Tumble (Dogwood Lane 1)

“Neely! Come with us,” she shouts.

“Where are you going?” I laugh.

“To the creek. Dad is taking me, Keyarah, and Madison. Come with us.”

I look up to see Dane watching me from the lawn, holding the kickball. He grins.

“You sure?” I ask her, my heart fluttering like crazy.

“Uh, yeah.” She opens her palm. A little green-and-yellow bracelet, just like Dane’s, lies in her hand. “This is for you.”

“Mia,” I gasp. I look at her. Her eyes are sparkling, filled with such a pure kindness and affection it brings tears to my eyes. “Did you make this?”

“I did. I made Daddy one a long time ago, and he wears it all the time. Says it’s his lucky charm. And I have a pink one and so do Keyarah and Madison, but we don’t wear them always because of gymnastics.”

I lift the delicate strands from her hand. “Thank you.”

She helps me tie it in place and then inspects her work. With a bright smile, she takes my hand. “Come on.” She pulls me the way she came, through the tables and over a patch of sand. Once we’re almost to her friends, she drops my hand. “Let’s go!”

The girls traipse off toward the tree line that hides a little creek. Their dresses float behind them, their giggles swishing through the air.

“Don’t get near the water until I get there,” Dane warns them.

“Okay,” they shout in unison.

“To be young again.” I laugh, falling in step with Dane. We head down the slope toward the trees. Dandelions create little pops of yellow against the green, the sky a vivid blue with billowy white clouds overhead. “It’s so beautiful out here.”

“You look beautiful today.”

“Thanks.” My cheeks flush, and it has nothing to do with the sun. “You clean up pretty nice yourself.”

“I don’t love shirts like this. I feel like I’m getting strangled.” He picks at his collar.

“I don’t love dresses either. I wear them to work when I have to, but it’s much easier navigating New York in pants, I think.”

“What’s it like there? If you were walking around on a Sunday afternoon, what would it be like?”

I take in the lush green foliage in front of us, the high grass sprinkled with beautiful flowers, and laugh. “I’m not used to seeing pretty things when I walk outside. I usually get a bunch of buildings, a couple of rats, and a man telling me I have to get a new route because a movie is filming in front of me.”

He makes a face. “I don’t know how you live like that.”

“You get used to it.”

We get to the tree line. Dane goes first down the path to the creek. It doesn’t look as worn as it did when I was little, but it’s still clearly marked. The girls’ laughter echoes through the valley.

Birds call overhead and gnats buzz my face. It’s weirdly refreshing.

“Watch your step,” he says. “There’s a big hole up here, and I know you don’t look where you’re stepping.” He hops over a trench.

“That’s not a hole.” I laugh. “A hole is a dip. That’s a . . . cut.”

“Give me your hand.”

“I can make it.”

“Give me your hand,” he says again. His hand stretches toward me. Instinctively, my hand falls into his. “Oh, you got your bracelet.”

“I did.” I think I beam, but I don’t care. “I love it.”

“She worked on that for three nights.” He squeezes my hand. “Now jump.”

“You realize three little girls just did this without help, right?” I ask, enjoying the warmth of his palm.

“Country girls. You’re a city slicker now.”

“I am not.”

He wrinkles his face at the defiance in my tone. It takes me aback too. I don’t know why I took that as an almost-insult, but I did.

“Jump,” Dane says.

Determined to show him I’m not a city slicker, I leap across the trench with gusto. My toe catches on a tree root, and I crash into Dane’s arms.

We both gasp as his arms wrap around my waist and my chest hits his. It takes a second to get my head together. I can feel his heart beat against my cheek. His cologne hangs in the air, but being so close, I can smell him—the oils on his skin. The sweetness of his breath. The scent that’s strongest in the crook of his neck.

He grins as I look up, trying to catch my breath.

“Good thing I warned you,” he teases.

“Yeah,” I pant. “Good thing.”

His palms lie flat against the small of my back. His fingers flex against my shirt. Our eyes stay locked together, a grin tickling the corner of his lips.

Whether it’s too much contact or the sweet summer air, all my sense of reality is lost. I fall happily into his gaze. My lungs fill, my heart skips as he begins to lower his head to mine.