Page 122 of Sweet Like Whiskey

“Fucking fuck,” Ash says, his ass peeking out over the water. “I didn’t know it’d be so damn cold.”

“It’s nearly winter. Of course it’s cold.”

“Fuck,” he says again.

I laugh, a sound that takes Ash by surprise, if his grin is any indication. He walks over to me, arms out at his sides for balance, the base of his cock visible as he tries not to sink too far into the water.

“So what now?” he asks, beautiful and wet and so very mine.

“We look at the mountains and contemplate life,” I tell him.

“Is that what you did?” Ash asks, turning to the west and leaning against my side.

I nod, the both of us shivering. “It is.”

“All right, then.”

We’re quiet for half a minute before I say, “My mom used to tell me this story. About the sun. And the mountains.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

I nod, watching the color that’s bleeding across the sky. The sun is a small sliver of gold now above the mountain’s peak, casting everything in coppers and reds and even dusky purple. “She said the sun loved the mountains very much. Had since the beginning of time. But the mountains were stuck, you see. Forged in stone and bound to the earth, no matter how hard they tried to reach up into the sky. So the sun had to chase them. Every day. Every night.”

Ash hums, looking over at me, and I go on.

“So that’s exactly what the sun did. It flew across the sky, every day, every night, without fail, until it could be with the mountains again. When the world went dark, the sun and the mountains were together. They were one.”

Ash slips his hand into mine, his fingers chilled but his grip sure.

“It was just a bedtime story,” I say. “Meant to make me less afraid of the dark. But when I was scared or when I was sad, my mom would remind me that the sun was coming. That good things were ahead.”

I let out a breath and look to my side. Ash is watching me steadily.

“Youare my sun, Ash,” I tell him seriously. “My sunshine. My good thing ahead. Thank you for chasing me, even when I was being a stubborn ass about it.”

“Fuck, Jack,” he says quietly, tightening his grip in mine. “I…” He cuts off, huffing what might be a laugh and shaking his head. “When I came to Darling, I was singing this song. I remember because my car had just broken down, and Earl picked me up on the side of the road, and I was fairly sure I was going to die.”

My chuckle is hoarse, and Ash smiles, a gentle thing.

“So I remember that moment pretty well. It was Cat Stevens, the song. It felt fitting. Because I’d traveled west on the setting sun. And I never, not once, wanted water. I didn’t want that place I came from.”

He eases out a breath, and I swear I hold my own, my lungs needing his words like oxygen.

“I think I was born for this life, Jack. Maybe even born for you. Maine was never home for me. And I didn’t know what home was until I came here and saw those damn mountains. Until I found you.”

“Ash.”

“So if I’m your sun, then you’re my mountains, Jackson Darling. Any running I do will be to come home to you.”

My eyes prick, and I blink rapidly, that promise something I didn’t know I needed. It’s hard, sometimes, to let go of our hurt. To move past it. But Ash has made it easier. Whether it’s him orsimply him at the right time, I don’t know. I don’t think it much matters.

He’s here. He’s not going. Won’t ever go. I trust that. I just do.

I bring his hand up to my lips. “I wouldn’t have let you go. Not like he did.”

His eyes soften, understanding there. Ash isn’t my ex, no. And neither am I his.

“I would have fought for you,” I go on. “I willalwaysfight for you.”

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