Page 85 of To Catch a Firefly

I clear my throat before answering. “Us.”

“Yeah?” Lucky asks, letting his camera hang loose around his neck as he steps close. A small group walks past us down the boardwalk, but once they’re gone, Lucky says in a low voice, “Us last night?”

My body flushes at the reminder, even as I shake my head. “Us tomorrow,” I tell him truthfully. “And…the next day. And the next.”

His breath leaves him in a rush as he looks up into my face, his eyes so light, it feels as if I can see right through them. “What do you see for us, El?”

How do I tell him I see everything? In my most vivid waking dreams, I see everything he’ll give me. A life with him, in whatever form that might take. Years of loving him because I know I’ll do that no matter what. I see snippets of days just like this one, where we hike or share meals or simply enjoy one another’s company. I seehim. Always him.

“Happiness,” I answer.

And that, Lucky doesn’t argue. He takes my hand, holding it tightly as we walk back down the boardwalk. It’s early evening when we arrive at the park’s entry point, having taken another scenic hiking route through the hardwood forests to get there. Despite the fact that we’ll need to grab dinner soon, I tug Lucky in the opposite direction of the truck.

“Where are you taking me now?” he asks, an amused smile on his face.

You’ll see.

He plants his feet when we arrive in front of the hayride station. “El,” he says, looking around at the families and kids waiting in line. “We’re not doing a hayride.”

Yes.

“Does that say ‘haunted?’” he asks, squinting at the sign. “What are we, ten?”

I pull out two tickets. “Already…paid for.”

He groans lowly, looking skyward for a moment as if asking for patience, but then he steps with me to the back of the line. “This is worse than the corn maze,” he mutters under his breath.

I can’t help but grin.

Lucky is determined to keep a scowl on his face as we board the haunted hayride, but it’s a poor scowl at best. The corners of his mouth keep lifting, and his hand tangles with mine, fingers softly brushing my own.

“This is so cheesy,” he whispers to me halfway through when a ghoul jumps out from behind a tree, causing a few of the kids to scream.

I squeeze his hand.

“Thank you,” he adds, head on my shoulder.

My lips curve into a smile.

When we leave the park, it’s dark out. We grab dinner to go, eating in the truck as I drive. It’s just after midnight when I pull into the driveway, and Lucky follows me inside my house without a word. I can see the lines of exhaustion on his face as we take a quick shower together, making sure to keep quiet so we don’t wake my mom. There are no wandering hands this time or steam-filled orgasms. Just washing and a few heated looks.

Lucky is the first to climb under the covers, dressed in long sleep pants but no shirt. He sighs, a happy sort of sound, his wet hair spread behind him on the pillow. I join him a moment later.

“You work this week,” he says, not a question.

Still, I nod.

His fingers play with mine. “I think I’ll spend some time with my mom while I’m here. I might even see if your mom wants to go to that vintage market a few towns over.”

“She’d like that,” I tell him.

“Me, too,” he says. “You never know what sort of things you’ll find in places like that. It’s like a treasure hunt. I’ll need to edit my pictures from Greenland at some point in the next few days, too, but that won’t take long.”

I brush an errant piece of hair behind his ear.

“I still need to show you those pictures,” he says, sounding sleepy.

I nod against my pillow.

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