i) Thanks to Phenyx, leochick, ICD, mfkngst, winnievbt, Michelle, and QueenTrione for reviewing the last chapter. Big thanks to everyone who's left a review for this story, I know I say this every time but it's good to hear that people are enjoying your work and that you've been able to capture their interest.
ii) This is the last part; you would have had it sooner but I've had a somewhat trying time at work recently (oh to be independently wealthy). I'm going to leave the door slightly ajar on this - I may come back to it later...
Epilogue
It took a couple of rings of the phone to break through his concentration, one more for him to set to one side the object of his attention and pick up the receiver. Not too long ago he'd have literally dropped everything immediately in his haste to answer the call; yet too many times he had done such a thing only to be disappointed by the voice at the other end of the line. It was for similar reasons that he no longer rushed to open the morning's mail either. "This is Sydney." He spoke his usual greeting with no expectations which made the response, when it came, all the sweeter.
"Hello Syd," a warm voice replied.
He took in a sharp breath, "Miss Parker!" He couldn't stop a smile from spreading across his face as a sense of relief washed over him. It had been too long since he'd heard her voice; he'd missed his young colleague immensely since he'd left her at the hospital. He'd been reluctant to leave her, to leave either of them. She'd had such a rollercoaster ride of a day, had searched her soul, had faced her feelings and he was glad that he'd been there for her. Glad she'd allowed him to be there for her. But he'd had to leave, had felt it was important to cover their tracks as soon as possible.
"How are you Miss Parker?" He couldn't hide the joy from his voice. When she had not contacted him immediately he'd taken it as a good sign; he felt that if she had not been able to 'reconnect' with Jarod, and he believed there was only a very small chance of that happening, she'd have called straight away. However after a month or so had passed without word his concern had grown - to the point that he'd cajoled Broots into checking Centre records to make sure it was not an enforced silence. Broots' extensive delves into the mainframe had turned up nothing other than Raines' distaste at her desertion, a point of view the chairman expressed incessantly, his anger never waning. So Sydney chose to believe that there were other, less nefarious, reasons for the lack of communications, and had let his expectations of contact dwindle accordingly. But he still worried.
"I'm good," she replied. It didn't matter that he couldn't see her face, he didn't need to - he could hear the smile that lay there and it was a million miles away from the last time he'd spoken to her.
He drew his head down, his free hand cupping his mouth in a vain attempt to shield the conversation. He glanced around his office, at the files and the books, knowing full well the likelihood that the eyes and ears of The Centre were already onto him was high. They'd been watching him since he'd returned without Miss Parker, closer than they ever had. Lyle in particular, initially pissed that he'd let them slip through his fingers to begin with, scrutinised him constantly, always insinuating that he knew Sydney had something to do with Parker's disappearance but never actually able to prove anything.
There'd been rumours regarding Miss Parker's absence; Broots had kept him appraised of the underground gossip - most of it akin to the content of tabloid trash. Yet no one made the connection to the missing pretender, such was her apparent hatred for him, but he did wonder if he was really the only one who'd seen through that act, who had suspected there was more to it. Broots' disbelief on hearing the news was more likely to be attributable to his own feelings towards Miss Parker, it was Lyle and Raines who concerned him most. Jarod, on the other hand, had been off The Centre's radar for long enough for most employees to speculate he was finally tired of the chase - or was dead. Sydney saw no reason to comment on such rumours, setting only Broots straight on a few facts.
He sat back in his chair, convinced the conversation was already being recorded in some dark recess of The Centre and that there was little he could do to prevent that, and took on an almost relaxed manner, enjoying the moment just a little too much. "Raines was not happy with your vanishing act."
"I don't care Syd."
He grinned again at her response, that spark he had always knew existed was now gleaming. "Freedom seems to suit you Miss Parker. How does it feel?" He wanted to ask other questions; where she was, how was Jarod, how were they getting on together. But of course he couldn't. Instead he listened intently to her responses, hoping to pick up some answers that way.
"It feels..." there was a pause, as if she was searching for the appropriate adjective, the right phrase. "It feels wonderful," she eventually said, adding, "You should try it some time." Her voice lost some of its levity in that last sentence.
"It's too late for me," he replied evenly, intrigued by the change to her tone. Thoughts of leaving had crossed his mind, more frequently than ever since she'd gone, but he still had some other souls to look out for. And being at The Centre was his best connection to both her and Jarod, they could always find him there.
