Chapter 14
Hunter
We move into my new house on August twentieth, but ten days pass in the blink of an eye. Just as it’s really starting to feel like a home, Isabella’s packing her bags to return to Seattle. Even though we have a plan in place—I start my job with Kit on October third—I hate to think of the next four and a half weeks apart.
The night before she flies home, we’re lying in bed, facing each other, our bodies naked and entwined.
“I’ll miss you,” I tell her.
“I’ll miss you, too,” she says, pushing a lock of hair from my forehead. “You need a haircut.”
“I’ll get one over the next few weeks. I’ll be so handsome when I get to Seattle, you won’t recognize me.”
She smiles, her grin warm and lazy.
“I’ll recognize you. You’re mine.”
You’re mine.
Jesus, her words burn through me like a bolt of lightning. My cock, which should be exhausted after two rounds inside of her, twitches.
“Are you going to ship anything down?” she asks. “Or just check everything?”
Over the last few weeks, I’ve become really enamored with talking about the future. I love imagining what our life will look like far beyond the now. I love thinking about us living at her place in Seattle and coming back to mine in the spring. I love imagining us as a married couple. Or as parents with a couple of kids who spend the school year at the academy where their mom is a teacher, and their summers in Skagway, where their dad is a tour guide. Once you find what you want forever, it’s like you finally have permission to talk about it, to lean into it, to do more than just fantasize about it. Lately, I find reality totally intoxicating.
“Probably just luggage. Clothes, shoes, toiletries. Most of my winter clothes.” I think about the bulkiness of my two winter parkas and the several pairs of giant winter boots I own. I’ll need them in Seattle more than I’ll need them here. “You know? Maybe I will ship some of it. I’m trying to figure out what stays and what goes. It’s weird that we’ll have two homes. Do we keep duplicates of everything in each place? Or shuttle stuff back and forth?”
“I’m trying to figure out the same,” she says. “Like, shouldn’t I leave most of my summer clothes here?”
“I wish you would,” I say. “But fair warning, I’ll do creepy things to your T-shirts like sleep with them after you go.”
“That’s sweet, not creepy.”
I kiss the tip of her nose, then nuzzle it with mine.
“How are your folks doing with everything?” I ask her. “Getting used to our plan?”
“They’re coming around. I’m not sure they trust it yet. I mean, I think they’re still scared I’ll suddenly decide to move to Skagway, lock, stock, and barrel. But they love that you got a job down there. Even if it’s just for six months, they were really reassured by that.”
“Wait a second! Are you saying they’re starting to like me?”
“I’m saying they seem to hate you a lot less.”
“Ouch,” I say, grimacing at her.
She chuckles. “Once they meet you, they’ll adore you. They already call you ‘El Rubio.’”
“Which means?”
“The Blond.”
I give her a look. “The Blond? Are you serious?”
“What can I say?” She shrugs. “We’re all brunettes. You’re going to be a novelty.”
“Hey,” I say, “I didn’t know this, but Kit told me there’s a fair amount of travel with the location scouting job. I didn’t realize that. I might be gone now and then. I hope that’s okay.”
“Traveling around Seattle for a few days here and there is very different from living 1,600 miles away from each other,” she says. “And every time you finish scouting, you’ll come home to me, right?”
“Every time,” I promise her.
She presses against me, rubbing her still-damp sex against my cock. I want her again. I always want her, and not having her over the next few weeks is going to hurt.
“I’m going to miss it here,” she says, her voice gravelly and her eyes shining like onyx in the moonlight. She pushes me onto my back and rolls on top of me. Straddling my waist, she rubs her core against my stomach; then she slides down, leans up, holds my shaft upright and lowers herself onto me. “I’m going to miss you like crazy, Hunter Stewart.”
I reach for her full, perfect breasts as she slides back and forth on my erect cock, her hands flat on my pecs and her head thrown back. I drink in the sight of her riding me. I memorize us like this, perfectly and deeply connected on every possible level. When I’m about to come, I sit up, holding her hips still and staring into her eyes.
“I’m going to love you until the end of time,” I promise her.
Reaching between our bodies, I stroke her clit for the second it takes for her to come, and then I let go, too, joining my love in perfect bliss.
***
Skagway changes in September.
Even with cruise ships still stopping in port until early-October, they don’t come with the same frequency as they did in June, July, and August.
The college kids who flocked to town for summer work have gone home.
The average high is fifty-six degrees, and the average low is in the forties.
On the first of September the sun sets at eight o’clock, and by the thirtieth it sets at six-thirty.
