blindly forward as we chatted. It only took a couple of minutes to finally settle in our seats on the ferry before Roman’s eyes closed. In the very relaxed pose he sported, I was expecting it. The waves' calming motion on a sunny day is equivalent to dosing yourself with a highly concentrated sleeping pill.

Watching the people bustling about the cabin, seeing their reactions, whether it be the first time riding or their fiftieth, was my favorite part.

A small girl with wild, wind-swept hair came running down the stairs and up the aisle, her hand grazing my shoulder as she passed. An older woman with exhaustion seeping from every pore chased after the little heathen.

Just inches from entering the captain’s quarters, the girl’s arm was snatched and pulled, forcing her to stand at the side of the woman I assume to be her mother. She silently scolded the child, trying not to draw attention to herself. I grinned as the child’s arrogant attitude shined in the form of eye-rolling at her mother’s berating.

That’s my kind of girl!

My ears perked with giggles coming from somewhere in the back. I swiveled in the bucket seat just enough to catch two young adults kissing in the corner. Like a magnet drawn, I was mesmerized by the couple’s vast happiness. Their affections displayed weren’t overtly sexual. Not in the least. They were just enough to signify his presence in her life. I spied a brand new piece of shiny jewelry gleaming from a significant finger.

No wonder they were all over each other. The two were engaged!

I began imagining how he proposed. Perhaps he performed his nervous deed on the steps of the Grand Hotel staircase? Or better yet, in the garden, hidden in their world by freshly cut flowers and overgrown shrubbery. Dripping bullets of sweat as he reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out the giant rock signifying their life together.

Or maybe he did it on horseback. Tucked away on some secluded trail as they trotted