Page 95 of Say You'll Never Let Go

He snorts. “Fair point. Seriously, though….ifyouwanna talk—”

“I don’t. Not yet.”

She can’t talk about it, which feels slightly hypocritical when she just asked him to discuss one of his worst traumas over a campfire. How does she tell him what she’s done and not risk losing him entirely? He doesn’t push, and a part of her is grateful, while the other part wishes he might.

“When I was with them, I was always thinking about you.” He flips their dinner over to roast the other side. “But you already know that. You came to me in my dreams. In my hallucinations. In my worst moments, you manifested like an angel telling me to keep going.”

She sniffles, her eyes watering. Her first instinct to be dismissive and self-deprecating wins over. “I’m no angel.”

“You were mine. Still are. Plus…don’t have to worry about never seeing you again because you’re right here. I get to see you every day now.”

“Are you sure you’re not sick of me yet?”

“Not a chance. You’ll always be a better view than any of these sights we stop at.”

He said that so sweetly that she could mistake it for a compliment if she didn’t know better. He can’t be serious, so she goes for the safety of a joke. She is crashing and burning today on all counts. “Read that on a t-shirt somewhere?”

“No.”

“Oh.” That sassy smirk has been wiped clean off her face while she basks in the fact that Wade just implied he thinks she’s pretty. He’s never shown any indication that he gave it much thought, but damn if he isn’t spinning her world sideways with this revelation.

“What’s gotten into you lately?” she says softly.

“Sorry, I’ll stop-”

“No, don’t be sorry. I like it.”

“Yeah?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

* * *

This spot used to be a popular campsite. There are a few trailers once they wander further down the bluff. Mini ones and giant ones, and some that look more expensive than a real house that she desperately wants to stay the night in.

They put down six rotters roaming the park from a distance and two more inside their selected trailer. She nearly squeals in delight at just how well-kept the place is.

After the windows are left open, the smell is gone and she can convince herself they’re out here like anyone used to be back in the day. Looking for adventure and campfires by the overlook.

She finds a book on the counter titledone hundred andone simple yoga poses for beginnersand picks it up with a grin. “I wanna learn how to do this.”

“You’re full of shit,” he teases.

“What? You don’t think I’m limber enough?”

“Didn’t say that. You wanna go alldownward whatever,then have at it.”

“Will you try, too?”

“Not a chance in hell. Already got a bad back, not trying to crack it. But you go on.”

She never expected he’d agree, but gets a kick out of his perplexed expression when she shows him a few pictures of the more interesting poses.

“I’m ready for a little zen in my life.” She leaves the book on the side table in the bedroom. “Adding this to my list.”

“I’ll cheer you on from the sidelines.” He shakes out the blankets on a queen-sized bed stuffed into the very end of the rig. “You picked a good trailer.”

“I’ve always loved these things. Used to want one.”