Chapter 9
9
ONNO
T hree weeks—the span of a heartbeat in the grand scheme of things, yet enough time to turn my world on its head. I lay in Howell’s bed, the predawn light filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the man beside me. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest was a silent siren song, lulling me into a false feeling of forever. But forever was a luxury we didn’t have.
As much as I longed to burrow deeper into the warmth of his embrace, it was time to leave. Time to go back to the Netherlands, to a life that suddenly felt foreign, though I’d lived there my entire life. We had spent every waking moment together—exploring the dense greenery of Forestville’s forests, laughing over homemade dinners, getting lost in each other’s arms. And now, the reality of our separation squeezed my heart, leaving a hollow ache where happiness once resided.
I traced the contours of Howell’s sleeping face with my eyes, committing every detail to memory. The way his beard created a perfect shadow along his jaw, how his brown eyes crinkled when he laughed, the softness of his lips when he kissed me.
I was in love with him, and by the way he looked at me, the way his touch lingered, I could only conclude he felt the same. But neither of us had dared to give voice to our feelings. What was the point? It would only carve deeper grooves into our breaking hearts.
“Time to get up,” Howell murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper. His heavy eyes met mine, reflecting my heartbreak.
“Right.” My voice was barely audible. “Airport.”
Neither of us spoke. Words were trivial, powerless against the weight of our shared silence. We moved mechanically, packing the last pieces of my temporary life into my suitcase, our touches lingering, trying to memorize the feel of one another.
All too soon, we were in Howell’s truck, the engine rumbling beneath us as we headed to Sea-Tac. Howell’s hand found mine across the console, gripping it like a lifeline. He drove with a calmness that belied the turmoil in his eyes, the tightness of his face, the tension of his shoulders. The fir trees blurred past us, a green canvas streaked by the tears I refused to shed.
“Will you be okay?” Howell stroked his thumb over the back of my hand.
“Yes,” I lied, squeezing his hand. “And you?”
“Guess I’ll have to be.” His halfhearted smile didn’t reach his eyes.
The miles vanished behind us, each one a countdown I wished I could stop. The closer we got to the airport, the tighter my chest constricted. I talked about mundane things—my flight, the weather in Amsterdam, my mother who awaited my return—anything to fill the void, to keep from crumbling.
Howell found a spot in short-term parking and killed the engine. He turned to me, his jaw hard as granite, the lines around his eyes deepened with sadness. “Let’s grab your bags,” he murmured, his voice laden with resignation.
As we reached for my luggage in the back of the truck, our hands brushed—a spark in the dimming light of our time together. The expression in Howell’s eyes was a reflection of everything unsaid.
We walked into the terminal, silent, holding hands.
“Flight to Amsterdam?” the check-in attendant asked mechanically, her smile practiced but empty.
“Yes.” I handed over my passport, my fingers trembling slightly. Howell’s presence beside me was a pillar of strength I was about to leave behind.
I put my suitcases on the scale, and she labeled them, then gave me my boarding pass. “Have a safe trip,” she said, oblivious to the earthquake shifting the ground.
“Thank”—my voice wavered—“you.”
Howell’s hand found its way to the small of my back, a silent message of support that didn’t need words. His touch was a balm, but it was also a reminder of what I would miss—those strong hands that had guided me, held me, loved me without words.
“Hey.” I put a warm hand on his arm. “I’ll text you when I land, okay?”
“Okay,” Howell said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a brave attempt at a smile, unshed tears glistening in his eyes.
In that crowded airport, with the world rushing by, I felt like we were the only two souls—a small island of stillness in a sea of chaos.
“Take care of yourself,” he whispered.
“I will. You too, Howell.” Each word stabbed my heart.
The security checkpoint was ahead, a physical manifestation of our looming separation. I stole a glance at Howell, finding his deep brown eyes on me. We exchanged a silent conversation. A conversation of “I’ll miss you” and “This isn’t over” interspersed with desperation. Desperation neither of us wanted to voice.
We reached the point where only passengers were allowed to go. I turned to him fully, the world blurring around us until there was only Howell. His sturdy frame, which had shielded me from the perils of the wilderness. His kind eyes, which saw through my defenses. His strong calloused hands that had held me together when I thought I might break.
