Page 81 of Love Story

“Okay, but what nickname would you give me?”he asked.

I pretended to consider it, tapping my chin.“Let’s see… King of Darkness?Count Candy Corn?Fangs?Pumpkin Overlord?”

Ben laughed, his head tipping back.“Those are terrible.”

“Accurate,” I teased, poking him in the side.“Anyway, we’ve got to get ready.Haider will kill me if I’m late to his grandStar Warsspectacle.”

Ben smiled, leaning over to press a kiss to my shoulder.“Okay, okay.But if you call me Count Candy Corn in front of everyone, I’ll never forgive you.”

“You’ve got a deal,” I said, grinning as I stood and pulled on a hoodie.“But you’re coming.It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded.“As long as you’re sure, I’ll come.”

HAIDER WAS DECKEDout as Darth Vader, cape flowing, red lightsaber in hand, and his booming voice modulator announcing, “Your masks and weapons lie before you!”He’d brought a Jar Jar Binks mask ready for Ben, but he’d opted out of this madness and decided to sit on the bridge.A wise move, I thought.

We pulled on our masks and lit our plastic sabers.I was Anakin, Conor was Luke, and Ryan, always game for Haider’s antics, was Yoda.The fight started as playful nonsense, but things shifted when Haider, channeling Vader, growled something about weakness.Now into the act, Conor jabbed back, and Haider snapped.His blows grew harder, frustration boiling over.Ryan and I had to step in, wrestling the toy weapon from his hands.That was when Haider broke down—tears spilling, cape covering his face.

It broke my heart to see Haider like that—raw and hurting.None of us pushed him.Instead, we led him to the old elm tree where we’d had so many heart-to-hearts over the years.Under its dying branches, he opened up, spilling everything, and as his friends, we did our best to be there for him.I wanted him to feel the same happiness I’d found and seeing him so weighed down killed me.

By the time we returned to the bridge, the heavy mood had lifted—just a little.Haider, being Haider, had a way of bouncing back, at least on the surface.He was good at pretending, masking whatever lingered beneath with a smile and an easy laugh.We ditched theStar Warsgear in a messy pile by the road, stripped down to our briefs, and dove into the creek like we used to when we were kids.The water was ice-cold, but the laughter and splashing warmed everything up.As I watched Conor tackle Haider into the water and Ryan wade in with that crooked grin of his, I knew deep down that one day, they’d all find love the same as I had.They deserved that kind of joy.

Ben was sitting on the bank when I dragged myself out of the water, soaked and shivering.He reached for me, tugging me into his side as I winced.

“I’m wet,” I grumbled, half-heartedly trying to pull away.

“And now I’m wet,” he replied, completely, as if that settled the matter.He didn’t let me go.“Is Haider okay?”

I glanced over and saw Conor dunking Haider underwater while Ryan cheered.“He will be,” I said.

Ben’s fingers laced through mine, his touch steady, grounding me in a way nothing else could.I leaned into him, letting his arms fold around me like a shield against everything outside this moment.His embrace made me feel as if he’d hold me forever if I let him.

“I love you, Count Candy Corn,” I murmured, the words spilling from deep inside me.

His hands moved over my back, soothing me.He brushed lingering kisses across my cheek and temple, as though he could chase away every doubt I still carried.

He pulled back to look at me, his gaze warm and unwavering.Then, without a word, he reached for my shirt, helped me slip it on, and fastened the buttons.

“I love you, too,” he said, and it was enough to unravel me.His smile, filled with everything I didn’t know how to put into words, sent a deep, aching warmth through my chest.

The sound of laughter carried over from the creek, distant and carefree, but all I could focus on was him.Ben.The man who acted as if I were his entire world.

“Let’s go home,” I said, threading my fingers through his again.Home was my cabin, where he’d moved his life in, and made it his own.He was working in our shop, helping with people’s computers in town, working with me in the sugarbush, and telling me daily how happy he was.

“Home sounds good,” he said and squeezed my hand as we turned back toward the bridge.After a quick wave to the others and a promise we’d see them later for Conor’s party, we started walking, our steps slow and in sync.

We didn’t say much, but we didn’t need to.The warmth of his hand in mine and the quiet certainty in his presence was enough.And when we reached home, it wasn’t just a place.

It was me and him.

It was us.

Together.

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