Page 88 of Axe-ing for Trouble
Icould get used to this.
We lay tangled in the sheets, my head resting on his chest, his hand stroking my hair.
Somehow, this moment felt more intimate than any of what we’d shared.
“This is nice.” He gently massaged my scalp, sending goose bumps skittering along my skin. “I wish we were in a luxury hotel in an exciting locale rather than stuck in my house.”
“I don’t mind being stuck with you.” I nuzzled against his neck, inhaling his warm scent. “But being trapped here has its challenges. I’m used to being on the move—traveling, working, running around with a backpack and a laptop.”
He let out a low rumble of understanding. “I can see that. I bet you are an incredible journalist.”
“Thank you. It was always my dream. Television was hard because of the hours and the travel, but I loved producing, and I loved searching for the stories and putting the pieces together.”
“Tell me about some of the places you’ve been.”
I sighed and closed my eyes. “I loved Japan. I was only there for a few days, but I would go back in a heartbeat. The culture, the architecture, the food.” I let my voice trail off. “But in reality, the job was not glamorous. Press isn’t always treated well, and I was sent to some scary places as well. Syria, Afghanistan, Yemen.”
“You’re so brave.”
My cheeks heated at that comment. “Not really. It was the job. I traveled with the crew and the talent, and it’s true what they say: there’s safety in numbers. Plus, we had security. But”—I shook my head—“I saw plenty of things I wish I hadn’t. There are incredible journalists out there who devote their lives to reporting from war zones and shining a light on the tragedies and injustices of our world. I admire them so much, but after a few years, I knew I had to pivot to a more traditional role.”
“There’s no shame in that. We’re allowed to grow and evolve. What I want for my life now, at thirty-four, is nothing like what I dreamed of when I was twenty-one. That doesn’t make me any less brave or brilliant.”
His words were simple, but they sent a shiver through me anyway.
He pulled the soft blanket up around us and gently shifted so we were even closer.
No one had ever described me as brave. Reckless? Yes. Crazy? All the time. But not brave.
“What about you?” I asked, desperate to change the subject. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those hard-core Mainers who’s never left the state.”
“God no.” He scoffed. “I’ve traveled around the US and Canada quite a bit. When Finn was in the Navy and stationed in Virginia, I’d drive down to visit. I’ve been out to Oregon a few times for timber industry stuff, and I’ve traveled all over the place to watch Cole play hockey. But I’d love to do more.”
“What other places do you want to see?”
He ran his fingers along my spine, the move sending another shiver through me. I curled up, throwing one leg over his.
“I’d go anywhere with you.”
My stomach flipped and my heart fluttered in a way I wasn’t sure I should allow.
“But my dream is Hawaii.”
Huh. Not what I expected. “I’ve never been.”
“Yeah, volcanoes and beaches and giant sea turtles. It’s far, but not that far, and so unique. I want to dig my toes into the sand and look out at beautiful blue water. Explore each island. Experience that kind of place.”
I closed my eyes and imagined it. I’d love that too. Beach and sunshine. No worries allowed. A handsome lumberjack available for sunscreen application would make it a dream vacation.
“We should go,” he said. “When this is over.”
It was a wild idea. A musing, not reality. It would never happen, but we held on to the vision of it for a few minutes. Letting the suggestion hang in the air while we clung to one another. Our situation was strange and undefined and precarious. But it was a relief to allow ourselves to pretend we were normal.
I yawned, the hour finally getting to me. “I wish we could transport ourselves to an alternate timeline. One where we’re normal.”
“Normal? Trouble, something tells me you’ve never been normal.”
A huff of a laugh escaped me. “You know what I mean. A world where we could date each other.”
