Page 155 of Always Meant for You
“I can’t find my bra.”
“You’ll have to leave it.”
“That’s my favorite one.”
“We’ll come back for it.”
“But what if Mr. Stewart finds it?”
She has a point.
The light grows brighter, and he fires again.
Mabel ducks into the grass, then pops up, holding the bra in triumph. “Found it!”
She waves it like a flag. My heart seizes. “I’m glad. Now, get down!”
“This is private land! Who’s out there?” Stewart shouts.
We take off, crashing through the tall grass, half-dressed and soaked, hearts pounding in rhythm. Our hands find each other in the dark, fingers lacing tight. I glance at her. Her face is lit with laughter. I squeeze her hand, guiding her over the dips in the ground.
We reach the truck, breathless and wide-eyed. I steady her as she slides in. She’s still laughing, her cheeks flushed, hair dripping.
“You okay?” I ask, moving in beside her.
She tilts her head back. “I’ve never felt more alive.”
“Let’s keep it that way.”
I fumble with the keys, then fire up the engine. The tires kick back debris as we surge forward, headlights cutting through the trees. Mabel’s got one hand pressed to her chest, the other still tangled in mine. Her smile hasn’t faded. And God, I want to hold this moment forever.
After a mile, I pull off at a clearing, headlights washing over wild grass and scattered fence posts. I cut the engine.
“Why are we stopping?” she asks, breathless and glowing.
Her M charm glints in the moonlight.
It’s a sign—a push.
I drink her in, my heart still hammering from everything we shared beneath the stars. The creek, the laughter, the rush of running half-dressed through the dark. My pulse hasn’t caught up, but it’s not fear keeping it raised—it’s her. The look on her face. The way she fits against me like she belongs there. Gratitude surges so strongly that it robs me of breath. This isn’t infatuation. It’s older. It’s deeper. It’s true love.
“I need to say something,” I manage, my throat tight.
She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t rush me. She gives me the kind of silence that feels sacred.
“With you, I feel stronger. Steadier. Like I can face things I never thought I could.”
She lifts my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles. “I feel the same.”
“You mean that?”
“I do.”
I lean in and kiss her, slow and sure, hoping the words I can’t yet say thread their way into the touch. She lets me. She meets me there, warm and open, and for one long beat, I think maybe I could live inside this moment forever.
Then my phone pings.
She laughs, breath catching. “I bet it’s Mr. Stewart.”
