Denver:It hasn’t left my brain since the moment it happened, actually.
Blair:Give me a ride home after we finish our drinks by the river. We’ll talk then.
Denver:Only if you promise not to puke in my truck
Blair:I make no such promises, but I bet it’s a risk you’re still willing to take
Part of me is aching to chug the rest of my drink and go find Denver. Another part of me is terrified about what will happen when I’m alone with him again. The moment he looks at me, I’m a goner.
—
A little over two hours later, Cass stares at me from her front porch with a look that speaks volumes. “Be careful, okay?”
“I will be.” My lips crook into a smile I’m hoping is reassuring.
“I don’t have a problem with Denny, or even with you two together. I love both of you. But I know you had a bit of a hard time after you broke up, and I also know what he’s like now.”
A bit of a hard time is the understatement of the century. Never wanting to worry the people around me, I put on a brave face back then rather than confiding in my best friend about the extent of the situation. Queen offake it ’til you makeit.
“Babe, I’m fine—swear.”
“You love really hard, and I don’t want you to get hurt if the feelings aren’t reciprocated.”
“It’s just a ride home because, between the heat and Cecily’s potent sangria, I probably shouldn’t drive. Nobody’s falling in love.”
She points her head toward where Denver’s leaning against the hood of his pickup. “Have fun.”
I turn and smile at him, waving a quick goodbye to Cass over my shoulder and trying to disguise the extra spring in mystep while I walk across the crunchy gravel to his truck. Obviously, it’s not the same truck he had back when we were seventeen, but sliding onto the dark leather passenger seat, breathing in the faint smell of his cologne, and rolling the window down to feel the sunshine on my bare arm still feels a lot like it used to. Like home.
Denver hops into the driver’s seat, and the diesel engine rumbles to life, filling my nostrils with yet another nostalgic scent. I swallow hard, watching his tanned forearms flex as he shifts the manual transmission. Thick veins branch under his skin, begging to have my fingertips tracing them. I keep an eye on his strong jaw, with light brown stubble catching sunlight, in my periphery as we pull away. It’s no wonder all the girls in town have been chasing after him in the years since I left, and a dull ache takes up residence in my chest when I consider how many of them have sat in this seat.
“Do you need to go straight home?” he asks when the truck rattles over the cattle guard at the end of the driveway.
“Why? Have somewhere else in mind?”
I’m openly flirting now, I’ll admit. If the rumors are true, he’s incapable of any commitment beyond a single night. Cassidy says I love too hard, but I had plenty of one-night stands and short-term relationships in Vancouver. They were a welcomed distraction. Something to quiet the storm in my brain. Maybe I can do the same thing here. Get it out of my system, then move on to the things Ishouldbe prioritizing.
“There’s a place I want to show you,” he says.
“I have nowhere else to be.” Nor anywhere I’d rather be than here with him.
Rather than heading left, toward town, his large hands glide over the steering wheel, spinning it to the right. When we reach cruising speed, I twist my hair around until it creates a makeshift bun at the nape of my neck, and sink into the seat. Warm summer air whips around in the cab, carryingthe aroma of freshly cut hay and the crackling sound of tires on a dirt road.
Aside from Koe Wetzel’s hushed voice coming from the radio, it’s comfortably silent between us. We’ve never needed to fill the space with unnecessary chitchat, and there’s something magical about being with a person who feels so much like an extension of yourself you don’t need to do anything except coexist. Despite the years, the trauma, the heartbreak, Denver Wells is always going to be that person for me.
“I missed this,” he says after a few minutes of silence, which he clearly spent lost in thought with me.
“Me too,” I admit. “It’s been really nice to be home, actually.”
“So much so that you’re referring to Wells Canyon as home again?”
They say home is where your heart is. Fourteen years away, and I didn’t give my heart to anyone else. Because how could I? It was back here in Wells Canyon…with him.
So—
“Yeah, it’s always been home.” I shift in my seat. “I loved my life in Vancouver, and didn’t expect to be back here, but…”
“I get it.” His hands aggressively twist around the leather-wrapped steering wheel. Then he turns off the road onto a trail that’s barely wide enough to fit the truck. And he stops.
