Page 98 of Sincerely, Mr. Braden

There’s no meadow at the bottom of the hill, just overgrown brush and woods waking from winter. The air cools as we descend into the shade. Patches of snow linger in the shadows, a creek snaking through them like a guide, waiting for us.

We follow the creek, ducking beneath branches, stepping over rocks and twigs, and we come to an ancient covered bridge that looks like a relic to a hundred forgotten springs. Wild tangles of brush push at the base, and weeds snake up the weathered wood siding. The roof sags, and the floorboards bow in the middle, but it’s impossible to look away from it. Its bedraggled bones have stood the test of time, which is exactly what I hope for me and Ellie.

The test of time, not the bedraggled bones.

Ellie and I exchange smiles as we step onto the bridge. The boards creak beneath our feet, the trickling creek whispering through the silence.

“It’s beautiful,” Ellie says, her eyes wide with wonder.

Damn, I love that look on you. I commit it to memory. “Yes, you are.”

She gives me the look that says I’m being silly, but I can see she’s trying to get out from under the news, trying to smile as she says, “You’re not so bad yourself,” and leans in for a kiss.

I can’t resist taking the kiss deeper, wanting to memorize the feel of her in my arms, the taste of her lips on mine. I kiss her so long, she comes away breathless. “Now, that’s a great look on you.”

An almost silent laugh slips from her gorgeous lips.

Not for the first time, and definitely not the last, I think about how lucky I am that she’s mine. “Ready to test the legend, Nunnally?”

“Yes, Mr. Braden. I can’t wait to hear your secrets.”

“I’ve only got one good one.” I give her hand a squeeze and then release it and walk to the opposite side of the bridge, the boards creaking beneath my boots.

When I turn around, my heart does a double take. Ellie is illuminated from behind, like an angel. My angel. My goddess. My best friend. My everything.

“Ready?” I say, hoping this doesn’t scare her off.

“As I’ll ever be,” she calls out.

“One,” I call out, and my stomach knots up.

“Two.” My hands sweat. Maybe I shouldn’t risk it.

Fuck it.

“Three!”

The words I’ve held back so long they’re etched into my being shoot from my lips—“I love you!”—intertwining with her words, they echo around us. It takes a second to think past my thundering heart and process that she’s still here, and she said it, too. “You love me!” flies from my lips as I run across the bridge.

She laughs as I haul her into my arms and spin her around.

“I do!” she exclaims. “I love you more than the sun and the moon and stars put together.”

“That’s a lot of love. I’m one lucky bastard.” I crush my lips to hers.

Our kisses are messy, our laughter is pure, and our I love yous echo in the woods around us, a sound I’ll carry through every hour, across every mile, and over every ocean that dares come between us, until she’s right back in my arms where she belongs.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Taylor

I should’ve canceled breakfast with my father. I’m edgy and overtired. After making Seth’s travel arrangements, I had a hard time saying goodbye, knowing I wouldn’t see him for several weeks, if not longer. I tossed and turned all night, and this morning my whole body feels wrong. Like I’m wearing someone else’s skin. But I need to be here, to be sure my father is taking his meds, and eating, and not too worn out from his weekend away.

The smell of burnt toast hits me as I walk in my father’s front door. So much for my grand plan of surprising him with a delicious breakfast. Barney trots in like he owns the place, nails clicking against the floor, his tail wagging. He heads straight for Dad, who is sitting at the kitchen table in a flannel and jeans, reading glasses perched low on his nose, his attention locked on his tablet as he nudges Barney with his knee.

“Good morning, Dad.” I set the bakery bag on the counter beside a jar of peanut butter, which is smeared on a half-eaten piece of toast in front of my father.

“Why’s the nuisance here on a Thursday?” he asks without looking up, reaching for his toast.