Year Four (Kingmakers, #4)

by Sophie Lark

We’ve only been driving a few minutes when he pulls into a small neighborhood along the cliffs. It’s not as fancy as where his parents live—the yards are overgrown with untamed gardens and untrimmed trees, the roofs covered in moss. The houses are small, cedar-plank sided with ramshackle decks. We’ve stopped in front of a cabin so covered in honeysuckle vines that I can hardly see the house at all. “What do you think?” Rafe asks. “I love it!” I tell him, honestly. “It looks like we’re in the middle of nowhere. But we’re five minutes from Shake Shack.” Rafe laughs. My growing obsession with American burgers has toured us through every grill in a fifty-mile radius. “I want to buy this house for you,” he says. “I thought we could live here when we get married in the spring. If you really do like it.” I can’t speak. My heart is beating too hard. The cabin is right on the edge of the cliff. From the back deck, we’ll be able to watch the sun set over the ocean. A set of rotting wooden steps leads down the cliff to the beach. “We’ll fix those,” Rafe says, nodding in the direction of the top step clinging to the rock face by a single nail. “We’ll fix up the whole house. I’ll make it exactly how you want it.” “If you’re in it,” I say. “That’s the only thing I care about.”