“Just Blair.”
Blair
(eighteen years old)
My car rattled over the cattle guard to the place that had always felt the most like home. And I found Denver sitting on the front porch steps alone, looking small and weak despite his six-foot-something, muscular stature. I popped the seat belt buckle with my thumb before I’d come to a stop, and the car was hardly in park by the time I was bailing out.
“Baby.” I ran to the stairs, throwing myself at him. My arms held tight around his neck, tugging his head against my chest. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”
My nails scraped across his scalp and he groaned, leaning into my touch and wrapping his arms around my waist. I sat in his lap, playing with his hair. Holding him as he heldme.
“Bear, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“You’re not supposed to do anything. Just let me take care of you.” I kissed his forehead. “I’m here for you. Let me take care of everything.”
Together, we walked into the silent house, and the stairs to the second floor groaned under our combined weight. But I kept my arm around him, scared he could collapse, and we fell to his bed together. Within minutes of my fingers sifting through his hair, and his head nestled between my collarbone and jaw, Denver fell asleep. Slow, gentle snores—his brain finally able to take a break, and his heartbeat slowing to normal, quite possibly for the first time in days.
We knew it was close to her time. We’d known all week. But with midterm season and looming project deadlines, I selfishly insisted I stay in Vancouver until the weekend.
Lucy was supposed to make it to the weekend.
But she couldn’t. On Thursday, she fell asleep and didn’t wake. By the time Kate called me, it didn’t matter that I dropped everything to drive five hours to Wells Canyon. It was too late. I was too late, and I didn’t get to say goodbye.
When Denver woke up an hour later, I suggested we get some food, and his only reply was a groan. Then I suggested a shower, and he groaned again. So for another hour, we just lay there holding on to each other without a word.
“Come on, let’s go have a shower and some food. You’ll feel better.” I sat up, tugging on his arm to take him with me.
“Can we stay here a little while longer?”
“Just humor me with a shower and dinner before my stomach consumes itself. Then we’ll come right back.” I pulled on his hand, digging my heels into the floor until he reluctantly sat up and followed like a dejected puppy.
Shutting the bathroom door with my foot, I gripped the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head, slowly stripping him. The Wells Ranch brand he’d burned into his skin to match his brothers and dad was finally nicely healed, but still pink and raised, and I ran my fingers over it, pulling him toward me for a kiss.
His hand flew up before my lips met his. “Oh, God. I threw up earlier. Just…hold on.”
He brushed his teeth while I undressed, our eyes constantly meeting in the mirror over the sink. Then I let the water run until it was warm, and we squeezed our bodies into the small shower together. Letting it wash away the pain and dried tears and warm our weary bones. I held him tight, kissing his chest and shoulders.
Fearing we might run out of hot water any minute, eventually I took a step back and reached for the soap to spreadover his tanned skin. I raked shampoo-coated fingers through thick hair, and kissed his jaw when he tilted his head back to rinse.
“Thank you,” he muttered against my lips before kissing me. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re everything—all I have.”
“I’m here, baby. I’m always here for you.”
That was something I wore like a badge of honor: being his person. We had each other, and that was the only thing that mattered.
—
Even though it had been two months since I’d been to the house, and Lucy hadn’t been filling the space with her joy for months before that—it suddenly felt empty without her. The one-hundred-year-old farmhouse was in mourning, cloaked in stormy skies that let sadness seep into the cracks in the floorboards. A heaviness hung in the air, and no one but Denver and me seemed to be around.
After a quiet meal of toast with jam in a kitchen lit only by the glow of a stove light, I handwashed the dishes and led Denver back upstairs. Since we’d changed into pajamas after our shower, we climbed into bed and I wrapped my arms around him. Praying he’d fall asleep, so all the pain could stop for a little while.
But he kissed me. A soft, closed-mouth peck good night. Then his hands slid to either side of my face, pulling me into him with a deeper kiss, his tongue forcing its way between my lips. The moment a small whimper left my lungs, he was feral. Kissing me and pulling my legs to straddle his waist. I couldn’t breathe, giving him every bit of oxygen I had in my lungs with an all-consuming kiss. It seemed like he needed the air more than I did, anyway.
His touch trailed down my body, snapping the waistband of my pajama pants, and his fingers slipped underneath. Ibroke free of his kiss, giving him a confused look. “Denver, I don’t think you want to do this.”
“Please, baby.Please.I need to feel you. I need things to feel normal—like this is a regular sleepover—just for a little while.”
I’d give him anything he asked for. So I nodded, shimmying my shirt off and letting him kiss my breasts while I grinded my hips against him.
