Page 66 of Mountain Pine
“I can’t live without you either,” I say. “So you’re not going anywhere. No matter what. Understand me?”
Yesterday he said if it didn’t work out between us, he’d leave and never come back. It wasn’t a threat; it was a safety switch. I’ve had to grow up in a town filled with the faces of people who hurt my feelings and broke my heart. He’s sparing me the pain of being in that crowd.
“I’m going to marry you,” I tell him. “And we’re going to have tons of babies.”
His eyes light up and a gorgeous smile spreads across his whiskered face. “Oh yeah?”
“Yup.” I pat his cheeks and hold my tears back. “Just not today. I’ve got stuff to do today.”
“But one day.”
“Yes.”
“Pinky promise.”
He holds out his little finger for me. I hook mine to it and then we do what we have always done—I lean in and kiss my thumb, and he leans in and kisses his. We pause and I suddenly get this awful gut feeling that fate is going to try to fuck with us. It makes my stomach twist. Conner must not feel it though because he drops our linked hands and kisses me hard.
Before I know it, I’m latched onto his torso like a sloth and we’re making out while he carries me up the hill and drags my cart behind us.
What a multitasker.
“I’ll see you later then, okay?” he asks once he sets me down by my car.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
We’re awkward again and I can tell he has something more on his mind and won’t say. Maybe I do too and it’s just not the time.
“Bye, Flirt In Dirt.”
That breaks the tension, and he huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. “Enjoy the material you stole for your spank bank.”
“I didn’t steal it. I literally directed and produced it. I own the rights.”
“It’s my body,” he argues.
I wave him off. “I own that now too. It’s all mine.”
Conner cracks a laugh and heads back to his campsite.
When I leave, I rub my aching chest and pray to the universe that something doesn’t mess this up for us.
Chapter 20
Conner
I pack up my campsite about an hour after Taylor left. I don’t need the silence or distance to get my head on straight. I need Taylor.
She’s all I’ve ever needed.
I yearn for her like a caged bird craves flying.
But while packing up my gear and loading my truck, my mind wanders to all the what ifs again. I try to shut them up. Truly. I do. It’s just that they’re loud and I’m insecure and it is what it is. Using some of the coping skills I learned in therapy a while back, I try switching my thought process from doom to bloom. What if it doesn’t work out turns into what if this works out better than I ever imagined. What if I screw us up turns into what if I am the best man she’s ever dated? What if I can’t figure out my job situation turns into what if I lean into my pie-in-the-sky dreams and make it all happen for not just me, but all of us?
By the time I get home, my worries aren’t as heavy. Perspective is a wild mental ride.
