“I showed up on her doorstep, too.”
I blink. “You went to the Johnsons’?”
“I flew in from California and drove straight there.” The corner of his mouth curves, and the look on his face is so tender it makes my chest ache. “Turns out we each threw ourselves on the sword for the other person. She was pretty entertained.”
I curl the fingers of my free hand and press them to my heart, something bright spreading through me. And I recognize it as joy. Pure joy. My book club friends would call this a bucket list moment. It’s annoying how smart they are.
The woman in the row ahead isn’t even pretending anymore—she’s fully turned around, forehead resting against the two seats.
“I know you’re scared,” Jeremy says. “Life taught you that the people who say they love you are the ones who end up hurting you the most. I can’t fix that with a speech on a plane.”
“Pretty good speech, though,” the big man offers.
Jeremy’s eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, his knee presses harder against my leg, warm and certain.
“Let me stand beside you, Avah, even when it’s messy.Especially when it’s messy. I’ve spent too much of my life choosing managed and lonely, so I’ll pick complicated with you every day.”
We bounce through a pocket of turbulence, and my fingers tighten around his without any conscious decision from my brain. He holds on, solid and steady.
“I went to see your sister this morning,” I tell him. “She told me I was an idiot.”
“She told me the same thing when I called her on my way to the airport.”
I laugh. “Sloane is annoyingly consistent.”
“It’s her worst quality.”
The plane steadies, and I glance out the window to see the grid of subdivisions giving way to a patchwork of brown plains. My thoughts shift to the people who made me believe that love was either a transaction or a weapon. Then I think about the man who flew across the country and crammed himself into the middle seat next to a beef jerky enthusiast because he refuses to let me disappear.
“I love you, too.” As I stare into his eyes, something loosens in my chest that’s been wound tight for months. Years, maybe. “I was in deep the moment you rescued me off that beach. I’m kind of a basic bitch that way.”
“You’re a lot of things, Avah. Basic isn’t one of them.”
“I’m serious, though.” I stretch out my fingers so our palms press together. “You showed up for me before you had any reason to, and you never stopped.” I swallow hard. “I don’t need you to fix my life or fight my battles or buy me things I didn’t ask for. I just need you to stand beside me and let me do the same for you. We can handle the rest together.”
“That’s all I want,” he says quietly. “That’s everything.”
He lifts my hand and drops a gentle kiss on each of my knuckles. I hear the woman in front of us sigh.
Yep, this is joy.
“And now you’re stuck with me for the next three and a halfhours.” I make a show of looking around the cabin then wink. “In coach.”
He kisses me with no regard for our audience. I’m not sure I’ll ever get enough of Jeremy’s mouth on mine. “Sweetheart,” he says, his breath warm against the corner of my lips, “you’re stuck with me forever.”
We settle back into our seats, hands still clasped together, temples touching across the edges of our seats. The big man offers up the beef jerky again. Jeremy, God love him, takes a piece.
EPILOGUE
JEREMY
The setting sunturns the sky above the camp stage into a brilliant mix of orange and purple that makes Colorado natives feel sorry for people who live anywhere else.
Joel stands at the microphone with Mariel beside him, both of them a little sunburned, but grinning wildly. Behind them, the hand-painted NorthStar Way banner ripples in the early evening breeze.
I’m sitting on a log bench next to Avah and Sloane, surrounded by fifty-some people I’ve come to know and care about over the past two weekends. Glenn from Nebraska is in the front row, while the BME major whose mom has ovarian cancer is on the bench in front of us with a gaggle of younger campers and volunteers. The retired firefighter, a total softie, is wiping his eyes before Joel even gets to the emotional part of his closing remarks.
“We had a heck of a week,” Joel says, and the crowd responds with whistles and applause. “Every year I think, okay, that was the best one, we’ve peaked. Every year this community proves me wrong.”
