Page 132 of The Time It Takes

Willow tosses me the keys before sliding into the passenger seat. I start the engine and the car roars to life, sounding as smooth as it always has. She cracks open her drink and takes a long sip before smacking her lips together with anahh.

I reach over and squeeze her thigh, still reveling in the fact that she’s here. I lean over, stealing her lips with mine, tasting citrus on her tongue.

I kiss her nose before pulling back “Ready?”

She nods once. “Floor it.”

I laugh under my breath as I peel out of the gas station. When I come up to the stoplight, Willow looks around for cops and when she doesn’t see any, she turns to wink at me.

I bite my lip to smother a grin as I shake my head. “You’re trouble, Vensling.”

Before she can respond, the light turns green. I press the pedal to the floor and her head falls back into the seat as hysterical laughter bursts out of her. My girl likes to go fast.

After a while, we hit traffic and Willow makes it clear she’s all out of jerky. I keep my hand on her thigh, my thumb circling her soft, now tanned, skin. She slept for a few hours and thanks to the traffic, I could watch her. She’s still the most beautiful woman she was at seventeen, the same kind of beautiful I fell in love with at thirteen. I’ve known her my entire life and I still can’t get over the fact that she’s finally all mine.

Before we took this trip, we stopped by the cemetery to visit my father. Willow fulfilled her promise to him and made sure he was the first person to have her new album. We sat there for hours with her custom-made CD playing through the speakers of my Jeep. I was always aware of how much Willow appreciated and loved my parents. Listening to her tell him about her life in New York only reminded me how much time we’ve missed. We have so much to make up for, but I’ve never been one to sway from a challenge.

It’s life and I’m going to spend the rest of it making sure no harm touches her—I can promise Benjamin that with every fiber I’m made of.

She turns down the radio and faces me. “Do you know where the rest of Ben’s CDs went?”

I glance at her and shake my head. “I haven’t touched them,” I say. “Have you looked under the seat?”

“Why would I have looked there?”

The corner of my mouth lifts. “Because that’s where everyone keeps them.”

She hums under her breath before looking under the seat. Seeming to come up empty, she leans into the back to look under the driver’s seat. She pulls out a black case and sets it on her lap. I suppress a grin as she runs her hands over the dusty cover.

She looks over at me with narrowed eyes. “You forget I’ve never owned a car in my life.”

“You own this one.”

“We both do,” she says quietly, looking away. She unzips the case, revealing at least a hundred CDs. She flips through them until she seems to find one, flashing it my way.

Oasis.

I grin. “No way.”

“Oh yeah.” She nods. “I always knew Benji was a softie!” She smiles to herself as she slides it into the slot. “Busted.”

She hits play and naturally, we roll the windows down and turn the music up. The wind somersaults her hair around her face, and I’m mesmerized. Completely struck by the thought that I have a miracle sitting next to me. I’m so in love with her and knowing that it’s reciprocated makes me feel like I’ve won something.

She’s a force that’ll never stop taking me to my knees. She’s so many moments stuffed into one. It feels like a lifetime that I’ve waited for her, and I’d wait a thousand more of them if it meant she came back every time.

Forever seems like a soft thing to grasp until you realize you’re holding it in your arms and it’s a fight like hell to not let go. Love is a choice and I’ll keep choosing her every sunrise and every sunset. I’ll choose her even when she doesn’t want to choose me.

I’m her lighthouse and she’s the storm that gives me purpose.

Sometimes I find it hard to sleep and I end up watching her instead. I even loathe blinking because I’m afraid I’ll miss something. I want her smiles, her scowls, her pouts, her blinks. I want to miss nothing because this girl iseverything.

My person. My home. My thunderstorm.

We come up on a bridge and she asks over the music, “Do you want to see something?”

Before I can respond, she’s taking off her seat belt and crawling through the sunroof. I wrap a protective arm around her leg.

“What are you doing?” I yell out to her.

She spreads her arms and tips her head back. “I’m flying!”

At her words, I smile and place a quick kiss on her thigh. She’s right. She’s flying.

And her glass wings don’t break.

“Damn right you are.”