He kissed me again, and I was like putty in his hands, melting into his hold.
When he pulled away, he pressed a finger to my lips.
“I want a college where I can make a difference. It feels right. It feels like home. And I want to stay in Wishing Tree with you and work on being together.”
The snow drifted around us, and my chest ached with moreemotions than I could name.
We hugged each other hard in the softly falling snow, neither of us willing to let go. My head was a mess of relief and wonder, and I could feel his heart hammering.
“You’re everything to me,” Hunter said, his breath warm against my temple. “I’m not selling The Real McCoy. Not leaving. I won’t run it, but we could get a manager in, and hey, what if we knocked through the old wall between us? You think they would give us permits for a café bookshop?”
“Hunter—”
“No, please, don’t stop me. Wes, I want forever with you, and I know that sounds dramatic?—”
I shut him up with a kiss. I pressed my mouth to his, desperate and certain all at once. When we parted, I whispered, “Not dramatic. Perfect.”
“Ready?” he asked, and he held out his hand. Then we followed carved arrows to yet another stunning building. The front doors opened into a world that didn’t feel real, and my nerves screamed louder than my common sense. I felt small, out of place, as though I’d wandered into the wrong story. Hunter, by contrast, carried himself with ease, and when I hesitated, he leaned close.
“What’s wrong?”
“I never went to college,” I said.
“So?”
“Well, these people will wonder why you’re with someone like me who?—”
“Who got cut off from their family when they were a senior in school, and made their way in the world with nothing to their name, as impressively as you?”
I stopped him then. I didn’t want him to think I was some penniless kid on the streets. I’d had advantages that other people cut out of family didn’t have.
“I had money, Hunter. I sold my car, I got a mortgage, I have a trust fund that is kinda big and comes to me on my thirtieth.”
He stared at me, puzzled. “Okay…”
“Shit. My last name is Fairfax-Fitzalan.”
He blinked at me. “Fairfax-Fitzalan? As in asshole Senator Fairfax-Fitzalan? That anti-queer, anti-women, anti-anything asshole?” I nodded miserably and waited for him to shove me away. “That explains a lot,” he said.
I waited for more, but he stared at me, and I thought I’d blown it. “I should have told you, but that isn’t me and?—”
“It’s old money bullshit,” he said with a smile.
“Hunter—”
“And it’s a good thing that family cut you, and now Ru, off. You’re both best off out of there.”
What? For real? He didn’tcare. “I’m not keeping the money in my trust,” I said, urgently. “I’m not going to be some rich guy who?—"
“I don’t care how much money you have, Wes?—”
“No, listen.” I can’t believe we’re having this conversation in the grand hall of some old college. “There’s this charity in Hill Valley upstate, and this man Zach and his husband Ben, they set up a charity for queer homeless kids, and I’ve been researching them, and I’m only taking enough to keep The Story Lantern afloat, and then the rest is going into a charity for people who lose family like I did.” Everything spilled out in an instant and probably made no sense.
“Correction, Wes. They didn’tloseyou, sweetheart, they threw you away.”
“I know… but I had advantages, not much, but I had a fancy car to sell and… shit Hunter… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“Meh, it’s okay.”
