Page 112 of One Small Spark
I drove by her house, but her car wasn’t parked in the driveway. Not knowing where else to go to find her, I head to my cabin. I’ll text her once I get there, and hopefully we can talk soon so I can tell her how I feel and confess what I’ve done.
I overstepped, but just how far remains to be seen.
My truck bumps over a pothole when I turn onto my gravel drive. Normally, driving through these trees brings me back tocenter. My cabin is a refuge I can’t wait to return to. But today, I only want her.
I’m in luck—her car’s parked out front when I pull up. She was sitting in the Adirondack chair on the porch but pops up when I park. She strides across the porch and crosses back to the chair. Pacing.
That’s not ominous or anything.
I get out of my truck and come around to the bottom of the stairs. “Okay there, Krause?”
It’s obvious she’s not. She flexes her hands more rapidly than I do when I’m trying to stave off a panic attack, and her eyes are wide like she’s processing more than she can handle.
“Don’t go out with Lucy.” The words tumble out in a rush, forming one word.Don’tgooutwithLucy.
“Lucy?”
“I don’t want to lose you to some sweet, kind, blah-blah-blah, perfect woman.” She frowns, but when it disappears, she looks like somebody unraveled one of her precious crocheted weirdos. “I want to keep you for my own sad, shriveled heart.”
I have to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. She’s too upset for me to ruin this by interrupting. But hasn’t she realized yet that the only thing I want is to be in herglorious, overflowingheart?
She takes a step closer but doesn’t leave the safety of the porch. I’m six steps and five feet too far away from her. Any amount of distance is too much.
“I should have told you how I feel about you when we made bread and you said all those romantic things to me.” She cringes, and her body language crumbles as if she’s shrinking in on herself. But she rallies, standing straighter. “I was scared. And if I’m saying all of this too late, then I only have myself to blame.”
She considers and juts out a hip. “Really, I also blame you because you can’t take a girl to a magical hot spring wherepeople fall in love and think she won’t fall totally in love with you, too.”
My heart goes supernova, wiping out everything in its vicinity with blinding exhilaration. “You love me?”
She nods. “Probably an unhealthy amount. Like, unhinged levels. So you can’t go out with Lucy and fall for her instead.”
I stalk up the stairs, my gaze locked on hers. “I don’t know who Lucy is.”
She has just enough time to look confused before I kiss her, lifting her up into my arms. She swings her legs around my waist, locking us together. I kiss her exactly like the obsessed man I am, striding forward until her back hits the front door. I use the leverage to keep her there, pressing my body against her, and I do not stop until she gasps for air.
She loves me.
I finally draw back enough to speak. “You absolutely beautiful madwoman. I am so in love with you.”
Her face lights up, her wide blue saucer-eyes brimming with tears. I press soft kisses to each of her cheeks. “You are my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night.” I kiss her temple, nuzzling into her hair, reveling in the warm scent of apples. “You are everything I crave in the exact right amounts.” I kiss along the slope of her neck down to her collarbone. “Spark. Tenacity. Humor. Passion. Your gorgeous heart.”
Wren gasps, holding me around the shoulders, kissing me back everywhere she can reach.
“Being with you, it’s like…you take my breath away, but for the first time, I can breathe deeply, too.” She cringes again, trying to burrow into my neck, but our positions don’t allow it. “I’m a cheeseball sometimes, too, okay?”
Then, she looks up at me and bites her lower lip, sending a shot of lightning through my veins. “But only for you.”
“Agreed.”
I kiss her again, and I’m well aware we’re making out against my door. It’s cold out, and I should take her inside to warm up. But this moment means too much to break, and I refuse to stop for anything.
Except maybe one question.
I pull back and catch my breath. “Who is Lucy?”
She rolls her eyes, poking her fingers into my upper back. “You know. The woman Rosetta wants to set you up with.”
The name clicks back into place. I was too excited by what Rosetta was saying to remember little details like the woman’s name. A common factor of my social anxiety. Names are blips of sound that don’t register, even when I’m trying to hold onto them.
