Page 57 of Never Stop
He laughs at his own stupid joke.Idiot. MY idiot.
"You're for me, and I'll always be for you."
"I mean, you are the one who bought my house to feel close to me. So we could technically say that you're the crazy one." I tease at him, and he shoves me playfully before putting both hands on my face and pulling me into a kiss that takes the breath and snarky comebacks right out of me.
After a while, he pulls back, "Babe, you can say I'm crazy; you can say I'm whatever you want. As long as you also say you'll give this a shot with me. I'll be happy."
My eyebrows furrow, and my nose scrunches as I shake my head. "So cheesy!" I giggle out at him.
"It ain't easy being cheesy, Rosie." He says back, smugly with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face as he kisses the apples of both of my cheeks, which are currently fire red.
"Okay, Dr. Seuss," I snort. Can I go see the inside of the house?" I ask softly, feeling somewhat shy and nervous as I pull myself off of him and sit back in my seat. I stare out the window at the house and land that gave me life when I was younger. The memories come flooding in like a movie reel in my mind's eye.
Almost every memory I hold of this Island includes Ander, and for once, it doesn't hurt to remember.
I initially anticipated being in this house again would bring up too many memories and be too much to handle. However, it's been cathartic for me, especially being here with Ander. Thefurniture is different; the decor is lighter— more manly for sure— and the walls are painted various shades of grey instead of the bright blues my mom had painted them way back when. No matter the looks, the house still feels like home. It always felt more like home than our ranch home on the prairie in Sugarland did. It's still bizarre that this is Ander's home, but it brings me comfort.
The look of pride on his beautifully chiseled face as he took me on a tour ofhishome was enough to calm any storm that was trying to brew inside me.
As we return to the main living area, I walk over to the massive wall of windows that overlooks the beach. From wall to wall, all the windows start at the depths of the floor and spread their way up to the loft's tall, peaked ceiling. I forgot how absolutely breathtaking this view was. Grand Isle will never be the most tropical island beach in the world, butdamn, it sure is paradise to me. My hand was placed against one of the many windows as my eyes searched the view. I take my time taking it all in. The sand isn't quite white, but not precisely brown, either. The water is more of a deep green than a crystal blue. It's definitely not like what most people imagine when they think of beach water, but it's paradise, and it's all the same. It's the beautiful line where the ocean meets the sky, leaving one unsure of where it ends and the other begins.
My head rests softly against the glass in front of me as my eyes fall on the field where it all began—our field. The grass is still wild, long, and overgrown, just as I remember it. The same walkway is flattened throughout, caused by foot traffic, not by cutting it.
I can feel Ander's presence growing closer. His woodsy scent fills my nostrils and wakes up all of my senses. I close my eyes and embrace the memory. He still smells like I remember him—that same masculine, earthy smell of cedar and sandalwood. I letout a breath, and my eyes shut tighter, soaking in the moment as I felt his touch on me. His hand wraps around my waist, and he leans his body into mine, wrapping me into a hug from behind. My head pulls off the window, and I lean it back onto his shoulder. I let out a sigh and opened my eyes. Anders' eyes are soft and gentle as they search mine.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
I arch my eyebrows playfully. "Always trying to get inside my damn head," I laugh, attempting to deflect.
"Yes," he deadpans, but his face is softer than his tone. I can sense he's worried that taking me here is too much for me. I could tell he was having an internal war with himself, and maybe he had made the wrong decision.
If I had to pick one thing I loved the most about Ander, it's that although he knew almost all of my terrible past, he was the one person who didn't treat me like I was a fragile piece of rare antique glass that could shatter at the slightest touch. Don't get me wrong; he was always caring towards me and much more with me than he ever was with anyone else. It's like he knew I could handle myself, and he walked with me through the challenges rather than trying to save me from the dragons. I always did appreciate that.
I smile at his honest answer and firm tone. Pulling myself out of his embrace, I turn to face him, grabbing one of his hands and leading him to the couch behind us. I plop down ungracefully— internal side note: I need to work on my ladylike skills.
Sitting crisscross on the expansively oversized, incredibly comfy couch, I pat the spot across from me, signaling for him to sit, too. Ander raises an eyebrow at me, and one corner of his mouth turns into a ghost of a smile. Then he takes a seat across from me, eyes intently on me.
"Thank you," I begin.
He scoffs, "For what?" Ander has always been incredibly confident and the biggest self-depreciator I've ever met.
"Everything," I return his deadpan from a few minutes ago, with a smile, of course.
He lets out a confused, soft laugh, eyes still on me. I reach across and grab his hand, rubbing soft circles on his palm with my thumb. Part of me wants to lay it all out. Come clean. Tell him everything. The real reason why I pushed him away was that the intelligent part of me knew I could never do that.
"I've given you every reason to hate me. I've given you every reason never to want to see or speak to me again. You tried so hard six years ago. You didn't want to give up on me. Onus." I signaled between us with my free hand, "I pushed you away when life got hard. I can't say how hard that decision was and has been for me and how much I've regretted it. I spent all these years telling myself it was for the best."
I finally look down at our intertwined hands, unable to keep his gaze. With my heart rate picking up its pace, I go on.
"I know any explanation I give now will sound like pathetic excuses—"
"No, it won't, Rosie. I promise," He cuts me off with a firm but gentle tone. My eyes flash to his just as he nods, signaling me to continue.
"You don't need me to tell you that since the day we met when we were kids, you've always been my person. Always. After incidents with Liam, I'd turn to you. When my parents were driving me up the wall with their blind eyes and constant fighting, you'd listen to my rants. When everything in my life would seem to explode around me, you were my safe place to land. My escape from reality. I've always been grateful that you effortlessly and graciously played that role in my life. I also wasn't blind to the fact that my life was neversimple. Somethingwas always going wrong. You were the only thing that ever felt right."
I let out a sigh and braced myself before hedging forward. He gave my hand a gentle squeeze of comfort. I could tell he was soaking in every word. Processing it all.
"After the accident, I wanted nothing but to turn to you—to lean on you like I always had—to feel your comfort. I knew," A lone tear fell from my eye and trickled down my cheek. His hand separated from mine and cupped my cheek, his thumb swiping my tears away. I lean my head into his warm, gentle touch and embrace the feel of his rough, calloused hand against my skin.