There was a shorter pause, "It's never too late, Sydney."
Again her voice was missing its earlier lightness. It was a subtle change, one he hoped those listening in would not pick up on. But what was she trying to tell him. He didn't have the chance to question her further, not that she'd have been able to tell him directly anyway, as she'd hung up on him, the dial tone now burning into his ear. Hadn't even said goodbye, not unlike how Jarod ended his calls. He smiled at that thought, the receiver still in his hand, for a moment longer than he suspected he should have. He put down the phone, wiping his face of all emotion. The inquisition would arrive shortly and he would need to employ, once more, the neutral expression that had seen him through for so long.
She slipped the phone into her pocket, staring ahead at Jarod. He stood on the other side of the road, the only adult in line for an ice cream. She had kept her focus on him for the duration of her conversation with Sydney, he had turned around every now and then to throw her a reassuring grin that had kept her on track - she wanted to tell Syd everything. She felt she needed to explain her silence, to thank him for everything he'd done but she couldn't, she knew that. Even with freedom there were still secrets to be kept. She had meant to call him sooner, to keep her promise to him, but she'd been distracted.
To look at Jarod now it was hard to believe that she'd come so close to losing him. The break in his leg had been clean, six weeks in a cast had been sufficient time to heal. He'd made a good recovery overall, the doctors had been pleased with his progress and her fears had proved unfounded. They'd kept him in the hospital as a precaution; he'd sustained a fractured skull and they were concerned that he'd been unconscious at one point. She'd spent that first night with him, reluctant to let go of someone she had only just found. The next morning, aching all over after spending the night dozing on a hard chair, she'd returned to the hotel she'd checked into less than twenty four hours before, glad that she had at least one change of clothes. There was no sign of Sydney, the clerk had told her he'd checked out the day before, and a brief flutter of panic had risen in her; she was walking down an unfamiliar path but she returned to the hospital, quashing such thoughts. That night Jarod had insisted she go back to the hotel and she didn't refuse.
Jarod had discharged himself on the third day, against his doctor's wishes, frustrated by his lack of mobility and loss of independence Now in her care Parker found that she was no Florence Nightingale, but it didn't matter as Jarod was not an ideal patient either. He constantly disobeyed the doctor's, and her own, orders to rest and she found the best way to keep him still was to talk. He'd asked her, that first night as they had laid sprawled on her hotel bed, having had no time to make alternative arrangements, about her life: the years after she'd disappeared from his life and before she'd started chasing him. She'd always assumed he'd known more than he should have about her past exploits, his endless probing into her past had annoyed her often enough, but he had listened enthralled, as if every word was being heard for the first time. In return he told her about the pretends The Centre never discovered, about the people he had met. That he'd come back to Scotland on a tip about his mother only to find he'd been about a month too late.
His incapacity kept them in Scotland for some time; they continued that cosy existence, renting a small house on the outskirts of the city, talking, watching bad t.v. and rekindling their friendship. The late night talks that had peppered the chase continued, and in the same manner; with no possibility of anyone listening in and admissions of their feelings now ousted they still skirted around their attraction, an unspoken agreement between them to tread carefully. She had found her own apprehension strange, as this was never something she'd shied away from. She'd taken to jogging daily, leaving Jarod propped up at his laptop, initially to quell the doubts that greeted her every morning; she dealt with the changes her own way, Jarod his. Until one day she came to the realisation that it wasn't about her attraction to him – it was something deeper - admitting her feelings for him had been the easy part, acting upon them brought a whole new realm of possibilities. And with this realisation had come a wave of certainty. As her own apprehension started to fade the jogging became a way to deal with her growing frustration at being so close to Jarod yet never close enough. Jarod was taking longer to come to the same conclusions, something that amazed her as she had always been the reluctant one. She was never known for her patience but she ended up surprising herself; they would kiss, snuggle together, talk intimately - she could wait.
Ice cream paid for, he made his way back to her. They were currently staying in a once popular coastal town that had, quite frankly, seen better days; the old Miss Parker would have wrinkled her nose in disgust, yet she didn't care - The Centre were still unaware as to their location and that was all that mattered. The sun still shone down with some intensity, even though it was after six o'clock, bathing Jarod in a golden light. He edged toward the road, casting her a mischievous grin as he did so before quickly diverting his movements towards the pedestrian crossing instead. She shook her head, smiling to herself as she tracked his graceful movements.
