Page 78 of Under Pink Skies

“Before you invite me in, I need to say my piece,” I said. Connor glared at me, clearly not pleased with my decision, but inclined a hand toward me.

I opened my mouth to speak, and the words tumbled out.

“I’m a mess, Connor. My life is a mess. I don’t know what to do with my dad or the store or anything, but I know I want you. I want you in my life, whatever that looks like. I’m so tired of living a life you’re not in. I’m tired of running from you and the beautiful life we could have together if we justtry.”

Connor smiled at me, soft and warm and understanding. Those familiar butterflies of hope and desire fluttered low in my belly.

“I told you weeks ago, Abbie, I’m here for you. Whatever you need,” Connor said.

He stepped forward and took my face in his hands, stroking his thumbs over my cheekbones. With the rain, there was no deciphering the difference between the water and my tears, but he wiped them both away just the same.

“I don’t want you to love me because you pity me,” I whispered. Connor chuckled and took another step closer to me. The pine and citrus smell of him enveloped me. I knew in my bones that I would never let this man go again.

“You are the most stubborn, oblivious, infuriating woman I’ve ever met. I don’t love you because I pity you. I love you because even after all these years, you are the one person I want to see at the end of the day. You’re the person who feels like home. Even when we’re apart, the memory of you wakes me up, reminds me to push forward. I love you, Abbie Collins, not because I pity you, but because I admire you. I admire every part of you, even the dark things you keep hidden from everyone else. Because you’ve seen the darkness in me, but never turned away.”

A sob escaped me, and I closed the distance between us, pressing my face into his neck. He let out a low hiss at the damp cold now soaking his shirt. My apology came out muffled as he pulled me closer, resting his cheek against my wet hair.

“Sometimes you think I have things all figured out, but I don’t. I don’t haveanyof this figured out. Despite everything we’ve been through, we’re still young. We’re not supposed to have it all figured out. We still have time, and we can figure things out together. But I need you to trust me. No more pushing me out. No more hiding. No more running.”

“No more running,” I agreed, pulling my face away from his neck to meet his gaze. “Never again.”

“Never again,” he said, and lowered his head to kiss me.

I’d been kissed by Connor many times, but nothing had ever felt so full of promise, light, and acceptance. This was a kiss of truth, deeper than teenage promises and whispered dreams in the back of a pickup truck.

My hands sank into his hair, pressing our bodies closer together.

“Now, will you please come inside so we can finish what we’ve started?”

“First, I didn’t start anything, and second—”

Connor cut my words off with another kiss, walking us toward the door.

“Should have known you would argue with me,” Connor said, and lifted me up to spin me around. I threw my head back and laughed.

“You’re stuck with me, unfortunately.”

Connor put me back down on the porch, though his hands remained on my hips.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Epilogue

Connor

“Hi,Mom,”Abbiesaidas she knelt on the picnic blanket.

We had spread our picnic out beside Tilly’s gravestone. It was a beautiful February day—the earliest hints of spring approaching hung heavy in the air, a promise of warmer, longer days. Abbie wore a maroon, long-sleeved dress, and black lace tights that were becoming increasingly distracting. She reached for the basket and pushed it open, pulling out a tub of fruit. I laid down facing Abbie, my legs crossed at the ankles, my tan utility jacket unzipped and hanging loose around my chest.

“I brought strawberries, your favorite,” Abbie said as she removed the lid and pulled out a ripe berry. Her engagement ring glittered on her finger as she did so, and I smiled at the sight.

“So,” Abbie said, turning to Tilly. “We have some news to share. But first, I wanted to tell you about Dad. You already know about his accident. But I wanted to tell you he’s currently working through a recovery program and performing community service hours. He lucked out with an understanding judge and only had to spend a week in jail to help him ‘get his perspective straight.’” Abbie used air quotes for emphasis as she let out a quiet chuckle. “I’ve never seen him so excited about anything as he was when we went to pick him up after his release to take him to his recovery program.”

I smiled at the memory. I was the one to have a separate conversation with Malcolm about the resources that were available to him. He didn’t qualify for Winding Road, given that we primarily serve veterans and first responders, but he attended another program Kam recommended. The program was located on the Oregon coast, only a few hours by bus from Watford.

“Dad and I are working on things,” Abbie said quietly. “There’s a lot to unpack, but we’re both trying. I’m hopeful.”

Abbie ate another berry, her fingers twitching nervously as she reached for a napkin.

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