Credence

“No, why?” I arch an eyebrow. “Is that a de Haas family trait?”

“No, a Van der Berg one.”

I look up at him. I expected a remark about my family.

“You’re ours now,” he says and looks down to meet my eyes.

Ours now.

When you’re here, you’re a Van der Berg, Noah had said.

Jake’s soft eyes hold mine, and the way he stares at me makes warmth bubble up in my chest, and I don’t know why. Noah and Kaleb seem miles away.

I look away, suddenly aware he’s half-dressed, but his eyes stay on me. I can see him out of the corner of my eye as I reel my line back in a little. His smell surrounds me—a mixture of grass, coffee, and something else I can’t place.

“These things are like ropes,” he says, and I feel him pick up one of my braids.

He squeezes my thick, blonde braid in his fist and releases it, clearing his throat. “Can I tell you something?” he asks.

I glance at him, my heart beating fast.

“Fish are usually hanging out where there’s a change in current or a change in depth,” he tells me. “See that eddy over there? The still water by the rock?”

I follow where he’s pointing, looking past the small rapid and whitewater, to the small, gently swirling pool.

I nod.

“That’s where we want to get your line,” he explains. “They’ll be waiting for insects, minnows, and all the other little guys to get washed down in the rapid.”

Oh.

That makes sense. I thought fish just swam everywhere.

Setting down his pole, he takes mine, reels it in, and then takes my hand, leading me out into the stream.

I tighten my grip, feeling the grooves of his rough palm in mine, almost wanting to thread my fingers through his just to feel it more.

My feet hit the cold water, my shoes instantly filling up as we tread out a few feet, and he comes up behind me, fitting my hand in his and putting both of ours on the handle.

I still, his bare chest blanketing my naked back, and I close my eyes for a moment.

Pulling our arms back, in unison, he tosses the line, letting it fly to the still pool and reeling it back in.

“If you don’t like fishing,” he says behind me, his voice low and husky, “there’s a pretty cool cave behind the waterfall. It doesn’t go that deep, but it’s peaceful.”

We cast the line again, trying to reach just beyond the pool. “Sounds like a good place for teenagers to do bad things,” I joke.

“As a matter of fact…” He chuckles.

Oh, great. I can only imagine what the boys get up to back there, growing up here as they have.

“If a guy takes you there,” he tells me, “now you’ll know what he’s after.”

“Then maybe you should take me.”

He stops spinning the reel, and I stop breathing. That sounded…

Oh, my God.