"It was, but I wouldn't change it." I turn my head to look at her profile. "They're the best parts of me."
"You're a good brother, Declan."
"I try. Doesn't always work out."
"You're also a good friend and a good teammate." She turns to face me. Suddenly we're inches apart, breathing the same air. "A good man."
"Ivy..."
"I mean it. I know what people say about you, but that's not who you are. Not really."
I reach up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. My fingers linger against her cheek.
"You make me want to be better. The version of myself I see reflected in your eyes."
"You already are that person. You just don't let anyone else see it."
The moment stretches between us, heavy with unspoken things. I could kiss her right now. Should kiss her. Every cell in my body is screaming to close this distance, to taste her lips in the sunlight.
But kissing her would turn this picnic into a sexual encounter we can’t stop. And I want more time with her like this when she’sopen and honest. So I let my hand fall away, forcing myself to sit up.
"Come on. There's one more thing I want to show you."
She accepts my offered hand, and I pull her to her feet. We pack up the picnic supplies, carrying them back to the car. Then I lead her around the cabin to where a fire pit sits surrounded by Adirondack chairs.
"I thought we could end the day here by watching the sunset and talking some more," I say, gesturing to the chairs.
We settle into the chairs, and I start building a fire. The ritual is soothing. I gather kindling, arrange logs, coax flame. Ivy watches with fascination.
"You're good at that."
"Scout training." I blow gently on the emerging fire. "My dad was big on being prepared for anything."
"He sounds like he was a good man."
"He was the best." I sit back, watching flames catch and spread. "He would have liked you."
She reaches across the space between our chairs, fingers finding mine.
"I'm glad you brought me here."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She squeezes my hand. "Thank you for today. For all of it."
"Ivy, I…" I stop, the words catching in my throat.
Because what I want to say is too big, too soon, too real.
I want more than a month with you. I want mornings like this and nights like last week and everything in between. I want to wake up next to you and fall asleep listening to you breathe. I want to know every thought in that brilliant mind, every dream you've ever had, every fear you're too proud to admit.
I want you in ways I can't even name yet, in ways that terrify and exhilarate me simultaneously.
But instead of saying any of that, I just hold her hand tighter and watch the fire burn. We stare at the sky until the sun sets and day turns into night. Then we talk and talk and talk, sharing our hearts.
Hours later, the sun is setting, and we’re reluctantly packing up to leave.
We drive back in comfortable silence, hands linked, both of us lost in our own thoughts. The city lights come into view around eleven. I pull up outside her apartment, reluctant to let the day end.
