Page 38 of The Hang Up
“Just needed to talk to Wade.”
She nods and holds out the jar. “Want some?”
I take the spoon and set it aside before wrapping my arms around her and lifting her onto the counter.
She giggles as I step between her legs, her arms winding around my neck.
“What are you doing?” she asks, eyes gleaming.
“Kissing you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered.”
And I do. I kiss her like I’ve been starving for years, because in some ways, I have.
She tastes like peanut butter and something sweeter, something only she could ever give me.
When I finally pull back, we’re both breathless.
Her forehead rests against mine, our noses brushing.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
“I am now,” she whispers. “It’s still a lot. I feel like I’m walking out of a fog.”
“You are.”
She swallows hard. “I’m scared, Holden.”
“I know,” I say gently. “But I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever again.”
Tears well in her eyes, and I pull her into my chest, holding her like I can shield her from everything that’s ever hurt her.
We move to the couch and curl up together, her legs tangled with mine, her head resting on my shoulder.
We talk. About nothing. About everything. Where she might want to go back to school someday. How she wants to take a ceramics class with Arlowe to try something new. How she loves the way my house smells like cedar and coffee.
She laughs at my stories. I tease her about her inability to fold fitted sheets.
It feels like we’re building something permanent, one conversation at a time.
When the stars are bright outside and the house is still, I press a kiss to her temple.
“Come with me.”
She looks up, curious. “Where?”
“I want to show you something.”
She lets me pull her up, and we pad barefoot through the back door into the cool night air. The lake shimmers beyond the trees, and my workshop glows in the distance, soft yellow light leaking from the windows.
She smiles. “Your second home.”
I grin. “Something like that.”
I open the door and let her step inside first. She moves slowly, reverently, her eyes scanning the space.
And then she sees them.
Two rocking chairs, side by side. Smooth wood, curved arms, hand-carved slats. They match, but hers has a small heart carved into the top rail. Inside the heart are our initials: H + L.
