Page 100 of The Bro Pact
I am dead on my feet.
Collapsing in bed, I crawl under the covers, reaching out into the darkness for Ren’s hand. I find it, gently lifting his fingers and placing a soft kiss on top of his knuckles. “Thank you.For today, and every day before it.” I kiss his hand again, and we just lie here, luxuriating in the feel of each other’s presence.
The remainder of our trip flies by faster than I want it to, filled with more epicness, like an Alcatraz ghost tour, a sunset cruise around the Golden Gate Bridge, and finally the gorgeous redwoods of Muir Woods.
Our string light timeline is complete, and we stare at it with pride after Warren clips up the last photo of us smiling in front of a massive redwood.
“It’s perfect,” he sighs, stepping back into my arms.
I curl around him, whispering into his ear. “It is. It’s amazing, Ren. Have you thought about that blog anymore? I’m telling you, it would be a hit.I know it.”
Warren ignores me, slipping out of my arms and jumping into the driver’s seat, so I climb up front after him.
He drums his fingers against the steering wheel, thinking hard. “If I decide to do it, do I have permission to use photos of you?”
“Yes, of course. Any of them.” I glance back at the string lights, smiling at our journey and how far we’ve come.
“I’ll think about it.”
That’s what Ren likes to say when he’s brushing something or someone off, but I don’t push.
“Ready to go home?” he asks, changing the subject.
“No, not really. But we don’t have a choice this time, do we?” I sigh, resigned to my fate of summer school in Colorado.
“Unfortunately, no. Although, I suppose we could grab lunch one last time before we hit the road,” Ren offers with a handsome little grin.
I return his smile and nod. I’m always ready to eat.
We don’t get on the highway until we absolutely have to, driving straight back to Haven Creek and only stopping a handful of times during the nearly twenty-hour trip.
There’s definitely an elephant in the RV that neither of us seems to have the courage to address. Along with a hoard of questions that won’t stop buzzing around my head like a swarm of annoying gnats.
What will it be like when we return to the real world?
Swat.
Will we keep messing around until the pact ends?
Swat.
Or do things end the moment we step off the RV?
Swat.
Was this happiness too good to be true?
I turn up the stereo, blasting one of Ren’s pop songs and attempting to drown out the questions and distract my mind from whatever the future holds.
All I know is that if things end up going south, I’ll lose my best friend, too.
And that wouldn’t just be devastating.
It would be catastrophic.
I can’t imagine my life without Warren in it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
