Page 94 of Every Thought Taken

As quickly as the question enters my thoughts, he releases my hips and steps back.

“I’ll get the grate.” He exits the side of the van and rounds the back, riffling through the storage beneath the bed. “And don’t worry about the chicken. I already cleaned and cut it.” Then he is next to the fire, setting up the grate and talking to a mesmerized Smoky as she eyes the fire.

I’m equally spellbound, but it has nothing to do with the fire.

If I owned a diary, today’s entry would read…

Dear Diary,

It’s day one of my trip with Anderson. Three hours after parking in the North Cascades, I wanted to kiss him. I want more than friendship already. But we’re starting over and friends don’t kiss. Not the way I want to kiss him. Ugh. Being in the friend zone sucks. Diary, this is going to be a long week. Wish me luck.

Love,

H

CHAPTER52

ANDERSON

Every morning this week, I’ve woken to Helena in my arms and Smoky curled up near my head on the pillow. During the first hour of each day, I bask in her warmth, her light, the feeling of her in my arms. Such a small act, but damn, does it hold tremendous power.

Beside my head, Smoky stirs, stretching her little limbs and curling her nails in my hair. Purring filters through the van as she scoots closer and kneads my scalp. Thankfully, Helena trims her nails often enough the action feels more like a massage than acupuncture.

I have never owned a pet, but if I did, I’d want one like Smoky. Adorable as hell, road trip ready, and curious.

On a couple of our longer hikes, she happily sat in the travel backpack. Eyes constantly on the move, she refused to miss a single bit of our excursions. On the shorter trails, she walked beside us, little nose smelling the earth and plants as often as possible.

Lifting a hand over my head, I give her a scratch behind the ears. “Last day, little one,” I whisper. She twists her head and gives me all the places she wants scratched. I pull my hand away and she nudges my head, something I’ve learned is her way of asking for more. “Greedy.”

Helena stirs at my side, her arm around my waist tightening a beat before her hand trails up my chest. Her head nestled in the crook of my neck, inches closer, nuzzling.

Fuck, I am going to miss this.

It took twenty-four hours for Helena to let down her guard. Though this is the most physically intimate we’ve been during the trip, the emotional intimacy has been off the charts. I can’t not be close to her.

When we leave the park today, I refuse to let things go back to the way they were. I refuse to not be close to her.

“Don’t wanna,” she mumbles against my skin.

I tighten my arm banded around her middle and hug her closer. Without hesitation, I press my lips to her crown. “Me either,” I reply, unsure if she means getting up or leaving this afternoon. Regardless, my answer is the same.

Smoky crawls across the pillow and nudges Helena, her scratchy meow saying either “me too” or “feed me.” Not sure which.

Helena inches away from my side and pushes up on her elbow. Giving Smoky a thorough head scratching, she sits up and stretches her arms. And like every other morning, Smoky plods across the bed and rubs against Helena, purring and mewling.

“I’m getting up, little one.” Helena twists and hops off the bed, Smoky following her. Adding a scoop of food to her bowl, she pours a small amount of water on top, then sets the bowl down near the passenger seat.

As for me, I remain frozen beneath the covers, my eyes on Helena.

Damn, I really missed her. Missed us.

This week has been beyond great, yet nowhere near enough. The old photo of us stashed in the glove box is no longer enough. I want more. Ineedmore.

More easy mornings in each other’s arms. Her sweet floral and amber scent in the air and on my skin. Soft words and gentle caresses as we linger in the same space. Breakfasts in bed and dinners on the couch with our favorite movies or shows on the television. Walks in the park or lakeside near the lavender fields. Trips on days off and vacations out of town. Laughter and love and making new memories. Birthdays in the woods with roasted marshmallows and s’mores instead of cake. Sunrise hikes and sunset cuddles. Nights side by side as we look up at the stars.

I want more, but know I need to not rush this. Rush us. The last time I wanted the next step with Helena, we took it. For a short time, our relationship felt indestructible. Unfortunately, the foundation beneath us had been molded by others. And when it shook hard enough, our world was flipped upside down.

Before we take that step again, I want reassurance. I returned to Lake Lavender to right my wrongs and mend old wounds. Over the past week, my Helena-shaped scars have become distant memories. They are no longer painful, angry reminders of the worst time in my life. Now, they are a symbol of the trials I survived.

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