“No. I was too distraught and overwhelmed. Maybe… maybe this could be a memorial of sorts; a way to remember them.”
A gentle feeling settles over me like a warm blanket. This is Adam finally making amends for what he has lost, shifting from despair to a necessary determination to move on with his life. I offer him an empathetic smile.
“I like this idea, Adam.”
“Me too.”
He turns quiet. Even though the years of pain and now this latest twist involving his cousin are a definite blow, I feel like he’s finally made peace with himself. And that’s the most important step for him to feel any sense of closure.
“What do you say we pack up and get this day started?” He leans over me and puckers my lips with his hand, kissing me on the mouth, long and hard and deep. Even through his ongoing grief, this man remains rugged and magnetic in a quiet way that moves me. I’m entirely present in this life we’re building together.
“Let’s do it.”
I’m still in pajama bottoms and a loose tee, my hair tied back in a ratty, messy bun. We haven’t camped near a bathhouse in days, and I’m starting to resemble a prehistoric cave woman. I climb aboard the van and make the bed and straighten up the interior while Adam handles the outside. I open my toiletry bag anddig out some wet wipes, running them under my armpits and other areas before changing into hiking gear. My hair falls limply around my shoulders as I remove my scrunchie. I rummage in my bag for some dry shampoo and a hairbrush. The travel bottle is empty, and my brush has disappeared.
“Oh, well,” I mutter under my breath. I rarely complain around Adam, but he knows how I feel about personal hygiene. It’s been several days of sunscreen and sweaty hikes since I’ve washed my hair. I told him the night before that I would need to use the faucet at a gas station if we didn’t get to a campsite with running water soon.
As I climb out of the van, fully dressed and ready for the day, I stop in my tracks.
Standing under a shade tree is Adam, grinning from ear to ear. He’s parked next to one of our camping chairs with a towel draped over his shoulder. There’s a gallon of water in his hands, and a bottle of shampoo in the other.
“What are you doing?” I slowly walk toward him.
His entire face evokes love when he smiles at me. “I want to wash your hair for you.”
I am hundreds of miles away from my other life, where everything was clean and shiny. Where I sat alone in an office and watched the world spin outside while not knowing what I was supposed to be doing. And now, here I am with dirt under my fingernails and unwashed hair hiding under a ball cap,standing at a campsite in the middle of nowhere with the man that I love. With his gentle heart, he’s offering me a simple gift, something he knows I’ve wanted. Delicious heat rolls through my belly, spreading slow and sweet like honey.
“You told me last night your head felt itchy. I feel bad we’ve been off-roading for the last week. You’ve been a good sport. Please, let me do this for you.” He pats the top of the chair, and I walk closer to him.
“Are you sure? I think I can go another day or two.”
He chuckles, grabs the ball cap from my head, and flings it into the grass. “I’m sure. Now sit.” Molly perks up and fetches the hat, bringing it back to him. “Good girl.”
I do as I’m told and sit in the chair, tilting my head back to look at Adam upside down. He loops the towel over my shoulders and smiles down at me, brushing my hair out with the hairbrush I was looking for earlier.
“I’m not pulling too hard, am I?”
I close my eyes. “No. Feels wonderful.”
I can hear him chuckle again, his hands stilling before a surge of cold water rains down over my head. It’s a shock to my system, and I squeal.
“Sorry. It’s not warm, but it could be worse.”
Expelling a long breath, I mutter, “I don’t mind.”
He squirts some shampoo into his hands and rubs them across my itchy scalp before kneading his strong fingers through my hair like a pro. I moan with pleasure, the intense feeling intimate and oh, so relaxing. I feel beloved, Adam’s touch and care for me romantic and tender. I don’t want it to end.
With gentleness, he tilts my head back and I keep my eyes closed, feeling another waterfall pour over my head. He repeats his process with conditioner, and when he’s finished, I sigh with gratitude. I look up at him with a satiated smile.
“That’s better.” He grins and lifts the edges of the towel up and over my head into a turban.
I stand, and he draws nearer to me, wiping rogue droplets of water back from my forehead with his thumb. “I love you, Adam,” I sigh, staring into his tawny eyes.
“I love you too, Angel Face.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Adam
