He shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me, and I can see the dazed, satisfied expression on his face in the dim light filtering through the tent fabric. His hair is a mess, strands sticking to his forehead where sweat has beaded along his hairline, and his eyes—oh god, his eyes—are dark and intense, filled with a mixture of awe and something deeper that makes my chest ache.
I reach up to brush a stray lock from his forehead, my fingers trembling slightly, and he catches my hand, pressing a soft kiss to my palm before intertwining our fingers and bringing them to rest between us on the sleeping bag. The simple gesture sends another wave of warmth through me, different from the earlier fire but just as potent, and I squeeze his hand, unable to stop the foolish grin spreading across my face.
He grins back, that same wide, unguarded smile that first made me fall for him, and I can't help but laugh, a quiet, breathless sound that seems to fill the small space between us.
"What's so funny?" he murmurs, his voice still rough with emotion, his thumb stroking the back of my hand in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
"Nothing," I manage, shaking my head slightly. "Everything. This. You." I can't articulate it properly—can't find the words to express the sheer overwhelming joy of this moment, of finally having what I've wanted for so long, of knowing he feels the same. Instead, I just tighten my grip on his hand, shifting slightly to bring our bodies closer together, and he understands, lowering his head to press a soft, lingering kiss to my lips that says everything I can't.
Aubrey's voice cuts through the distant party noise, his figure casting a shadow against the tent wall.
"Hey, just so you know, I shared your news with the rest of the crew and everyone's real excited for you. But when you all are done definitely not boning in there, can I have my camping buddy back, please? Je ne peux pas rester éveillé. I'm trashed, and I want to go to bed. And also, I'm secretly scared of the dark, and Eli keeps trying to scare me by the fire because Gary passed out drunk in his tent."
A low chuckle rumbles in Vince's chest, vibrating against mine as he buries his face in the crook of my neck. His breath is warm against my skin, sending another shiver down my spine.
"You know," he murmurs, his voice muffled by my jacket, "I was trying to have a romantic moment here."
My fingers thread through his hair, still damp with sweat. "Is that what we were doing?" I tease, my voice low and intimate. "I thought we were having a decidedly unromantic moment in a tent surrounded by your friends."
Vince lifts his head, and in the dim light filtering through the nylon walls, I can see the amusement dancing in his eyes.
"Give me five more minutes," he calls out, his voice dripping with false sweetness.
Aubrey's groan of frustration is audible even through the tent walls. "Fine. Five minutes. But if I'm eaten by bears because Eli lured them to my tent,it's on you both."
Vince's laughter rumbles against my chest as he settles back beside me, propping himself on an elbow. "Five minutes," he says, his fingers tracing patterns on my stomach. "What should we do with them?"
I grin, shifting to face him fully. "I have a few ideas."
His eyes darken as he leans in, his mouth just inches from mine. "Me too."
The distant sounds of the campfire fade away as his lips meet mine.
Chapter 32
No Signs of Forced Entry
Andrew
I freeze at my front door, key halfway to the lock, my mind still reeling from the camping trip that changed my life. My heart plummets, a sudden lead weight in my gut.
The lock turns too easily.
The familiar resistance of the deadbolt, the satisfying click I'd grown accustomed to, is absent.
My fingers, still chilled from the drive home despite the car's heater, tremble slightly around the key. My mind flashes back to Vince's kiss on the beach, the taste of salt and desperation, the way his hands had gripped my waist as if I might float away without his anchor. That memory, so vivid and warm, clashes violently with the cold dread creeping up my spine now.
The door wasn't locked.
Did I forget to lock it before leaving? I never forget.
My thoughts race through the weekend's events.I'd been so caught up in the anticipation of seeing him, of finally having that conversation, that maybe... maybe I had been distracted enough to make such a basic mistake.
The possibility tastes bitter in my mouth.
I push the door open slowly, bracing for what I might find. The hinges groan in protest, a sound I've never noticed before, each inch revealing more of the nightmare within.
The kitchen comes into view first—cabinet doors flung wide, dishes scattered like confetti across the countertops. A half-empty carton of milk lies on its side, a white puddle spreading slowly across the linoleum, the sour smell already beginning to permeate the air.Myfavorite cereal box, usually sitting upright on the counter, is torn open and its contents spilled across the floor, mixing with broken glass from what looks like a shattered drinking glass.
