Page 11 of Meeting Me, Loving You (Hearts of Maple Lake #1)

My shoulders relax more each minute I spend with this woman, and I allow my face to stretch into the biggest smile I’ve had in a long, long time.

It feels good. I once heard that it takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile, and I can confirm that’s true.

This smile feels like an overdue stretch for my sore muscles.

I’ve been on edge for too long—it feels amazing to just be content in this moment.

I resist the urge to reach out and hold Jules’ hand, to keep her happiness physically close to me.

Feeling the chill in the air as we near the lake, I place my own hands in the pockets of my jeans instead.

We had stopped walking as I gave her the gloves and we haven’t yet moved from our spots.

As she looks up at me, I realize how close we are, almost toe to toe.

She has to tilt her head back to see me since she only comes up to my shoulder.

At six feet four inches, I’m used to looking down to people, but this proximity is causing warmth to spread through my body as I look at Juliet’s rose colored cheeks framed by her warm brown curls.

She holds her gloved hands between us, not quite touching me as she rubs her hands together for added warmth.

Neither of us move. Our breaths become one, mingling in the frosty air in the form of steam drifting around our faces as I look into her beautiful brown eyes.

There’s an excitement building in my chest when I realize she isn’t pulling away from this moment.

Jules is looking into my eyes, and then her gaze slowly moves down to my lips, her own lips parting in the smallest of movements.

But it’s as if she realizes what she’s doing and she blinks, her eyes widening and quickly coming back up to meet mine.

My hands are still buried deep in my pockets and I’m thankful for it.

I don’t need to be reaching out and touching her, even though I want to do everything in my power to keep her near me.

Although I don’t want to, I take a step back to give her space and then take a deep yet subtle breath before turning my body toward the lake.

“Thanks for the gloves,” Jules says as she recovers from whatever just happened, or what didn’t happen.

Her laugh is halfhearted and strained as she tucks a loose wisp of hair behind her ear and trudges forward toward the lake with me.

“Anytime.”

As we walk, I look at her through my peripheral vision, not knowing what she’s feeling but desperately wishing I could read her mind.

Is this weird for her? Am I still just her brother’s friend who she’d never go for, or do I have a chance?

Do I want a chance?

All I know is if I had stayed there, standing in front of her like that with her eyes on me, I might have kissed her. But I can’t do that; I’m not in a position to become attached to someone.

Besides, I’m not the kind of guy to jump into a relationship or kiss a girl I just met. In fact, far from it. I’ve been burned before, and my parents have never been a great example of real love and affection, so it’s because of them that I always have my guard up.

But I can’t shake the feeling that there’s a real connection between me and Jules, and all I want to do now is break down the walls I’ve built and invite her in.

We’re walking slowly beside each other again, the wind getting stronger as we get closer to the water.

There aren’t many trees around the lake to block the breeze, and a few houses on the opposite side of the lake are now visible in the noonday sunshine, while several fluffy white clouds leave shadows over the glistening water.

The houses are new, having been built in the time I was gone .

The only house on the water that I remember is the one that belonged to my grandpa.

It still stands there, looking lived in but no longer the warm refuge I remember it to be.

Other than Pops’ house twenty feet from the water, that side of the lake used to be completely untouched land.

The tree line grew back from the water about ten feet, and I would make forts in the woods and campfires by the beach.

I point toward it. “That was my Pops’ house.”

“The one with the blue shutters?”

“Yeah. I helped him paint those when I was seven.”

“Aww,” she says, smiling. “That’s so sweet. I bet you had tons of fun here when you were little.”

“It was the best.”

The shutters are now faded and worn, the grass uncut. I look toward the old dock that juts out from the backyard, grateful to find it still looks the way I remember.

“Pops kept this place immaculate when he was still alive,” I say.

“I’d come over to help him cut the grass and power wash the house.

We’d sit on the dock talking about school and life, and I would spend the whole summer fishing from the end of it.

Well, aside from the days I was with Tyler.

” Besides the Berns’ home, Pops’ house was the only place I ever felt like I was enough.

Jules’ lips curve into a beautiful smile, pulling my attention to her. “He sounds like he was an amazing grandpa.”

“He really was,” I say. “You would have liked him.”

“I’m sorry I never met him.”

I scan my eyes over the water, flashes of memories assaulting me, making my chest tighten.

“I wasn’t here when he passed. I was in Washington.

” I meet Jules’ soft eyes, and they make me want to share more.

“My mom came back for the funeral, but my dad said he had to work, and they made me stay home with him. ”

“Oh, Cam. I’m so sorry… How long ago was it?”

“He passed away when I was seventeen, two years after I moved away. I was still in high school.”

Jules rests a hand on my forearm. “I’m sure he’d be happy you’re back.” Her smile warms my heart, soothing the rough memories within me.

“Thank you for saying that, Jules,” I say as I look out over the lake.

It’s not a large lake; some might even call it a pond, but I have memories of rowing my grandpa’s little boat out to the middle of it in the black of night, laying down to gaze at the stars.

