Page 47 of Heart So Hollow

My eyes dart back and forth between Bowen and the phone. My mind is filled with everything and nothing all at once. Just like when he showed up out of nowhere, I want to say a million things, but nothing comes out. He’s grinning, watching me like he’s waiting for me to get over myself and just agree.

“Black Canyon of the Gunnison.” Bowen closes the screen and sets the phone down. “I didn’t bother with the bigger parks. It’s too late to even get in now.”

I feel a small jolt in my chest.

Gunnison.

I’ve never been there, but I recognize the name…what are the odds? I try to suppress the slow drip of adrenaline pooling in the pit of my stomach.

Stop it! This is exciting. Don’t ruin it with your stupid memories.

“This one’s smaller and a lot less crowded,” Bowen continues. “It’s no Glacier or Yosemite, but I bet you’ll still like it. There are still woods to tramp around in,” he says with a wink.

I tamp down the intrusive thoughts and focus on Bowen’s face in an effort to quell the mental assault.

“What?” he smirks, “Got nothing to say now?”

“I…” I try to form words, but all I can manage is, “are you serious?”

I’m never impulsive. I don’t do things without meticulous planning and researching them to death. But, for some reason, Bowen and his invitation remind me of a time I wasn’t so structured and so…paranoid. I’m reminded of a time when I almost did do something impulsive, just because I wanted to, with someone who I just wanted to be with. And now I want to chase that feeling again.

He leans down, his nose almost touching mine, “Yes, I’m serious,” he whispers.

I just shake my head in disbelief, “Oh my god!” I blurt out, throwing my arms around his neck again.

Bowen bends down, grabs me under my thighs, and lifts me up onto the edge of the countertop, “Is this what I have to do—” he asks as he plants his hands on either side of my legs, “whenever we have a fight, I just buy you a trip somewhere?”

I shoot him a side-eye, “We’ve never had a real fight.”

“Just you wait,” he mutters, returning my look.

“We’ve also never had a real date,” I point out.

“We will on Sunday. A long one.”

He has an answer for everything, and I can’t say I mind at all. Then I pause, trying to decide how to ask the question that’s been gnawing at me since I turned around and saw him sitting next to me at Calhoun’s. And now, with what’s just happened, I need to know more than ever, but I don’t have a tactful way to ask.

Fuck it.

“Before I say anything more about this, I have to know,” I wag my finger back and forth in the space between us, “what is this?”

“What’s what?”

“What are we? Who am I to you—in regards to this trip and anything else?”

Bowen cocks his head, “You want me to label you?”

“Yes,” I say quickly, “some people don’t like labels, but I live by routines and organization and I need to know where I stand.”

And because I need a label for this new, nicely wrapped box I’ve found myself in now…

Bowen nods, running his hands up and down the tops of my thighs as he considers my request.

After a moment, he clasps his hands at the small of my back, pulling me closer, “You’re mine,” Bowen lowers his voice, “my girlfriend, my lover, my partner, whatever iteration of possession you prefer, legal or not. You told me, from your own mouth, that you’re mine,” he reaches up to hold the side of my face, “and I’m telling you now, it doesn’t matter if I’m gone for one minute or one year, I’ll always come back to you. Because I want you, I’ve chosen you, and,” he lowers his voice to a whisper, “I get what I fucking want.”

He’s definitive and aggressive and extreme and, against all logic, it reminds me of who I used to be. I feel like someone’s removed the cinderblock sitting on my chest for the past three years. I can breathe when I’m with Bowen and I’m afraid to stray too far or else I’ll drown again.

I reach up and grasp the sides of his face, “Sounds like we both get what we want.”

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