Page 54 of The Soulmate Theory

“What do you mean?”

I sighed, still playing with his fingers. “I have a tendency to overinflate. Overthink. Overstress. Over worry. Then, I find myself floating up into space, trapped within the chaos of my own mind. I might do that, with us.”

He was quiet for a second. He brought his mouth against my ear, moving his hand away from mine so he could brush my hair away from my face. His lips tickled my temple again as he whispered, “And I have a tendency to drown beneath the pressure of mine. So let us be the tether that ties each other back to earth.”

I scrambled out of his embrace so I could turn and face him. Sitting up on my knees between his legs, I leveled my face with his. I could feel tears brimming behind my eyes. That tether he spoke of swirled within my stomach, my chest, my heart. He watched me intently, seeming content with the amount of time I was taking to respond.

I placed a hand on the side of his face, studying his eyes. He was beautiful. Not just in his skin, his face, or his body. Not just in the way he made me feel. He was beautiful into the very depths of his soul. He was all that was good and kind. Pure and free. More than I ever thought he’d become. More than I could’ve ever imagined for myself. More than I deserved.

I placed my other hand against his chest, right over his heart. I leaned into him, sealing my mouth over his. The moment the contact was made, I had let go. Let go of my heart, giving it to him entirely. Every wall broke down within me. I could almost feel the tether solidifying between us. His hands held my waist, mine held his face. I was grounded. I was understood. Anchored.

And despite what we had just agreed upon, I didn’t care who saw us. I was ready to shout it from the literal rooftop in which we were sitting. I was his. He was mine.

My mother shouted that dinner was ready through my closed bedroom door, forcing us apart. His knuckles brushed against my cheek bone, and he smiled at me. One of those smiles that could knock the wind out of the woman receiving them, but even more so. An expression so reserved, I wondered if he’d ever given it to anyone else. It was adoring, raw,love.

He nodded toward the window behind him. “Go spend time with your family.” I shook my head. I could miss dinner. I could sneak away with him. Spend the night with him, even. I wanted to.Neededto. I opened my mouth to protest but he cut me off, “Go spend time with your family, because tomorrow I’m stealing you away.”

My mouth shut and I flicked my brow. “Are you?”

He smashed his mouth against mine once more. Brisk and effortless. Unworried. As if he’d done it a thousand times before, and he’d do it at least a million more. He lifted me off him and stood up, trudging over to the ledge of the roof. “Yep. Meet me outside at six o’clock tomorrow morning.”

I groaned and he laughed. “It’s kind of a work thing. I’ve got to get out there when the lighting is right, before the sun gets too high. Plus, it’s supposed to rain tomorrow afternoon.”

I huffed but nodded. “Can you at least not scale the house again? Just go inside and down the stairs. Please.”

He squatted down at the edge of the roof before turning back at me. “And explain to your parents how I got into your bedroom in the first place?”

He flipped around and swung the lower half of his body over the edge of the house, holding himself up by his arms. “I’ll be fine.” He smiled arrogantly. “Watch.” Then, dipping below the roof, he disappeared from sight. I walked to the edge and peered down. He was scaling down the trellis as if it was a ladder. Within a moment, his feet were back on the ground and he was staring up at me, smirking.

“Night, Pep.” He winked.

? ? ?

My alarm sounded at exactly five-forty-five in the morning. I’d texted Carter the night before, asking for hints as to what we’d be doing so I could be prepared. He told me we were going somewhere called Opal Creek but demanded that I not research it. Ithadto be a surprise.

I quickly readied myself, unsure of what I was supposed to wear. I had a feeling hiking would be involved. I threw on a pair of leggings, a tank top with a knit sweater over it, and boots. I thought the boots may not be necessary, but I made the mistake of wearing sneakers during a family hike a few years ago where I slipped and severely bruised my tailbone. Even in early April, without knowing where we were going, I couldn’t rule out the possibility of snow or ice in the Cascades. I also grabbed the copy of the book Carter had loaned me so I could return it. I left a note for my parents, informing them I was going hiking with Carter.And Macie. I had added as to not sound suspicious.

As I quietly slipped out my front door, I couldn’t help but spend a moment taking him in. He was standing against his truck, looking down at his phone. He was wearing a flannel, rolled up to the elbows. I allowed my eyes to roam his legs underneath the faded jeans. He too had on hiking boots, and a large camera bag wrapped around his chest. He ran a hand through his curls, allowing them to hang off his forehead limply. I took a breath in and bounced across the street. He smiled as I climbed into the passenger seat of his Bronco.

We headed south down the Oregon Coast Highway from Brighton Bay, other than our current direction, I had no clue where we were headed. We turned east down Highway 26 toward Portland. The small beach towns slowly turned into scattered residences as we descended into the Coastal Range. Soon, the residences disappeared too, and the highway became narrow, winding through the canyons. Tunnels of trees towered over us on both sides of the road, their silhouettes faintly visible in the rising sun and still dripping with last night’s rain. “I like the woods,” I said. “I know there are woods—forests—everywhere. But something about it is different here. Like, this is what the forest is supposed to feel and look like. So mossy and wet. It’s pretty.”

“Because these forests are your home, Pep.”

“It never really felt like home growing up. It was just where I lived. It’s not like I could go anywhere else. I didn’t choose Brighton Bay. It’s just where I was. I didn’t even think I’d miss it when I went to college.”

He frowned.

I found myself continuing, “After I’d been in England for about a month, I got so homesick. Like, physically sick. My anxiety was at an all-time high and couldn’t keep any food down. I didn’t realize it rained so much over there. Maybe even as much as it rains here. At first that annoyed me, because I wanted out of it. I’ve never liked rain. Then, after I started getting really homesick, I thought it would be comforting. But it wasn’t. The rain was different. I hated the rain more there than I ever did here. There was even one point, my first Thanksgiving over there, that I actually took the train from Oxford to Heathrow. I called my dad and I told him I was getting on a plane and coming home.”

“I don’t remember you coming home that first year.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t. My parents knew I’d been homesick those first few months. They kept telling me to stay, promising it’d get better. When I called my dad, I think he heard the desperation in my voice because for once he didn’t argue with me. He just said, ‘Okay, Penny.’ Then, he added, ‘Carter is here too.’ And I don’t know why he said it. I know he didn’t know anything had happened between us. I didn’t know if he thought I’d find that to be good news or bad, but he just said it.” He took his eyes off the road, only for a moment, to glance at me. “I stepped off the train and got immediately on another one back to Oxford.”

“You didn’t want to see me?”

“The issue was that Ididwant to see you. I wanted to see you more than anyone else. I couldn’t see you. If I’d gone home then, if I had seen you—been with you—I wouldn’t have been able to come back. Leaving you after the graduation party broke my heart. I wasn’t strong enough to do it again.”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t take his eyes off the road. His right hand leaned over the center console and found mine resting on my thigh. He folded his hand over mine and squeezed it. After a moment, he asked, “Does it still feel that way? Like it’s not home?”

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