I loved how it made the universe feel so much bigger, floating on the edge of the world with nothing but infinite miles of unknown staring down at me, the stars holding millions of untold stories that I wanted to pluck from the heavens and weave into my life, to add some light and maybe a little joy.

In the presence of a universe so great, my problems seemed small in comparison.

We’ve been walking in silence for a few minutes after our almost-kiss, the only sounds being a few ducks on the water calling to each other and a slight breeze rustling the bushes lining one side of the sidewalk that leads from downtown to the lake.

There’s a small picnic area up ahead, and benches are positioned in various spots around the water’s edge.

As quiet as it is, the silence between us isn’t uncomfortable for me.

Neither of us are trying to fill the gap between speaking, and it’s exhilarating.

I haven’t had a moment like this with someone in a long time.

It’s the kind of silence that feels needed, the kind that can be comforting because you know neither you nor the other person are feeling the urge to fill the divide.

I typically keep my mind or my body busy because I don’t like the silence.

I find that my self doubt is the strongest in the quiet.

That’s why I enjoy being in the gym and staying busy with work.

But this silence with Jules feels… right.

I can’t explain or describe what the feeling is exactly, but it’s comforting. Jules hasn’t dug into my past, searching for baggage or skeletons in my closet, and I’m grateful to her for that.

“These houses are new,” I state, remembering this place as it used to be.

“Have you been to the lake since you moved back?” Jules’ voice pulls me from my memories, and I look at her with a smile.

“I came by the first week I was here.” I let out a long breath, taking in the surrounding changes, and I point again toward Pops’ house.

“One day when I was twelve, I was fishing from my Pops’ boat dock and my line got snagged on something big.

I thought it was going to be a huge fish because I was having trouble reeling it in.

” I laugh. “It turned out to be a folding lawn chair that had been blown in by the last storm.”

I can’t tell if I’m smiling or frowning; maybe both, if that’s possible.

Pops was more of a parent to me than my own mom and dad, and seeing his house go to a stranger is difficult to stomach.

My mom’s father was always there for me—he came to every football game he could, he taught me to ride my bike when I was five, and he even gave me my first pocket knife at eight with my full name engraved on the side, which I unfortunately lost in the center of the lake six years later.

My canoe had tipped over and I lost everything that was too heavy to float, including the most treasured thing I had: my Pops’ pocket knife.

Gentle laughter from Jules over my lawn chair story dulls the ache in my chest caused by the memory of my late grandfather. My frown relaxes, and once again, I’m left feeling nothing but calm standing beside her, like someone flipped a switch and my clouds are turned instantly to sunshine.

“Was your Pops happy to have his chair back?”

“He was relieved to know what had happened to it. He had been determined to find whatever ‘hooligan’, as he called them, had taken it. But it was too rusty to use at that point and he had already bought a new one to replace it a few weeks before.”

“Probably best to avoid the risk of tetanus, I guess.” She smirks, and my heart flutters in my chest.

“We don’t have to walk around the whole lake,” she says. “It’s pretty cold, and I’m sure you want to get back to Penny.”

A playful grin takes shape on her pink lips. Her rose colored cheeks and the shiver that runs through her body make me want to wrap her in my arms to warm her.

Instead, I agree that we should head back toward town.

We haven’t walked far, so we can still see some buildings from the lake.

Christmas lights still line many of the storefront roofs and cover the little trees growing along the sidewalk near the main street.

We can’t have walked more than a half mile from the diner, so we turn and start back.

“So, Tyler likes being an architect?” I ask. Jules told me a little about Tyler’s life while we ate lunch, but I’m curious to know more.

“He loves it! He talks about it all the time. Sometimes it’s hard to get him to talk about anything else.” She laughs.

“At least he found something he’s passionate about. I think that’s great. And he visits occasionally?”

“Whenever he can.” She shrugs. “He tries to come once a month and we’ll do hikes together. And when he’s here, he tries to visit practically everyone in town, so I’m forced to share him.” She rolls her eyes playfully. “But he’s been busier lately, so we keep in touch with phone calls. ”

We’ve talked about almost everyone and everything, but I notice she never mentions her younger sister, Natalie.

I take a few moments to wrack my brain for any information I may have forgotten regarding her sister, but nothing comes to mind.

I don’t think anyone has spoken to me about Natalie in the six months that I’ve lived here, which is strange.

“What’s Natalie been up to lately? She’s probably in college, right?”

There’s a moment of silence and I peer down at Jules to find her frowning as she watches her steps, focusing a little too hard on the path in front of her. I suddenly get the sense I touched a nerve I shouldn’t have, and I want to redact my question.

But before I apologize for unintentionally causing her discomfort, she clears her throat.

“She… moved away.” I instantly notice a change in Jules’ tone.

She kicks at a rock with the toe of her boot, and I reach out to place my hand on her arm, gently pulling her to a stop on the sidewalk.

“Hey, Jules. What’s wrong?” She looks up into my eyes and sadness washes over her face for just a second. My heart aches for her, but she blinks, and the look is quickly replaced with a smile.

“Hey, want to get some hot cocoa?” she asks, already continuing the walk back to town. I follow her, hoping one day she’ll open up to me about what really happened to Natalie.