“And hope you can.”
Silence settles again, this one heavier, but not uncomfortable.
We leave the falls behind and keep riding. I don’t want to go home yet, so I turn us toward a gravel road I noticed earlier. Snakehead Lake.
We pull in and cut the engines. I notice a fallen log sitting near the shore, and I head to it, sitting down, Eli beside me.
The sun drops behind the mountains, turning the lake to gold and fire. Neither of us speaks for a while.
Then I break the silence. “After a bad day, I used to just ride. Hours at a time. Didn’t matter where.”
Eli tilts his head. “Running away?”
A short laugh slips out of me.
“Maybe.”
The water laps quietly against the shore.
“More like remembering who I was. Just me, the bike, and open road.”
Eli nods slowly.
“I know that feeling.”
His eyes return to the sunset, and for a while, we sit in silence. Then he speaks quietly.
“I forgot people lived like this,” he says.
I look at him. “Like what?”
A faint, sad smile touches his mouth.
“Without being scared all the time.”
He keeps watching the sun sink. Then he shifts closer and wraps his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder as if it belongs there.
My breath stutters. The weight of him against me feels right in a way I’m not ready for.
I don’t move away. My hand settles on his knee, and we stay like that until the light fades.
By the time we get home, neither of us feels like cooking, so I order Thai from the place down the road.
We eat cross-legged on the lounge floor, cartons spread between us, stealing from each other without thinking.
The conversation is lighter tonight. Finn’s terrible jokes. Deck being impossible. The ride.
Eli laughs more than once, and every time it catches me off guard in the same way. We clear the cartons and throw on a movie neither of us watches.
Somewhere between conversation and silence, Eli leans into my shoulder where, a few minutes later, his breathing evens out. His body goes soft.
He falls asleep like he’s finally somewhere he doesn’t have to stay alert. Something inside me settles. Quiet. Certain. I don’t move, afraid I’ll break whatever peace he’s found.
12
CJ
After Eli falls asleep on my shoulder, I can’t bring myself to wake him. I know he needs the sleep; The shadows beneath his eyes make that obvious.
