Page 87 of Out of the Woods

“I could think of much nicer ways to spend my remaining free time.”

My smile widens. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

This makes him smile, too, something soft and tender. It’s the smile he gives me sometimes when he gets home from a long shift, or when he wakes up in the morning and finds me out on this rock. It’s the smile that means he’s remembering he’s not alone anymore, that even if one of us leaves, we will always come back together in this Airstream, wherever it’s parked.

“What about Maine?” I ask him. “Finley went once and said it was beautiful. Of course, it was summer then, but I bet it’s just as gorgeous in spring.”

“You’re not sick of seafood?”

“I’mneversick of seafood.” I’ve eaten my weight in crab and oysters washed down with white wine I don’t know enough about to appreciate. Maybe that’s something we can try to do together, my first attempt at a hobby that wouldn’t be on my own. I think it would be more fun like that.

He looks up at me where I’m perched on his lap. The sun is lighting up his cheeks, the cold staining them red. He looks beautiful with his messy hair and Fontana Lake eyes. When I look at him, I never feel far from home.

“I like the sound of Maine.” He leans forward, closing the distance between us, and presses a kiss to the tip of my chilled nose. “But really, Stevie, I’d go anywhere with you.”