Page 49 of Pictures in Blue
“For both of you,” she responds.
“I suppose.”
“I can tell you love him more than yourself. No one would go through all the effort you do with him or your whole family if you didn’t love them.”
I shrug. “I don’t do that much.”
“Liar,” she says and we fall into silence, the only sound is the water and the swaying of the trees. Our breaths lingering in the air.
I can hear hers deepen as she drifts back to sleep. I watch her chest rise and fall and warmth flows through my body at the image of her comforting me, helping me work through my panic. And something else. A feeling. An attraction? No. Something more fills my chest and I tuck her tighter into me, openly afraid to let her go in the morning.
I don’t know how long I stay awake, but it’s long enough to imagine all the ways I want to wake her up. Soft touches down her spine. A firm kiss to her lips or her cheek. A trail of kisses down her neck. Down, down, down, until I’m nestled between her legs.
Fuck, I have really got to stop making myself hard.
When we wakeup in the morning, our legs are tangled together and her ass is pressed up against me. I am wrapped around her, spooning her and there isn’t an inch of her body that isn’t in contact with me. Her heartbeat picks up and I can tell she’s awake, realizing how close we are. Will she break the silence first? Or will she pretend to sleep? I’m all for pretending to sleep because that means we get to lay like this a little longer. But we can’t. I have things to do today, and I’m sure she does too.
I make a decision and lean forward to kiss the spot right below her ear. “Sleep well?”
Her eyes fly open and her ass twitches. My hand stills her hip and pushes slightly so she isn’t touching me. At least, not there. “Don’t do that again,” I groan. “Unless you want this morning to get a little bit more exciting.”
Avery flings the sleeping bag off of her and jumps up to make her way to the water. When the adrenaline wears off, she slows her steps until she is at the edge. As she crouches down, her ankle gives way and she falls face first into the water.
I burst with laughter as she turns and stands, wiping the water from her face. “That didnotjust happen.”
I grab my stomach, my laughter filling the air around us. “Going for a swim, Flounder?”
She limps toward me with a scowl I think is supposed to intimidate me. “This is your fault.”
“In what world isthis,” I swipe my hand up and down, gesturing at her now wet appearance. “My fault?” I finish. She doesn’t answer, but holds out her hand, palm up. I slap it and get an even deeper scowl. She’s more beautiful when she’s trying to scare me. “Yes, Sunshine?”
“My clothes are wet. You owe me a shirt. Give me yours.”
I don’t hesitate to strip off my shirt and place it in her still open hand.
“As you wish,” I say and her eyes widen, not leaving my torso. I think she realizes her mistake at the same time I give her a knowing smile. But she calls my bluff and goes behind a tree to change out of her wet shirt. Part of me was hoping she wouldn’t call me on it so she had to stay in her wet shirt. Now I’m hiking shirtless, but I can tell she doesn’t mind so I sure as hell am not going to let it bother me.
She’s leaving,I remind myself. She’s leaving and there’s nothing here I want to let myself consider. She’s gorgeous, sure, and I was more vulnerable with her last night than I have been with anyone currently in my life. I don’t talk about Sarah. To anyone. Sky included. Then again, Sky is less likely to approach the subject than I am. And for the first few months after her death, Elias somehow managed to direct every conversation back to Sarah.
The brunch was particularly good that day. “Remember when Sarah made the perfect batch of pancakes?”
Or when he spent a week in the workshop with me, watching me carve and trying to learn for himself. “Remember when Sarah wanted you to do a carving of me for her and it looked like Freddie Kruger? Good thing you stick with animals.”
Or when Ethan decided for the thousandth time he wanted a different colored flag for the week. “Remember when Sarah made us all play flag football during brunch so Ethan could coach us from the sidelines?”
Remember when. Remember when. Remember when.
The last three years of my life have been filled with “remember whens” and every time they creep into my head it makes my heart ache. I remember all of them. I remember all of Sarah, and in the months following her death all I wanted to do was forget. It’s still what I want to do. I think.
I spent those months avoiding those conversations and eventually everyone gave up trying to talk to me about Sarah. If anyone needed a heart-to-heart, they figured out I was not the person to go to. I’m still not. I don’t do feelings, but the nightmare is fresh in my mind and it feels like I am going to explode if I don’t talk about it. It felt safe under the cover of darkness with the moon and stars being the only light, and the waterfall drowning out the chorus of the night.
My hands tingle at the memory of feeling her skin against mine. Stroking the little bit of skin that showed under the hem of her shirt. Shaking my head, I rub my hands down my face and sigh. Resolved with my decision. I walk toward Avery where she has started packing things into my bag, ready to get back to town. What can I say to her to get her to understand how I feel? If I asked her to be with me for the time she has left, would she? It might be short, but all I know is the tightness in my chest doesn’t feel as suffocating when she is near.
I rub the back of my neck, a nervous habit, and open my mouth to speak.
“Look, I appreciate you taking me on this hike,” says Avery, beating me in breaking our silence.
The ache tightens again. A python wrapping around its prey, tightening and tightening until there is no breath left.
