Page 77 of When The Mountains Held Us

“Alright, dumbasses,” Isaac calls, raising his voice louder than normal to be heard over the laughter.

I take a surly sip of my coffee, and Justin gives me a lighthearted punch on the shoulder before settling down and facing Isaac, everyone else quickly following suit.

“We’re going to be finishing up the paving on the road today. The guys brought in a night crew last night to keep the work flow moving, so we’re ahead of schedule. Something about the mayor wanting the project expedited. I know we’re all eager to get home, so let’s finish out strong today, and we’ll have you all back on the road by tonight. Sound good?”

We all voice our assent, and my stomach leaps at the prospect of having Oakley back in my arms. Isaac dismisses us, and we all head over to our respective jobs. Justin walks beside me, and I tuck my hard hat under one arm, holding my coffee with the other.

“Guess you’re gonna get to see your girl sooner than you thought.”

I nod. I should be bummed about the lost wages from losing the extra day, but Isaac always makes sure we’re taken care of. Even if we weren’t, though, it wouldn’t matter.

The only thing that matters is getting my hands back on Oakley as soon as possible.

Since the other night, and now last night too, it’s been even more impossible to get her out of my mind than it was before. I’d been drooling over her since she first stepped foot in town, but now that I know what it feels like to have her in my arms?

Yeah, there is no way she isn’t sitting pretty front and center in my mind every single second of the day now.

“I’m happy for you, man. You deserve this.”

Justin’s words catch me by surprise. Not because I don’t believe them, but because I do.

I’ve paid my penance for what I did to my father, and I hold no regrets in my heart for my actions. Oakley is like sunshine, and there’s not a corner of my heart that isn’t bathed in the blinding light of her smile.

Still, a small part of me wonders if what I did didn’t permanently blacken a piece of my soul.

“It sounds like Jessie’s rubbing off on you,” I observe, flipping the conversation back on him as we start our day.

We quickly fall into a familiar rhythm, one I’ve come to expect, and even enjoy, after working for years alongside my best friend.

“What makes you say that?”

Underneath the layer of confusion, there’s a hint of something else. Something raw and maybe even a little scared. I file that observation away for later, knowing that trying to push Justin to talk about something he doesn’t want to is like trying to bathe a cat—pointless and borderline suicidal.

I shrug nonchalantly as we begin to spread the blacktop out in even layers. “Nothing. Just sounds like something she would say.”

“Yeah.”

We fall silent, working quickly and methodically throughout the rest of the morning. We pause midday for lunch, all piling into Brandon’s truck and heading down the winding backroad to the only deli in town. We laugh and joke as we eat, busting each other’s chops like only a group of guys who’ve known each other for years can.

Before I know it, we’re back on the job. With each minute that passes, my nervous excitement to see my girl again bubbles closer and closer to the surface and threatens to spill over. My hands shake with the anticipation of touching her again, of skimming my calloused fingers across the creamy smooth skin of her back, leaving nothing but a blazing path of desire and goosebumps in their wake.

I’ve become addicted, haunted by eyes that look blue in the sunlight and gray in the evening, but constantly dance in my mind either way. I’m itching to hold her again, wrap her in my arms, and watch her body come alive as I stroke her delicate skin with my fingertips.

There’s so much I still want to do with her. To her. The sounds she makes are like my own personally crafted ambrosia, an overwhelming aphrodisiac that was made specifically for me and me alone.

The rest of the afternoon passes slowly, as if time is holding itself back now that I actually have a reason to want it to go by faster. I wipe the sweat off my brow with the bottom of my shirt before pulling out my cell. I look around quickly, knowing that Isaac will chew my ass out if he catches me, but the coast is clear. I bring up the message thread with Oakley and type out a text.

How’s your day going?

Three little bubbles pop up immediately, and I grin down at my phone while I wait for her response, which comes not a moment later.

Oakley

Be better if you were here. But it’s good. The bar called and said they double-scheduled me and Layla tonight and asked if I wanted the night off, so I took it.

That’s good. You deserve to relax. You work too hard.

Oakley