“Come here,” I said. Howell opened his arms and wrapped me in an embrace that felt like it could stop time. My tears came then, unbidden and hot against my cheeks. He held me tighter, and I buried my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of something undeniably Howell.
“I’ll come visit,” he whispered, his lips moving softly over my scalp. “As soon as I can.”
“Make it soon,” I choked, clinging to him. “I’ll…I’ll come back too. For you. Always for you.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” Though the word seemed too small for what I meant.
We kissed, our lips pressing firmly against each other in a kiss that spoke of endless longing and silent promises and whispered confessions. We pulled apart, only to crash back together, each kiss a punctuation mark in a sentence that had no end.
“Go,” Howell said, his voice ragged. “Before I do something stupid like kidnap you.”
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing.” I attempted levity but failed miserably as another wave of tears blurred my vision.
“Go, Onno,” he urged again, and this time, I forced myself to step back, to disentangle myself from his hold.
“Okay.” I nodded more to myself than to him. “Okay.”
With a final, lingering look, I turned and walked toward the security checkpoint. I didn’t dare turn back, knowing that one look would unravel me completely.
The tears streamed down my face as I took my place in line, my shoulders stooped, my chest heavy, my breaths labored. I felt like someone had died, and in a way, maybe they had.
“Onno!” The urgency in Howell’s voice sliced through the ambient noise, sharp and clear, commanding every ounce of my attention.
I spun around, breath hitched in my throat. There he was—Howell—pushing his way through the crowd with determination. His eyes locked onto mine, shining with pure love and raw vulnerability as bright as a beacon in the dark.
He reached me and, without regard for the curious eyes of strangers, sank to his knees on the polished floor of Sea-Tac Airport. The world stilled and the chatter fell away until there was only Howell, looking up at me like I was his True North.
“Marry me,” he said, his voice quivering. “I love you, Onno. I can’t let you go. I know it’s only been three weeks, but they were the best weeks of my life. I don’t want to be without you, sweetheart. I’ll do anything, everything, to make you happy for the rest of our lives.”
His words hit me with the force of a tidal wave, flooding me with shock and awe and indescribable warmth that seeped into the marrow of my bones.
Tears welled and spilled over. My throat tightened, but the words I’d never dared to say clamored for release. “Howell, I—” A sob choked off the rest, but I fought through it. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
People stopped and watched, but they didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. The world could’ve crumbled around us, and it wouldn’t have mattered. The only thing that mattered was Howell and his faithful brown eyes promising me a future I’d stopped believing in.
“And I’ll move here,” I said. The decision crystalized with a certainty that surprised even me. “To the US, to wherever you are.” I felt light, buoyant, as if the weight of years had been lifted from my shoulders. Was it reckless? Maybe. Did I care? Not one bit.
“Yeah?” Relief washed over Howell’s face, mingling with his tears.
“For you, for us, I’d cross oceans.”
He rose, and we hugged and kissed, and we cried and kissed some more. We were a spectacle, two grown men clinging to each other in Sea-Tac Airport, but it didn’t matter. Not when every whispered promise and gentle touch spoke of a love that had blindsided me, a love that was worth every risk.
“Oh, sweetheart”—Howell pressed his forehead to mine—“I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Believe it,” I whispered back, reeling from the intensity of our connection. I tasted the salt of our tears as they continued their silent descent, marking the trail of emotions we’d unleashed.
“Let’s not waste any time.” Howell pulled back slightly, his gaze steady and strong. “I’m going to marry you as soon as possible. We’ll get started on your visa the moment we’ve said our vows.”
A laugh bubbled up through the tightness in my chest, more from joy than disbelief. “After that proposal? You already know my answer.” I leaned in and stole another quick kiss, a promise of all the ones to come. “Yes, let’s do it. Let’s start our forever.”
“Then it’s settled,” he said, his grin infectious. “We’re doing this. And, Onno?” Howell’s voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Once you’re here for good, I’ll make sure you never doubt how much you mean to me—not for a second.”