Page 18 of If You Never Come Back
I pour us both glasses. We take quiet sips. I swallow, then sip again. The burn finally fades, leaving behind warmth.
I clear my throat and turn to him. “Look, I know what you must be thinking—”
He grabs my hand. “I love that you drew me.” His words are like a glass of cold water after a crawl through the desert.
“You…you do?”
“Absolutely. I was just surprised at first because I figured it meant you felt something deep for me.” He pauses. “And I figured it meant we feel the same way about each other—because I feel something deep for you, Shay.”
“That’s exactly how I feel.” My heart races when I finally admit it out loud.
“I was just shocked in the moment, that’s why I left,” he says. “I couldn’t believe we felt the same way about each other. It was like it was too good to be true and I needed a minute to process it all.”
The sharp inhale I take through my open mouth nearly makes me cough.
“I’ve felt a connection with you from the get-go.” He raises his brow, and it’s the first hint of uncertainty I’ve seen in him all night. “I think you have, too?”
“Obviously.” A chuckle falls from my mouth. “I was drawing and painting pictures of you.”
He beams and leans over to cup my cheek in his hand. I let out a soft moan, holding my hand over his. We lower our hands to the space between us, our fingers intertwined.
Wes’s eyes bore into me. “I want to stay here in Bend for a while. I want to give us a shot, Shay.”
His last word is barely out before I lunge for him. My mouth is on his mouth before he can even wrap both arms around me.
“I want that too,” I say between kisses.
A million questions fly through my mind: What about the hike across the country he’s planned for so long? What will he do for work? Where will he live?
But every kiss erases those questions. Soon my mind and my body are filled with just him. My brain, my heart, can’t process anything else. Details don’t matter. Right now, we’re together. We’re giving this—we’re givingus—a proper shot. I don’t care about anything else.
Chapter Six
“You ready for your surprise?” Wes navigates my car around a sharp curve of highway.
“I’m ready,” I say.
Two months into Wes’s extended stay and we’re finally making it out to the nearby mountains for a hike. Ever since he made the decision to stay, he hasn’t been able to do much outdoor stuff. He’s been busy working and getting settled into his new living quarters: my apartment.
Gazing out the window, I smile to myself. Life details were easier to work out than expected. Finding work was easy. Colin hired him on as a project manager at his construction company and even offered to let him stay at his place. That wasn’t necessary, though, because I offered up my place the morning after our mutual confession of shared feelings.
Remy warned it might be a disaster to move in this soon, but it’s the one time he’s been wrong so far. Every day has been a dream. Waking up to the person you’re head over heels for, falling asleep cuddled into their perfect crook of an arm, is the exact opposite of a disaster. It’s the greatest feeling on Earth.
Wes pulls the car into a snowpark off the highway. During the winter months, people park here, then cross country ski along the nearby trails. Since it’s spring, there’s still snow on the ground, but enough has melted to do a short hike.
When we jump out of the car, Wes heads to the trunk, opens it, and pulls out my sketchpad and colored pencils.
“I’ve never seen you sketch a wilderness scene before,” he says. “I was hoping you could try that today.”
He leads me down the trail, which follows a creek. A half-mile later, we hit a waterfall. He points to a massive boulder sitting near the edge of the creek, just below the waterfall.
“How’s this for a spot to sketch?” he asks.
“Perfect.”
We sit side by side, and for an hour I sketch while Wes takes photos, then sits silently, gazing at the scenery around us. Behind the lush evergreen tree line sit majestic mountains, their peaks still coated in snow. It’s the exact scene I’m trying to capture in my signature style: the image in the center, taking up about two-thirds of the white space. The remaining white space that surrounds the image serves as an imaginary frame to make the image in the middle pop.
When I finish, he leans over to take a look. I could swear his eyes sparkle when they scan the paper. “Incredible.” He kisses my forehead.
