I reach out, desperate for him not to be a dream.My fingers slide over his bearded cheek, and he leans into my touch, his lopsided smile emerging weakly.Water drips from the ends of his brown hair like tears.His dark t-shirt is soaked—it’s unlike Henry to forget his raincoat.But when his eyes close to my affection, like it’s exactly what he needed, I decide that he wasn’t thinking about weather preparations.
Disheveled and worried, he looks as conflicted as I feel, and his grip on me tightens, like he’s afraid I might disappear.
“It’s not working.”Raindrops speck his glasses, but not enough to prevent me from seeing his pupils blown wide, worry lines crinkling the corners of his eyes.“Your plan… It’s not working.”
“I know.”
“It wasn’t enough,” he says.
“I know.”
“One more night.”His voice is strained, rough.“Please?”
“Yes, Henry.Yes.”He’s here.He’s really here.He’s here for me.His perfect lips curl in relief before his mouth meets mine—our kiss as unrelenting as the storm outside.
“Is that my shirt?”he asks at my lips, moving us further inside.
I pause our wild kisses to meet his eyes.“I’m keeping it.”
“It’s yours,” he groans, looking me up and down.“Whatever you want is yours.”
“You, Henry,” I mutter, needily tugging his collar toward me before kissing him again.“After the shirt, just you.”
An unsynchronized dance ensues as we kiss, touch, talk, and circle into the living room.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers, biting my bottom lip and toying with my loose braid.
“Me, neither,” I mutter breathlessly, finding the hem of his t-shirt and letting my hands wander underneath.“And the storm, too.”
“The storm,” he repeats with anguish, devouring my neck while his hands grip my ass.We stumble to the back of the couch, and he pins me against it.“It makes me think of us—our lean-to.I still get nervous with lightning.”
“No matter where I am or what I’m doing, storms bring me back to you,” I admit, ridding him of his damp shirt.
He traces my jawline with his finger, his eyes wide with delight.“I still dream of you sneaking in my window, even now when I’m three floors up.”
A delighted chuckle escapes me as my fingers drag across his back.“I still can’t fall asleep without imagining your arms wrapped around me.”
His hands find my cheeks, and his thumbs sweep across them as his brown eyes delve into mine.A gentle crease forms at the bridge of his nose.“We might be in trouble here.”
“I know,” I say, as his forehead rests against mine and our noses nuzzle.My arms settle on his shoulders, and the hot breath between us fogs his glasses.I reach up, slip them off, and drop them onto the couch cushions behind me.Our gazes lock again.“Do you wish I hadn’t come back?”
“No.Never.”His quick answer brings relief, but his brow furrows again.“But you’ll leave again.”
“Yes,” I breathe, knowing I don’t belong here.Or anywhere.My transitory life has served me and everyone else well.
He nods against me.“So, you’re you, and I’m me, and this will never be more than it is.What do we do?”
There’s no suitable answer except to say, “We love each other now, and save the aftermath for tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” he says, kissing me again.“Tomorrow.”
CHAPTER22
Henry
Tomorrow comes too soon.Light crests the skylights over her bed, and a tear slips from my eye onto her pillow.That she’s curled against my chest, asleep, makes no difference to my growing dread.It’s only dawn and I’m in no rush to leave, but that time will come.Soon.
Tears didn’t used to come so easily.I cried my heart out when she left the first time, but then, they dried up, as if my tear ducts shriveled into inoperability.Until Uncle Jay.Then, I cried in secret.For Mom’s sake and Olly’s, I had to join Fred in what I mentally referred to as the Fortress of Strength, handling the tasks that Mom couldn’t manage, Olly shouldn’t see, and no one wants.
