Page 69 of Those Two Words

“I told her to hang around. She seemed pretty eager to head out, saying she was tired or something, but she looked upset. You might catch her if you hurry.”

I’m already sprinting toward the parking lot before he’s finished his sentence. There must be hundreds of cars here and I scan the crowd of people. When I spot a flash of blonde, I race in that direction and call her name. I know she can hear me, but her steps quicken, like she’s trying to escape me.

Reaching her, I take hold of her wrist and stop her attempt at fleeing. “Hey, where are you going?”

“Home, I’m exhausted. Raincheck on the Ferris wheel?” I can’t see her face, but something about her body language has changed, nothing like the playful Johanna I was talking to earlier.

I know that Jo tends to take herself away when she needs space. I get it, it’s just, I want to be that space, and for her to need me in those moments. I want her to lean on me and talk about how she’s feeling, or hold her when it becomes too much.

I’ve begun to pick up on the moments when her anxiety shows, and this isn’t one of them, this is something different. I don’t want to push her, but I’m also not leaving her right now.

“C’mon.” I tug her in the direction of my truck on the other side of the lot.

“Patrick, I’m not in the mood for the fairground.” Even with a tired sigh, she follows me.

“That’s not where we’re headed. I know somewhere that’ll be quiet right now. If you need some peace, I can help you find that, just let me be there next to you. We said we’d try right? Well, we need to trust one another, so trust me.” I turn to her, and we stop walking. “If you don’t want to talk, then we won’t. I think you’re gonna like where we’re going though.”

She gives it a few seconds to think it over, then nods her head and walks ahead to climb into my truck.

Once we’re out of the parking lot, I drive about ten miles north. The lush canopy traps out the sun, creating a whimsical vibe as we drive down the windy roads curving with the coastline. The tree line ends suddenly, and the road in front of us opens to reveal the endless view of the bay and the vast open ocean. Deep green is replaced with vibrant blue as the water reflects the cloudless sky. We’re right on the cusp of Acadia National Park here, and Puffin Point Lighthouse sits on a small, rocky peninsula between the park and Piper Beach.

Jo hasn’t said much since we started driving, and I’ve let her enjoy the silence. Her head rests against the passenger window, watching the landscape pass us by. Once we drive onto the small sliver of land, the waves crashing around us coat the windows in sea spray.

I park the truck in the small lot at the base of the lighthouse and as I suspected, there’s no one else in sight. Turning off the engine, I climb out, Jo following silently behind me as we round the whitewash base of the lighthouse. The red rings traveling up the cylinder building need a new coat of paint. It’s no longer in use anymore, more of a tourist attraction than anything. I walk a little ahead and stop until I can’t walk any farther. The light spray of water hitting my face and the taste of salt on my lips is refreshing.

Jo stops a few feet behind me, the loose strands blowing in all directions. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath when a strong gust of wind sweeps over us.She looks perfect, standing here with the salty air blowing through her hair and a warm glow painting her cheeks.

“Is Lottie okay?” she asks.

“She’s fine. I think I panicked more than her, so it freaked her out.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Her apology has me jolting in confusion. “What are you sorry for?” I ask. I take a step closer to her and she opens her eyes then, guilt swimming in those deep blues.

“I distracted you when you were meant to be watching her.”

“Whoa, whoa.” I grab her shoulders before she has the chance to turn away. “I’m pretty sure I was the one who walked up to you and did the distracting.”

“That doesn’t matter. I never want to be the reason that your priorities shift away from her. I was relieved when Carrie came over with her but then I saw you all together and it looked like…”

“Looked like what?”

“It’s stupid of me, never mind.”

“No, I want to know.” I’m not letting this drop, needing to know what changed from when we were flirting behind the table to now.

“You looked happy, and I was”—she throws her head back and blows out a breath, hands slapping at her sides— “I was jealous, okay?”

I look at this woman. Really look at her.

This beautiful and complex creature who wears her heart on her sleeve yet at the same time bottles so much up, hiding herself from the world. I hate that she feels the need to keep everything locked up, and that she has any reason to be jealous. I thought we were past that.

It’s clear she needs reminding that there’s no one else who can enrapture me half the way she does.

I do just that as I pull her into my chest, grab hold of her shocked face, and seal my mouth over hers.

twenty-nine

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