One night, not long after he'd discharged himself from the hospital and the first night out of the hotel, they'd talked about that day once more, the day she'd had her 'epithany'. He had suggested it was all her fault that the car had hit him, a wry grin on his face. She'd momentarily felt a stab of pain at that thought, his words unintentionally hurting her. He'd noticed the change to her demeanour and had quickly added that it was because he couldn't stop staring at her; that it had been too long since he'd seen her that everything else seemed somehow less important. He'd been sprawled across the sofa, one of the few pieces of furniture included with the house, his leg propped up, and his honesty had once more touched her to the core. She'd quickly leant across from the other side to kiss him.
"Finally learnt how to cross the road eh, genius?" she drawled as he approached her, ice cream in one hand already half eaten. The sun shone on his face, she could feel the dwindling warmth at her back, and hear the rhythmic, calming, motions of the sea behind her. Just as she'd told Syd, freedom felt wonderful to her. She tried to recall exactly why she had fought this for so long but the reasons eluded her, long since forgotten. There was only one obstacle in their path, and it was a sizeable one at that.
"I'm a quick study," he grinned, taking another bite of his ice cream, almost finishing it off. "Did you tell him?" he asked casually after swallowing.
"In a roundabout way," she replied. Once Jarod's cast had been removed, they'd left the little house that had become their home. Jarod had become increasingly restless staying in one spot. She had tried her best to diffuse some of his fears, arguing that The Centre would have found them already if Sydney had failed to deter them, but she couldn't fight years of instinct. And, at the back of her mind, she was worried too: The Centre had a knack of removing the people she loved from her life. With funds diverted from her ex employers they had hired a car and headed South, Parker driving and Jarod navigating, after a couple of days of stopping regularly when Jarod had diverted her to yet another must see attraction, they had ended up in the Lake District - an area of natural beauty in the North of England that attracted a wealth of visitors annually. She took it all in her stride and enjoyed herself; she rarely had time to stop and appreciate the world around her and through Jarod's eyes it apppeared infinitely better than she remembered. They'd blended in with other tourists drawn by the unusually warm weather. It was there, on a boat tour around Lake Windermere, that Jarod had proposed 'dealing with The Centre once and for all'. She'd readily acquiesced. Jarod had several ideas on how to do this, thoughts he'd toyed with since his escape but it was only with Parker's input that they'd come up with their 'masterplan'. A way to ensure their freedom.
He nodded slowly, a faint smile now gracing his lips. "So Mrs Dawson, are you ready?" he asked seriously.
She smiled easily, nodding her head and gazing into his twinkling eyes. They'd used other pseudonyms on their journey but 'Dawson' had stuck, becoming a kind of in joke between the two of them. There had been a moment of confusion at the hospital when the nurse had addressed them as such, Parker having forgotten to relate this small fact to Jarod in favour of other, more pressing, matters. And he'd laughed once the nurse had left - no doubt putting Jarod's confusion down to the accident - when she'd confessed that when asked for a name she'd settled for one displayed on a shop sign in the distance.
"We start tomorrow," she confirmed, not willing to start worrying about the possible fall out just yet. She closed what little gap remained between them, her hands running up the front of his t-shirt and meeting behind his neck. "I have plans for you tonight," she said seductively as her lips searched for his. It was a sweet kiss, all the more for the ice cream she could taste on his lips. He held one arm out to the side, ice cream clasped in his hand, the other snaked around her hips, resting on the small of her back. As the kiss deepened he tossed what remained of his snack to one side - Miss Parker easily winning the battle for his attention - a flock of seagulls cleaning up his litter in a matter of seconds, and he brought his now free hand to join its opposite.
They'd become lovers at the Lakes. The moment they had started moving Jarod had visibly relaxed, and in letting down his guard in that respect his remaining hesitancy seemed to diminish as well. In some respects she wondered if he had not planned at least some of the events whilst they were still in Scotland: Jarod had rented a house overlooking the Lakes with ease considering the busy time of the year. She'd stared out of the huge bay window that first night, the sun low in the sky and bathing the view in an orange glow. Jarod had stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her stomach and his chin resting on her shoulder. She'd caught his eyes in the faint reflection bestowed on the window by a small lamp in the corner of the room; his gaze lay on her not the vista ahead of them and their unspoken agreement was broken.
