She scoffed and walked ahead of me, hiding a saddened memory that touched her while pain was written across her face.
“It just seems like something you’d do, I guess. I could picture you and your family renting some big-ass RV and cruising to some government-owned park, calling it camping.”
I chuckled at her jab. “Contrary to popular belief, my family was more of a skiing vacation type, thank you very much. And, also, my mom is deathly allergic to wasps, so she never wanted to risk being stung.”
We walked in silence for awhile on the way back to her apartment. An inkling inside of me started thinking it was slowly becomingourapartment, and I didn’t hate that idea. We hadn’t been together long, but the time that we’d spent together had been meaningful—intentional.
Breaking the silence, Lennon spoke softly. “I spent a lot of time camping. Sort of.”
I glanced over at her. Her expression was closed off—not guarded, just heavy. She needed space to explain herself, and she didn’t want pity or interruption. She was working through something I likely wouldn’t be able to truly comprehend.
“Well…I guess it wasn’t camping. It was like…living outside. Permanently.”
I nodded, giving her more of an opportunity to speak. Her tone said she wasn’t finished. I reached for her hand, my thumb tracing slow circles against her soft flesh.
“I was homeless for a long time before my dad’s life insurance came through. My mother was gone. My dad was gone. And before I was eighteen, I’d already experienced the dark side of foster care. I’d rather fend for myself than allow anything more to happen to me. I’d been through enough, you know? I was tired of living so unpredictably—fearing everything that lurked around the corners. So I just…ran away.”
I squeezed her hand, holding back the questions, the rage, the urge to kill anyone who touched her, who hurt her, who took it upon themselves to take from her. Fury brewed inside of me, and it took everything in me not to show it.
But this wasn’t about me.
It was about her.
“We don’t have to go,” I said quietly. “It isn’t important to me.”
She shook her head in protest. “No, no. I want memories that I choose. Not the ones that were forced upon me. Like…what if I were able to erase all the terrible memories with a single good one? Wouldn’t that be beautiful? A life rewritten?”
Hope did something reckless inside my chest. It was something in the way she spoke this in such perfect light. Hope, that maybe—just maybe—if there were enough beautiful memories that she chose to make, that she would inevitably change her mind about ending it.
“That would be the most beautiful thing I’d ever get to witness in this lifetime, Lennon.”
Her lips curved into this radiant smile that was a rarity to witness. Fuck, she was so mesmerizing. Her happiness was earned, never given freely.
We reached her door, and I unlocked it for her. My chest felt tight, my breath shallow, but I didn’t let it show.
She waltzed ahead of me with a little extra pep in her step. Another rarity.
“So, tonight?” she asked, whipping around.
I coughed, covering it with a laugh. “Does that work for you?”
She smiled coyly. “Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn’t.”
Stalking toward her, I closed the distance, spun her around, and lifted her into my arms. Her arms looped around my neck and her legs wrapped around my waist with ease and comfort, like it was instinctual.
“Is that how you want to play it?” I breathed into her neck, kissing the soft crease before nipping her skin.
“Mmm,” she groaned, tipping her head back to give me more access, enjoying the sensation. “I think it is.”
I nipped her again, harder. “You’re such a menace.”
She pulled back, deviance dark in her eyes. “I think you kind of love that about me.”
My lips pulled into a wide grin. “You got that right, Lennon,”
Then I spanked her ass.
She dropped to her feet and headed toward her bedroom, calling out over her shoulder, “I don’t have any camping gear, but I’ll be ready to do this thing in five.”
