“Better?” she asks, holding me closer.
“Much.”
We stand like that, watching a trio of dogs chase one another through the sand, barking at the waves. A father and daughter fly a red kite near the cliffs. Its tail flutters wildly, dipping and climbing with the wind.
“I love it here,” I whisper. “Even with the weirdos and everyone knowing our business.”
“Especially because of that,” Wren whispers, barely audible over the crashing waves. “Means they know you’re here and that you’re a part of the community.”
I turn in her arms, resting my hands against her chest. “I’ve never thought about it that way, and I think that’s what I want. To belong. Let’s build something that lasts.”
She brushes her hand across my cheek, hair slapping against my skin. “You’re already doing that. You’re teaching. You’re shaping people before they even know who they’ll become.”
“Come on. You make it sound noble.”
“It is.” Her voice drops. “You’re the most grounded person I know. I’ve spent half my life trying to be half that steady.”
“Please,” I tease. “You’re the steady one. You know who you are. You built your whole world with your hands.”
She looks down, smiling in that way that means she’s trying not to show emotion. “Yeah, maybe. But it didn’t mean much until I had someone to share it with.”
I lean up and kiss her. The wind catches my hair, tangling it around her face, and she laughs against my mouth.
When we part, her forehead rests against mine. “You thinking about leaving?” she asks.
“Not really,” I admit. “Before all this, I might think maybe I’d transfer, find a school somewhere new or bigger. But now… I’ve never really wanted to leave. Ilikebeing a part of this place. It’s my home. I belong to it, and as much as it might fight me, it’s stuck with me.”
“Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
The tide creeps closer, soaking the edge of Wren’s boots. She doesn’t move. Neither do I.
“Do you ever think about kids?” I ask, hopeful.
Her expression is thoughtful. “Yeah. I used to think I wouldn’t be any good at it, like I’d mess someone up the way my parents messed up me and Nick. But now?” She looks out toward the water again. “It could happen. Someday. With the right lady.”
The words settle warm in my chest. “You’d be great,” I say. “You’d build treehouses and fix scraped knees and probably teach them to change oil before they can drive.”
She chuckles. “You’d read to them at night. But not Dr. Seuss. It would be something like ‘Manny the Mechanic at Monster Truck Mayhem.’”
“And we’d argue about bedtime. Because ‘Manny’ takes a few hours to tell with all the good voices, so that kid either has to be in bed at six or we’re up until two.”
“Definitely. And maybe there would be cookies involved.”
We both laugh. Deep down, she must also know how hard all of that would be. But ifourparents could do it with all oftheirproblems…
“There would be some family we become friends with,” Wren continues. “They’d have a kid, too. We would always wonder if something would spark between them, like it did with us.”
The waves break harder now, foam scattering like confetti around our boots. The wind carries a faint sound of bells from inland. Someone’s porch decoration, maybe. We’re not far from some of the coast-side houses lining Cape Arago Highway.
“This is home,” I say. “Isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” she answers. “Not too bad for a place we didn’t choose, huh?”
We walk back to her truck, hand in hand, our footprints washing away behind us. The sky’s gone that pale Oregon gold that only lasts a few minutes before the clouds swallow it again. Soon, it will be too dark to see five feet in front of our faces… even with all of the Christmas lights glittering up on the houses safely out of reach from the king tides.
When we reach the truck, I pause, looking back at the beach—the cliffs, the water, the dogs still going nuts while their owners attempt to call them back so they can go home for Christmas dinner. I think about how small this town can feel, how insulatedfrom the outside world of greater Oregon. Yet, right now, across the span of that big ocean… it feels infinite.
Wren opens the passenger door for me. “You okay?”
