Page 111 of Make You Mine

Jayce stopped and scanned the area with the flashlight. Within moments he stopped on a tree to the left. It looked like any other to my eyes, but as we approached I realized there was something carved into the bark:

T A H

“TAH,” I read out loud. “Theresa Alexandra Hawkins.”

Jayce pulled a shovel from the backpack. “Yep.”

Digging took just as much time as walking out here had, since Jayce had to mostly use his left arm. He worked tirelessly, pausing to take off his shirt when he got too sweaty. I kept the flashlight on his glistening body and made no effort to conceal my admiring stares.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, throwing a shovel-full of dirt to the side.

“Mmm hmm.”

“You could help.”

“And deny myself the show?”

He laughed, stuck the shovel in the ground, and planted a boot on the blade to drive it into the ground.

It hit something wooden.

It took several more minutes before he’d dug out the top. It was a crate like the one buried outside his barn, but larger. At least two feet to a side.

“How did you get this all the way out here?” I asked.

“Dad was a doomsday prepper,” he explained. “He buried this out here decades ago, for storing cans of beans and shit. It’s good for hiding other stuff, though. I got the tattoos to remind me where it was.”

“Hiding the coordinates in plain sight,” I said. “Wow.”

Jayce retrieved a crowbar from the backpack, holding it up to the flashlight. After a second I recognized it as Sid’s.

“Seems poetic to use his own weapon for something like this,” he said, then wedged it between the crate lid and heaved. Wood creaked as he worked it into the gap, then stepped on it for leverage. When enough of it came away he used his hands to pull it all the way off.

I shined the flashlight into the hole.

Inside were gallon-sized Ziploc bags identical to the one Jayce had turned over to the police. There were dozens of them, maybe even a hundred. And just like the other bag, these were filled with rolls of money.

“Holy fuck,” I breathed.

“There’s that mouth again.”

“I save my curses for the right moment. And this is definitely the right moment!” I grabbed a bag and opened it, feeling the money between my fingers. “Jayce! There must be a million dollars here!”

“Just shy, Peaches,” he said sadly. “It’s only about nine hundred grand.”

“Only,” I gasped. I was struggling to accept what I was seeing. “Only.”

“I guess technically it’s Eight hundred and eighty grand, since I gave one bag to the cops.”

“Stop saying really big numbers! You’re breaking my brain!”

Jayce lifted one of the bags and held it up to me. “Do you know what we can do with this?”

“What?”

“Whatever we want, Peaches.” A smile spread across his gorgeous face. “Whatever the hell we want.”

I kissed him, and not just because the ruggedly handsome man I’d fallen in love with was also suddenlyrich.

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