Page 63 of The Forbidden Summer
Through the trees?—
The faintest glint of water.
The dock.
The cabin.
Still standing.
My throat thickens with emotion. Tears sting my eyes and then rush forth all at once. Relief, adrenaline, fear.Love.
I slam on the brakes and jump out before the truck even stops rolling.
“Père!” I scream, my voice ripping from my chest.
No answer.
The wind whistles through the trees. Smoke curls above the treetops, too close for comfort. I sprint toward the cabin, heart hammering.
“Père!” Louder this time, throat raw.
And then?—
The creak of the screen door.
A figure steps out onto the porch, silhouetted against the dying light.
It’s him.
It’shim.
I stumble up the steps, feet barely working, vision swimming. He’s there, standing like he can’t believe I’m real, like he’s afraid if he blinks, I’ll vanish.
“Van?” His voice cracks. It’s hoarse, like he hasn’t used it in days.
I don’t even try to answer. I just throw myself at him, arms wrapping tight around his middle. He catches me with a grunt, staggering back a step before clutching me just as hard. I feel his heart slamming against mine, wild and frantic.
“You’re okay,” I rasp against his chest. “God, you’re okay.”
His hands are everywhere—my back, my hair, my shoulders—like he’s reassuring himself I’m whole, like he can’t decide where to hold me first. I feel his mouth press into my hair, the side of my face, my temple.
“I tried to call—” I start.
“No service,” he murmurs into my skin. “Lines went down.”
I tighten my arms around him, desperate, aching. “I thought—” I choke, the words refusing to come.
“I know,” he whispers. “I know, sweetheart. I’m here. I’m right here.”
Hot tears soak my cheeks. I press my face into his neck, breathing him in—smoke and wood and home. His hands cradle my face, tipping it up so he can see me. His eyes are glassy, rimmed red.
“You came back for me,” he says like he can’t believe it.
“I never left you,” I say, voice trembling.
He kisses me then, hard and tender all at once, like he’s trying to pour everything he’s feeling into me—the fear, the relief, the love. I kiss him back just as fiercely, fingers threading into his hair, heart breaking and healing at the same time.
Behind us, the sky glows faintly orange at the edges, a reminder that the fire still burns somewhere out there. But here, in his arms, I’m safe. We’re safe.