Reluctantly pulling apart he gazed into her eyes, hands now resting on her hips. "I love it when you have plans for me." Two seagulls remained near them, fighting over the last remains of Jarod's ice cream; they only parted when Jarod and Parker began to walk their way, hands clasped together, heading for their hotel.
ii) This is the last part; you would have had it sooner but I've had a somewhat trying time at work recently (oh to be independently wealthy). I'm going to leave the door slightly ajar on this - I may come back to it later...
Epilogue
It took a couple of rings of the phone to break through his concentration, one more for him to set to one side the object of his attention and pick up the receiver. Not too long ago he'd have literally dropped everything immediately in his haste to answer the call; yet too many times he had done such a thing only to be disappointed by the voice at the other end of the line. It was for similar reasons that he no longer rushed to open the morning's mail either. "This is Sydney." He spoke his usual greeting with no expectations which made the response, when it came, all the sweeter.
"Hello Syd," a warm voice replied.
He took in a sharp breath, "Miss Parker!" He couldn't stop a smile from spreading across his face as a sense of relief washed over him. It had been too long since he'd heard her voice; he'd missed his young colleague immensely since he'd left her at the hospital. He'd been reluctant to leave her, to leave either of them. She'd had such a rollercoaster ride of a day, had searched her soul, had faced her feelings and he was glad that he'd been there for her. Glad she'd allowed him to be there for her. But he'd had to leave, had felt it was important to cover their tracks as soon as possible.
"How are you Miss Parker?" He couldn't hide the joy from his voice. When she had not contacted him immediately he'd taken it as a good sign; he felt that if she had not been able to 'reconnect' with Jarod, and he believed there was only a very small chance of that happening, she'd have called straight away. However after a month or so had passed without word his concern had grown - to the point that he'd cajoled Broots into checking Centre records to make sure it was not an enforced silence. Broots' extensive delves into the mainframe had turned up nothing other than Raines' distaste at her desertion, a point of view the chairman expressed incessantly, his anger never waning. So Sydney chose to believe that there were other, less nefarious, reasons for the lack of communications, and had let his expectations of contact dwindle accordingly. But he still worried.
"I'm good," she replied. It didn't matter that he couldn't see her face, he didn't need to - he could hear the smile that lay there and it was a million miles away from the last time he'd spoken to her.
He drew his head down, his free hand cupping his mouth in a vain attempt to shield the conversation. He glanced around his office, at the files and the books, knowing full well the likelihood that the eyes and ears of The Centre were already onto him was high. They'd been watching him since he'd returned without Miss Parker, closer than they ever had. Lyle in particular, initially pissed that he'd let them slip through his fingers to begin with, scrutinised him constantly, always insinuating that he knew Sydney had something to do with Parker's disappearance but never actually able to prove anything.
There'd been rumours regarding Miss Parker's absence; Broots had kept him appraised of the underground gossip - most of it akin to the content of tabloid trash. Yet no one made the connection to the missing pretender, such was her apparent hatred for him, but he did wonder if he was really the only one who'd seen through that act, who had suspected there was more to it. Broots' disbelief on hearing the news was more likely to be attributable to his own feelings towards Miss Parker, it was Lyle and Raines who concerned him most. Jarod, on the other hand, had been off The Centre's radar for long enough for most employees to speculate he was finally tired of the chase - or was dead. Sydney saw no reason to comment on such rumours, setting only Broots straight on a few facts.
He sat back in his chair, convinced the conversation was already being recorded in some dark recess of The Centre and that there was little he could do to prevent that, and took on an almost relaxed manner, enjoying the moment just a little too much. "Raines was not happy with your vanishing act."
"I don't care Syd."
He grinned again at her response, that spark he had always knew existed was now gleaming. "Freedom seems to suit you Miss Parker. How does it feel?" He wanted to ask other questions; where she was, how was Jarod, how were they getting on together. But of course he couldn't. Instead he listened intently to her responses, hoping to pick up some answers that way.
"It feels..." there was a pause, as if she was searching for the appropriate adjective, the right phrase. "It feels wonderful," she eventually said, adding, "You should try it some time." Her voice lost some of its levity in that last sentence.
"It's too late for me," he replied evenly, intrigued by the change to her tone. Thoughts of leaving had crossed his mind, more frequently than ever since she'd gone, but he still had some other souls to look out for. And being at The Centre was his best connection to both her and Jarod, they could always find him there.
There was a shorter pause, "It's never too late, Sydney."
