Page 108 of How You See Me
I grimace. “Itwaspainful.”
After dressing in the clothes we left piled on the floor, I climb up to the roof, then help her do the same. Once she’s snug between my legs, leaning back against my chest, she goes still.
The view is even better than I imagined.
The desert stretches out endlessly before us, washed in silver from the full moon. The Sandia Mountains stand in silhouette against a twinkling night sky.
Everything slows.
It’s the kind of stillness that settles deep in my bones and presses pause on the world. The kind that lets you take a full breath. I brought Josie up here thinking it would be a gift for her—but I hadn’t expected it to land in my chest too.
The silence is interrupted only by the faint call of a coyote or a breeze, carrying the crisp, earthy scent of sage and dust. Out here, with her, I could lose myself—or maybe, finally, find what I’ve been searching for.
She breathes in sharply, and I pull her closer.
“Thank you for this,” she whispers. “No picture could ever do this justice, but I want to try.”
“I’ll get it.” I climb over her, pecking her cheek along the way.
Soon, we’re sitting on the roof again, the camera shutter clicking away when she’s not taking breaks to manipulate the settings. Watching her work is just as satisfying as all the things we did today. And the best part—this is only the beginning for us.
???
A pale arch of sun presses gold into the edge of the indigo sky, but that magnificent view outside the window isn’t what’s making my heart pound.
It’s the empty bed beside me. Since Josie hasn’t once woken before me on this trip, my mind goes straight to hell.
She’s gone again.
I’m up before I’ve fully shaken the nightmare off, yanking on my shorts and shoving open the van door so hard it rattles. No sign of her in the open spaces. Not near the fire pit. Not dancing barefoot in the dust to her favorite songs as I often picture her.
Panic slams into me.
“Morning, Cowboy.” Her voice, lazy and teasing, floats down from above. She’s stretched out on the roof, calm as the sunrise itself, wearing my hoodie like a dress.
I fold forward, hands on my knees while my heart tries to claw its way back inside my chest.
“You okay?”
“No.” I force a breath in, then another before standing. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting for the sun, so I can take a few pictures. After that,I’mmakingyoubreakfast.”
On still shaky legs, I climb the ladder and flop onto the cool metal behind her. My skin prickles at the contact, or maybe it’s leftover panic clinging to my spine.
She laughs. “You look green. Are you getting sick thinking about my cooking?” She scoots closer, resting a hand on the opposite side of my ribs like a tether, her eyes roaming over my face.
“I thought something happened to you again.”
Her face droops before she presses her lips to mine. It’s too quick, missing her usual spark. I’ve dimmed her contentment with my usual worrying, but not for long. She bounces back like she always does, and I wonder if that’s for my sake—or hers.
“As you can see, I’m fine and happy you’re here,” she says, running a hand down my abs. “I’m liking this twilight version of you. But let’s be real. You’d look good under gas station lighting.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“Can I take some pictures of you while we wait for the sun?”
I shrug, feeling more like myself again with her by my side. “If that would make you happy.”
