Page 83 of Courageous Hearts

That makes me smile. “Yeah. All right,” I answer, realizing I know exactly where to take him.

Sara is waiting when we step inside the kitchen, a welcoming grin on her face. I’ve barely finished introducing Jameson before she has him wrapped in her arms. Jameson hugs her right back.

“Oh, it’s so good to meet you,” my aunt says, stepping back.

“Likewise,” Jameson replies. “I’ve heard such good things from Bo.”

I leave them to it, the pair chatting happily, and head down the hall to wash my face. It only takes a minute, and once I’m done, I quickly apply a little makeup, feeling more myself again. Then I swing into the bedroom, rifling through my suitcase for something other than the sleep pants I couldn’t bring myself to change out of this morning. When my hand lands on an article of clothing I don’t remember packing, I huff a laugh.

“Dee,” I say to myself, pulling the long pink skirt loose. She must have snuck it in here before I left. “Perfect.”

Outfit in place, I head back to the kitchen. Sara gives me a soft smile, and Jameson’s eyes widen when he sees me. But he politely schools his features, probably not wanting to ogle me in front of my aunt.

“We’re gonna head into town for a bit,” I tell her, grabbing Jameson’s hand.

She nods, a smile sitting at the corner of her lips. “Have fun.”

We’re barely out the door when Jameson says, “Damn it, Bo. You look fantastic.”

Stopping, I tug Jameson to a halt beside me.

“What?” he asks in mild alarm.

I crush my mouth to his. Jameson lets out a sound of surprise, but he kisses me back instantly. Eagerly. We end up pressed against my rental car, both of us grappling against one another, hands roaming and grabbing and lighting a fire that quickly starts to spread out of control considering the circumstances.

“Jamie,” I groan. I never want to stop. I want to glue myself to this man. I want to connect myself to him in a way that’s permanent. I want to feel like this always. “I don’t want you seein’ other people anymore.”

Jameson’s breath hitches. “There’s no one else, Blue. Just you.”

I exhale in relief, nodding against Jameson’s forehead. “Can I call you my boyfriend, then?”

He draws back, smile blinding. “Yeah. I like that word a lot. Do you want to be my joyfriend or my partner?”

I let out a bark of surprised laughter. “You looked up ‘joyfriend?’”

He hums, thumb running along my jaw. I don’t know why I’m surprised that he found out the gender neutral term for boyfriend or girlfriend. Jameson has shown me time and again how thoughtful he is.

“Either one is fine with me,” I tell him, leaning into his touch. “So long as you’re mine.”

“Definitely yours,” he says softly, gaze intent.

I nod, slipping my hand down to his. “Then c’mon. Lemme show you my favorite place.”

Jameson gives my hand a squeeze before we separate to get into the rental car, and once buckled in, I pull us around, heading down the gravel drive that leads toward the road into town.

I meant to use this week to gain some distance from Jameson. To maybe gain some perspective. But the truth is I’m ridiculously glad he’s here. I don’t want distance, and I’m done second-guessing what we are.

Like Jameson said, there’s a whole wide world out there. And yet, somehow, he walked into my tiny corner of it and saw me. He saw me in a way so few have, and he chose me because of it.

Why should I question that? Why can’t I trust that what Jameson keeps telling me is the truth—that he wants me? Truly wants me?

The man flew here in a day because he knew I was hurting. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him how much I needed him here. It was too much to ask, too much to presume. But he heard without me saying the words. He knew, and he came.

I’m pretty sure I’m half in love with him already, if not more. I don’t think it would take much, closing that remaining stretch. Allowing myself to leap. I’m already falling, and I’m fairly certain Jameson will be there to catch me when I land.

Reaching over, I twine my hand with his as I pull out onto the dirt road. Dust kicks up around the car, and to our left, a field of prairie coneflowers paints the land in red and yellow. But it’s my boyfriend’s palm curled around my own that assures me, now more than ever, that I’m right where I’m meant to be.

Chapter 25

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