Again her voice was missing its earlier lightness. It was a subtle change, one he hoped those listening in would not pick up on. But what was she trying to tell him. He didn't have the chance to question her further, not that she'd have been able to tell him directly anyway, as she'd hung up on him, the dial tone now burning into his ear. Hadn't even said goodbye, not unlike how Jarod ended his calls. He smiled at that thought, the receiver still in his hand, for a moment longer than he suspected he should have. He put down the phone, wiping his face of all emotion. The inquisition would arrive shortly and he would need to employ, once more, the neutral expression that had seen him through for so long.
She slipped the phone into her pocket, staring ahead at Jarod. He stood on the other side of the road, the only adult in line for an ice cream. She had kept her focus on him for the duration of her conversation with Sydney, he had turned around every now and then to throw her a reassuring grin that had kept her on track - she wanted to tell Syd everything. She felt she needed to explain her silence, to thank him for everything he'd done but she couldn't, she knew that. Even with freedom there were still secrets to be kept. She had meant to call him sooner, to keep her promise to him, but she'd been distracted.
To look at Jarod now it was hard to believe that she'd come so close to losing him. The break in his leg had been clean, six weeks in a cast had been sufficient time to heal. He'd made a good recovery overall, the doctors had been pleased with his progress and her fears had proved unfounded. They'd kept him in the hospital as a precaution; he'd sustained a fractured skull and they were concerned that he'd been unconscious at one point. She'd spent that first night with him, reluctant to let go of someone she had only just found. The next morning, aching all over after spending the night dozing on a hard chair, she'd returned to the hotel she'd checked into less than twenty four hours before, glad that she had at least one change of clothes. There was no sign of Sydney, the clerk had told her he'd checked out the day before, and a brief flutter of panic had risen in her; she was walking down an unfamiliar path but she returned to the hospital, quashing such thoughts. That night Jarod had insisted she go back to the hotel and she didn't refuse.
Jarod had discharged himself on the third day, against his doctor's wishes, frustrated by his lack of mobility and loss of independence Now in her care Parker found that she was no Florence Nightingale, but it didn't matter as Jarod was not an ideal patient either. He constantly disobeyed the doctor's, and her own, orders to rest and she found the best way to keep him still was to talk. He'd asked her, that first night as they had laid sprawled on her hotel bed, having had no time to make alternative arrangements, about her life: the years after she'd disappeared from his life and before she'd started chasing him. She'd always assumed he'd known more than he should have about her past exploits, his endless probing into her past had annoyed her often enough, but he had listened enthralled, as if every word was being heard for the first time. In return he told her about the pretends The Centre never discovered, about the people he had met. That he'd come back to Scotland on a tip about his mother only to find he'd been about a month too late.
His incapacity kept them in Scotland for some time; they continued that cosy existence, renting a small house on the outskirts of the city, talking, watching bad t.v. and rekindling their friendship. The late night talks that had peppered the chase continued, and in the same manner; with no possibility of anyone listening in and admissions of their feelings now ousted they still skirted around their attraction, an unspoken agreement between them to tread carefully. She had found her own apprehension strange, as this was never something she'd shied away from. She'd taken to jogging daily, leaving Jarod propped up at his laptop, initially to quell the doubts that greeted her every morning; she dealt with the changes her own way, Jarod his. Until one day she came to the realisation that it wasn't about her attraction to him – it was something deeper - admitting her feelings for him had been the easy part, acting upon them brought a whole new realm of possibilities. And with this realisation had come a wave of certainty. As her own apprehension started to fade the jogging became a way to deal with her growing frustration at being so close to Jarod yet never close enough. Jarod was taking longer to come to the same conclusions, something that amazed her as she had always been the reluctant one. She was never known for her patience but she ended up surprising herself; they would kiss, snuggle together, talk intimately - she could wait.
Ice cream paid for, he made his way back to her. They were currently staying in a once popular coastal town that had, quite frankly, seen better days; the old Miss Parker would have wrinkled her nose in disgust, yet she didn't care - The Centre were still unaware as to their location and that was all that mattered. The sun still shone down with some intensity, even though it was after six o'clock, bathing Jarod in a golden light. He edged toward the road, casting her a mischievous grin as he did so before quickly diverting his movements towards the pedestrian crossing instead. She shook her head, smiling to herself as she tracked his graceful movements.
