Page 78 of When The Mountains Held Us

Says the man who works dawn to dusk every day doing… whatever road construction workers do. Build bridges? Pave roads? Unclear.

Pretty much. But still, I’m glad you’ll get to relax.

Oakley

Me too. Jessie’s still here too. We might have had a little too much wine last night, so we’re both nursing some pretty nasty hangovers

How much is too much wine?

Oakley

Would you judge us if I said two and a half bottles?

Sheesh, it’s a miracle you’re both still alive, let alone conscious. I’m glad you had fun.

Oakley

Me too. Feels good to have a girlfriend like her, even if I was hesitant at first.

“Levi, I can see your stupid lovestruck smile from here! Put the phone away so we can finish up and get the hell out of here!”

I jump a little at the sound of Isaac’s voice, but manage to type out one more quick text before pocketing my cell.

Gotta go. Isaac’s gonna have a coronary if he catches me with my phone out again. Talk to you soon, darlin’.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her that I’ll be coming home tonight instead of tomorrow, but something holds me back, loving the idea of surprising her by just showing up. Hopefully, I don’t scare the shit out of her by walking in later.

She’s been doing well in the weeks since moving in, and I think she’s finally adjusting and starting to see the house as her own. That was part of the reason I was so happy to hear that Jessie was coming over last night. If she invited someone over, that means she truly feels like the place is hers, too.

The next few hours pass with little fanfare, Brandon and Justin bickering back and forth with each other as we all try to hurry up and finish the task at hand, not wanting to give the other crew the chance to change their mind and ask us to stay.

Luckily, we’re able to finish out the road paving, and before I know it, I’m throwing my vest and hat into the bed of the truck and climbing behind the steering wheel. I drum the wheel with a nervous excited energy as I wait for Justin to finish throwing his stuff in the back. When he climbs in, his gaze zeroes in on my fingers as they continue to beat a steady pattern into the leather.

“Want me to drive home?” he asks, but I immediately shake my head.

“Nah, I’m good. Ready to go?” He nods, and we take off down the road in the direction of the highway.

I appreciate Justin’s offer, but I’m too amped up right now, and just sitting in the passenger seat for the three-hour drive would drive me nuts. Already, anticipation is twisting in my gut as the clock drags out the countdown until I see her again. It takes forever to make it to the highway on-ramp, but once we merge, I floor the gas, thankful to be moving more than forty-five miles per hour.

The wind whistles through the cracked windows, the breeze chilling the sweat still lingering on my skin. I don’t know how much time passes when Justin speaks up from beside me.

“You alright, man? You seem on edge.”

“I’m fine. Ready to get home.” It’s the truth, but has more to do with getting to my girl than getting home.

I think Justin reads between the lines on this one, based on the knowing look he shoots at me.

“How’s it going with Oakley, anyway? I mean, I know you guys are… I mean, things have… progressed. Can we expect wedding bells in the near future?”

The statement feels so absurd that I burst out a short, hollow laugh and shove my friend’s shoulder.

In reality, the idea of marrying Oakley is the polar opposite of absurd. What’s absurd is the fact that I’ve already entertained the idea far more than I should, considering I’ve known the girl for a few weeks at most.

We’re not there yet, not by a long shot.

And then there’s the darker side of my resignation. The side that tells me I’m not worth marrying. That she deserves so much better than me. No matter how hard I fight to banish the guilt that festered and flourished in the years following my final encounter with my father, it’s always there, ever-present in some shadowed corner of my soul.

“That might be pushing it,” I respond, attempting to make light of the question, when, in reality, I’m drowning in the memories of that night.