Page 58 of Switched At Birth

Noah

Six weeks.I’ve been with Ashton for six weeks. I look over at Ash, his eyes on the road leading to Maple Falls. I prefer to take Highway 9, then the I-5; that way we can pass through cozy towns.

“It may still be a little cold to do a lot outside, but my favorite place is called Artist’s Trail. We should be able to go on a small hike, depending how much of it is opened.””

“I have three days in the wilderness with my man. I don’t need to be entertained.” He never takes his eyes off the outdoors.

“Did I tell you there’s a hot tub?” He shoots his attention to me, and I waggle my eyes.

“I didn’t bring my swim trunks.”

“Babe, you don’t need your trunks,” I reassure him, his smile growing at the idea.

“I guess you’re right. So, tell me about this place. What’s the name of the town again?”

“It’s called Maple Falls. You blink, you miss it. It’s small, but the cabin is about ten miles from it. Grandpa made it our own little retreat. We’re not far from a waterfall and a creek. There’s a freestanding covered picnic area, with an outdoor kitchen. Throughout the years he added things, like a treehouse for Liam and I, but I’d not trust the structural integrity at this point. There’s a zip line. However, I’d say the same thing about that too. It’s all stuff we want to fix before we have families of our own. The house is open, like my loft, and has a room over the main living area. We want to build another structure, where I can have you and Liam can have whoever the fuck he’s dating up here at the same time.”

“Liam won the bet, about not dating anyone, didn’t he?” Ash asks.

“Thanks for reminding me. I gave him six weeks. And he made it. Fucker. Now I’m out a hundred dollars.” Ash starts to laugh at me. I love how easy going we are together.

“What’s your best memory with your grandpa here?” he asks, moving his hand to my knee.

“Wow, there are so many wonderful memories. He started bringing us up here when we were seven. We lived in Issaquah at the time. Grandma, who was our mom’s mom, had died the year before. Grandma and Grandpa loved this area and wanted to retire here. They saved to build their dream retirement home. One day Grandma was fine, and the next, she was diagnosed with cancer. She was gone in five weeks. It may be one reason our mom never wanted to be a part of this place. It reminded her too much of her mother. Anyway, his needs changed when Grandma died, and because Olympia was the last place he lived with Grandma, he couldn’t sell the house. He had the A-frame cabin built, adding to the property each year.”

“Fuck, Noah. I’m so sorry. That’s a horribly sad story.”

“I don’t remember much about my grandma because I was barely seven, if that. I’d say the best memories with our Gramps was sitting out over the open fire at night. We’d cook hotdogs and s’mores—as long as we didn’t tell Mom. And Grandpa was the best storyteller. He gave us the gift of knowing our grandma through stories, and understanding mom a little bit better. She’s an only kid, so when he died, it was the last of her first family, as she called her parents. So, those stories were the best memories. And guess what? The fire pit has improved over the years, and tonight we’re having hotdogs, baked beans, and s’mores for dinner. Hope that’s okay?”

He has been hanging on every word I’ve said. “That is the sweetest thing. And I never thought hotdogs and baked beans could be romantic, until now. I want no other meal.”

Ash’s radiant smile stays on me, his fingers massaging my neck. “What?” I ask.

“I’m just watching you. You’re my favorite view in this world.”

“Ditto, honey. Always you.”

We park in the back, nearest the door leading to the kitchen. It’s easier to unload the groceries and our suitcases.

Because we enter from the back door, the first thing we see is the large A-frame windows that look out into the wilderness. “Holy fuck. If I were you, I’d lock myself in this place and paint for months.”

“I’ve been known to disappear a time or two and do that, but now, my studio in my loft, looking out over Seattle, gives me all the feels.”

But it doesn’t stop me from wrapping my arms around his waist, his body looking out, and my chin on his shoulder, watching what he’s currently watching.

“What is the first thing we should do?” he asks.

I have an idea. “It’s a little chilly still, but I want to take you down to the creek. Don’t worry,” I say working kisses up and down his neck. “I won’t toss you in.”

We make quick work of our jackets, gloves, and hats. It may be the middle of April but we’re not far from the Canadian border.

“You sure you’re not going to toss me in, babe?” Ash asks, nuzzling into my neck.

I peek through the trees that open up to the creek, and it’s still here. I didn’t know if it still was. I point to a metal park bench, big enough to seat the both of us.

“My grandfather installed this the first year we came up here.” I point to the cement that holds the bench. On it is a plaque.

For my Bonnie. This is the place I’ll always meet you.

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