Page 59 of Staying for You

I lick my lips and my knee bobs, the implication of what she’s whispering into the space between us thick and heavy. Do I want her to stay the night?

Yes.

“That’d be for the best,” I agree.

In the window, I can see her reflection. The smile that lights up her face and disappears just as quickly when she bites her lip.

“Why are you up here, Owen?”

She’s looking for truth. I asked her for the same and she gave it to me. Now it’s my turn. “I love it here. The Escape? It’s my mistress. I fell in love once. Or what I thought was love. She was my little sister’s friend and we dated under the radar for about six months.”

“Why under the radar?”

She makes her way back over to me and resumes sitting in the same way as earlier, offering me part of the blanket. I wave her off and answer her question. “I really don’t know. I was always kind of an ass about my little sister dating any of my friends then I became a hypocrite and started dating her friend. About six months in, Lily moved a few hours away and even though it was only for a short time, it still fizzled out.

“I hung on to the idea of us, but she didn’t. She was…” I pause, think about how I want to describe her without giving myself away. “Lily was someone I could see myself ending up with at one point in time, I suppose. But she would have hated it up here, which was really the only reason I was able to move on. Knowing how different we really are. She thrives on being social — not parties or anything like that. But she’s a social worker and having clients probably is a bonus for the job.” Cami rests her head against the back of the couch, eyes soft and full of understanding and so freaking pretty it’s hard to even remember having feelings for anyone else before her. I clear my throat. “Anyway, I realized she might have had a lot of the qualities I liked, but not the most important one.”

“Living here,” she says, knowingly.

“Living here,” I repeat.

She holds my eyes for one, two, three seconds before lifting her head and looking at the fireplace, blowing out a breath and says, “Well, there ya go.”

“Yup.”

“This Lily, did you ever invite her up here? Test it out?”

“Nah. I moved here, realized how much this place feels like home. Knew it wasn’t anything she’d enjoy for more than a long weekend and that was that. She got married a few years ago, she’s incredibly happy, has a kid. And I’m happy for her. Admittedly, right at first I was not,” the corner of my mouth ticks up, “but there’s no unrequited love there.”

I notice the fire is dying so I get up and add more wood into the fireplace then sit back down. This time a little closer, my arm stretches over the back of the couch in her direction and I play with her hair.

“What else?”

“What do you mean?” I murmur.

“About you… how did you grow up? Where? I want to know about you.”

“Oh you do, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Is this going to end up in one of your books one day?”

She’s coy when she responds with, “Maybe. Maybe not.”

I can’t deny her so I tell her about my childhood. Getting lost in the memories of quiet summer nights playing Ghost in the Graveyard with the neighborhood kids then catching fireflies in a mason jar and eating homemade ice cream. Having sledding parties in the winter in the parking lot of the grocery store right off the town square where the city piled up the snow then going in for hot chocolate and air popped popcorn. Running around under the bleachers at high school football games and riding bikes through town the second the temperature hit fifty-five degrees until we were exhausted and came home smelling of the outdoors.

I go on to tell her about my teen years when those bleachers I once played under, my parents sat in and cheered for me as I played defensive end on the football field. Those quiet summer nights were replaced with holding red plastic cups around a bonfire as music blared from the bed of a pickup truck. Sledding parties turned into someone pulling us around on a tube that was tied to the hitch and spring was spent fishing on farm ponds.

“My childhood and teen years were really great. Everything that I want one day for my kids and I hope to offer a little piece of to families who have forgotten what it means to return to their roots.”

“It sounds amazing.”

“It was. Though, I suppose that could sound like I’m stuck in my childhood, huh?”

“Not at all. To me, it sounds like you want to share a piece of that with others.”

“What about you?”

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