“As I was sayin’…” Kenna elbowed him lightly, then took up her position in front, leading the way. “Your potty mouth reminded me that you never told me when we said fuck for the first time. Because I don’t remember it at all…”
“Probably ’cause you were worried about other things.”
She glanced back at him, her brows drawn. “Like what?”
“Like me losin’ your granddad’s marble.”
Hudson could count on two fingers the number of times he’d hurt Kenna, and one of them had been that day. They’d been at the lake cabin, and he’d been teasing her about always lugging the marble around. She’d carried it like it’d been a piece of gold. To her, it had been, seeing as it’d been the last thing her grandpa had given her before he’d suddenly passed from a heart attack.
And, like a jackass, Hudson had gone and lost it at the bottom of the fucking lake. He hadn’t meant to—of course he hadn’t. He’d never do anything to hurt her intentionally, even back then when he was a dumb-ass adolescent. But it’d slipped from his wet hands, nonetheless, and had sunk straight to the bottom of the murky water. No amount of searching on his part—and he’d donehoursof it…until his body was wrinkled and the sun was setting—had done a damn thing.
“Oh,” she said, her tone soft, her expression wistful.
Hudson had tried to make up the loss to her, sending her marbles from all over the world just like the one she’d lost. He still sent her those damn things—he couldn’t help it. Any time he came across a tiger’s-eye marble, he thought of her, and he had to buy it. It’d been the one steady thing they’d kept on with in all the years they’d been apart, even when they hadn’t spoken.
“Yeah, ‘Oh.’” He reached up, tugging her ponytail. “So, I can see why you wouldn’t remember how colorful our language got after that, but believe me, it did.”
Kenna hummed in acknowledgment but otherwise didn’t say anything, just continuing along the rocky path toward the top.
Eventually, she broke the silence. “I’ve forgiven you, you know. You don’t have to keep sendin’ me marbles.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
She glanced back at him, her eyes searching, as if looking for something in his expression. Finally, she shook her head. “I didn’t say that.”
He exhaled, not even aware he’d been holding his breath in anticipation of her answer until she’d said the words. Maybe she felt as connected to him when she received them as he did to her when he purchased and sent them.
The two of them might’ve been thousands of miles away and on different continents, but they’d shared this. This tiny, inconsequential thing that wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else but them. And there was little else in the world he loved more than sharing secrets with Kenna. Besides maybe Kenna herself.
“I’ve kept them all,” she said.
“Yeah?” He’d hoped she had, of course, but he knew he had no hold over her. No obligation that would make her do so. But the thought that she’d kept something from him for all these years lit a fire inside him.
Had him aching for a future with her he now knew, without a doubt, he desperately wanted.
“They take up a whole shoe box, I hope you know. You’ve sent me a fuckton of ’em.”
He chuckled, catching up with her and tossing his arm around her shoulders. Pulling her into his side, he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Any time I found one—and I meanany time—I bought it.”
“And mailed it.”
Nodding in agreement, he echoed, “And mailed it.”
“You really know how to blow through your money, don’t you?”
He grinned. “That I do.”
And, truth be told, he’d spend every penny in his bank account if it’d make her smile exactly like she was as she stared up at him.
By the timethey arrived at the higher summit—the highest point one could safely climb Havenbrook Ridge without equipment—the sun was low in the sky. They’d wanted to do some exploring up here today, but he’d delayed them because he couldn’t keep his hands off Kenna. Not now that he’d had a taste.
Fortunately, they were both on the same wavelength when they arrived late. Without exchanging a word, they each settled into their duties from the night before. While setting up the tent, Hudson snuck glances at Kenna as she gathered logs and built them a fire, something warm settling in his chest at the ease with which they worked around each other.
After cooking their dinner over the open flame, he surprised her with marshmallows he’d forgotten he’d packed, and the grin she shot him could’ve melted a snowman.
“You tryin’ to get into my pants tonight or what?” she asked, plucking the marshmallow from his fingers and stabbing a stick through it.
The answer to that was obviously an unequivocal yes.