One night, not long after he'd discharged himself from the hospital and the first night out of the hotel, they'd talked about that day once more, the day she'd had her 'epithany'. He had suggested it was all her fault that the car had hit him, a wry grin on his face. She'd momentarily felt a stab of pain at that thought, his words unintentionally hurting her. He'd noticed the change to her demeanour and had quickly added that it was because he couldn't stop staring at her; that it had been too long since he'd seen her that everything else seemed somehow less important. He'd been sprawled across the sofa, one of the few pieces of furniture included with the house, his leg propped up, and his honesty had once more touched her to the core. She'd quickly leant across from the other side to kiss him.
"Finally learnt how to cross the road eh, genius?" she drawled as he approached her, ice cream in one hand already half eaten. The sun shone on his face, she could feel the dwindling warmth at her back, and hear the rhythmic, calming, motions of the sea behind her. Just as she'd told Syd, freedom felt wonderful to her. She tried to recall exactly why she had fought this for so long but the reasons eluded her, long since forgotten. There was only one obstacle in their path, and it was a sizeable one at that.
"I'm a quick study," he grinned, taking another bite of his ice cream, almost finishing it off. "Did you tell him?" he asked casually after swallowing.
"In a roundabout way," she replied. Once Jarod's cast had been removed, they'd left the little house that had become their home. Jarod had become increasingly restless staying in one spot. She had tried her best to diffuse some of his fears, arguing that The Centre would have found them already if Sydney had failed to deter them, but she couldn't fight years of instinct. And, at the back of her mind, she was worried too: The Centre had a knack of removing the people she loved from her life. With funds diverted from her ex employers they had hired a car and headed South, Parker driving and Jarod navigating, after a couple of days of stopping regularly when Jarod had diverted her to yet another must see attraction, they had ended up in the Lake District - an area of natural beauty in the North of England that attracted a wealth of visitors annually. She took it all in her stride and enjoyed herself; she rarely had time to stop and appreciate the world around her and through Jarod's eyes it apppeared infinitely better than she remembered. They'd blended in with other tourists drawn by the unusually warm weather. It was there, on a boat tour around Lake Windermere, that Jarod had proposed 'dealing with The Centre once and for all'. She'd readily acquiesced. Jarod had several ideas on how to do this, thoughts he'd toyed with since his escape but it was only with Parker's input that they'd come up with their 'masterplan'. A way to ensure their freedom.
He nodded slowly, a faint smile now gracing his lips. "So Mrs Dawson, are you ready?" he asked seriously.
She smiled easily, nodding her head and gazing into his twinkling eyes. They'd used other pseudonyms on their journey but 'Dawson' had stuck, becoming a kind of in joke between the two of them. There had been a moment of confusion at the hospital when the nurse had addressed them as such, Parker having forgotten to relate this small fact to Jarod in favour of other, more pressing, matters. And he'd laughed once the nurse had left - no doubt putting Jarod's confusion down to the accident - when she'd confessed that when asked for a name she'd settled for one displayed on a shop sign in the distance.
"We start tomorrow," she confirmed, not willing to start worrying about the possible fall out just yet. She closed what little gap remained between them, her hands running up the front of his t-shirt and meeting behind his neck. "I have plans for you tonight," she said seductively as her lips searched for his. It was a sweet kiss, all the more for the ice cream she could taste on his lips. He held one arm out to the side, ice cream clasped in his hand, the other snaked around her hips, resting on the small of her back. As the kiss deepened he tossed what remained of his snack to one side - Miss Parker easily winning the battle for his attention - a flock of seagulls cleaning up his litter in a matter of seconds, and he brought his now free hand to join its opposite.
They'd become lovers at the Lakes. The moment they had started moving Jarod had visibly relaxed, and in letting down his guard in that respect his remaining hesitancy seemed to diminish as well. In some respects she wondered if he had not planned at least some of the events whilst they were still in Scotland: Jarod had rented a house overlooking the Lakes with ease considering the busy time of the year. She'd stared out of the huge bay window that first night, the sun low in the sky and bathing the view in an orange glow. Jarod had stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her stomach and his chin resting on her shoulder. She'd caught his eyes in the faint reflection bestowed on the window by a small lamp in the corner of the room; his gaze lay on her not the vista ahead of them and their unspoken agreement was broken.
Reluctantly pulling apart he gazed into her eyes, hands now resting on her hips. "I love it when you have plans for me." Two seagulls remained near them, fighting over the last remains of Jarod's ice cream; they only parted when Jarod and Parker began to walk their way, hands clasped together, heading for their hotel.