Bowen unfolds himself from the rocking chair, and it's then that I see the bag when he bends over to grasp the handles. My duffel.
While I was trying not to fall apart over him in the shower, he was busy packing my bag. Red the Dragon’s face is popping out of the top. Bowen stops in front of me, sets the bag down at my feet.
I hear Delaney say “so” to my dad, but I don't hear anything else when Bowen reaches out with one hand, wrapping it around the back of my neck, and pulls me to his chest.
I go. Of course I go. I let my forehead rest against him and focus on the feel of his thumb rubbing the sensitive skin under my ear.
There's no kiss. No declarations or promises. But I swear I can feel his threads fraying with every exhale against my hair. His body is tense, and his heart is pounding the same rhythm as my own.
“Go see your mom, kitten. Spend time with your parents.”
“What about you?”
Bowen shrugs, dropping his hand and stepping back. “This is my home, Kit. If you ever find your way back around, I'll be here.”
If I ever find my way back around.
I think about it with every mile home. I try to listen to my dad's conversation, but it's hard when my whole body is rejecting the distance.
I almost beg him to turn around multiple times. So I can go back to that damn cabin and pull Bowen down for a kiss. So I can poke my finger into his chest and demand he drop the tough guy act. So I can drop down to my knees at his feet and beg him to care enough to ask me to come back.
I don't want him to talk like me leaving is a given. I want him to demand my time. My apologies. My heart.
I want to actually get to wake up next to him. I want to live a whole day knowing what it's like to have Bowen Briggs smile at me with the first rays of sun bathing his bronzed face, still soft with sleep. I want to make love to him in the small cabin, burning new memories into his mind. I want to kiss him in the hammock and run with him through the trees. I want to figure out what the hell I want to do in life with his steady support by my side.
I don't want to know more days without him.
It takes until we're pulling in the driveway for me to realize, I didn't worry a single time about leaving him there with Delaney.
Kit
My mom's hug is hard enough I'm surprised I don't hear any bones popping. What I do hear is her hiccupped sob in my ear. Every single one has her holding onto me a little tighter. My own eyes are watery when she finally pulls back, cupping my face.
I'm hit all over again with how shitty I've been to them. And no matter how much they worried or missed me, they respected my boundaries the whole time.
“Oh, Kit,” she says, wiping away the tears on my cheeks. Her smile doesn't hold any bitterness, not even an ounce of hard feeling. Just pure, unconditional love. It's me who pulls her back in for another embrace. She laughs, holding me tightly. “We've missed you so much, honey.”
I nod, swiping under my eyes. I tuck the fabric of the hoodie back into my hands and finally look around.
It smells the same. Like clean laundry and the warm vanilla candles Mom has always burned after she cleans. The kitchen has the same wooden table.Different flowers in the center, but the same glass vase we got her one Mother's Day.
There are still pictures hung on the fridge, mail sitting in a pile on the counter. My dad's favorite tea mug. Mom's purse left on one of the chairs, like it always was.
The carpet in the living room is the same. The couch, same. Everything inside is the same as I left it. I'm the only one that's different now.
And maybe my parents, because of me. Dad wraps his arm around Mom's waist, and she tilts her head onto his shoulder. They both just look at me, perched on the edge of the couch. Not uncomfortable, per se, but like my own threads are frayed.
“It's so good to see you here,” Mom says, wistfully. I chuckle, and Dad grins.
“Not that the pictures you sent weren't beautiful. But nothing beats seeing you safe at home,” Dad adds.
“You need a haircut,” Mom says absently, still smiling.
“He needs smaller clothes, too, by the looks of it.”
“We should take him shopping. The mall, maybe?” Mom questions.
“I bet he needs socks. New shoes.”