Every day is a little colder. Every night is a little darker.
Summer comes to an abrupt close, made all the starker for me by Isabella’s absence. I miss her. I miss her terrible. Although we talk every day, it’s not enough. I yearn for my woman with every cell in my body. October first can’t come soon enough.
Though I shared my plans with Harper a few weeks back, I haven’t explained everything to my family yet. I wait for a quiet night the week after Harper’s wedding, and ask her to come up to Dyea and join us for dinner. It’s time to tell them all I’m leaving for Seattle at the end of the month…and I won’t be back until spring.
That we’re a close-knit family is a fact, and I’ve no doubt that losing my mom at such a young age bonded all six of us siblings even closer together. Tanner got married and brought his bride to Dyea to settle down. Harper married someone local. I’ll be the first of us to leave, and even though I’ll be back for a week between Christmas and New Year’s and for the entire summer, I sense I’m the first to cross an imaginary line that we’ve all respected until now. I’m changing something profound and drastic in the fabric of my family…and it makes me nervous.
With only two cabins occupied tonight, dinner is a quick and tidy affair, and the guests are anxious to get to bed early, so we don’t go to the trouble of having a campfire. More’s the better; it’s getting too chilly, anyway.
As Sawyer and Reeve get up to start clearing our dishes to the kitchen, I stop them.
“Hey, everyone,” I say, standing up. “I have something to share. Can you all stay at the table for a minute?”
I look over at Harper, who winks at me, encouraging me to go on. Sawyer and Reeve sit back down. Suddenly, all eyes are on me.
I clear my throat. “So, you all know that Isabella went back to Seattle a few weeks ago, and I think you all know that she’s coming back to manage Freya’s boutique next summer.”
McKenna beams at me. So far, so good.
“But the fact is, we love each other.” I let these words settle over the room for a second before continuing because they’re my reason for every decision I’ve made for my future. “She’s my person. My forever person.”
“Yes!” yells Tanner. “Let’s gooooo, brother!” I grin at him, grateful for his enthusiasm until he asks, “When’s she moving up here?”
I glance at Harper again, and she gives me a little nod.
Go ahead. Tell them. It’ll be okay.
I turn back to Tanner. “Good, um…good question, Tan. So, yeah. We realized that a long-distance relationship wouldn’t work for us. Not in the long-term. We need to be together.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Parker stiffen in her seat. Shit.
“As you guys know, Isabella works at a school in Seattle. She needs to be there, you know? In person. From Labor Day through Memorial Day.”
Parker crosses her arms over her chest. Beside her, Sawyer sits back in his seat so hard, it scrapes the floor. I can feel the tension they’re generating, and it makes my stomach churn. I hate it that I’m about to disappoint and hurt them. I hate that hurting them is the cost of making this happen for me and Isabella.
“You’re leaving,” says Parker, her voice flat, but her blue eyes piercing.
“I’m leaving,” I confirm. “I’m moving to Seattle in two weeks—”
“You can’t!” Reeve, who’s sitting beside me, gasps.
“Of course he can, babycakes.” Harper reaches for Reeve’s hand and squeezes it, then looks up at me. “Tell them the rest.”
“Our plan is that we’ll live at her place in Seattle from October to April and up here from May to September.”
I look at Parker, who stares up at me with silent condemnation. My middle sister and I have never been particularly close, but I love her, and she loves me. She’s the still water that runs deep in our family. Intense and clannish, somehow gentle and fierce at the same time, Parker is insanely protective.
“Is that it?” she asks.
“It?”
“You’re leaving Skagway. For six months.” She stands up and puts her hands on her hips. “Are you finished sharing?”
“That’s the gist of it, I guess.”
“Great,” she says, picking up the stack of plates she’d already collected and taking them into the kitchen.
“She’ll be okay,” says Harper, leaning over Reeve to catch my eyes. “She’s just upset.”
“She’s not the only one,” says Sawyer, reaching for the platter in the center of the table and following Parker to the kitchen.
Fuck, this isn’t going well.
I look at Reeve, who’s still clutching Harper’s hand. “Reeve? You okay?”
“I’m going to miss you,” she says, her voice thin. Her eyes are full of tears when she looks up at me.
“I’ll come back at New Year’s,” I promise her. “That’s only three months from when I leave. You’ll barely have time to miss me.”
“Yes, I will. A lot. It w-won’t be the same here w-without you,” she sobs, jumping up from the table and running to the kitchen.
With my three youngest siblings upset, I turn to my father. “Dad?”
“Reeve’s not wrong,” he says. “We’ll miss you, son.” He sits back in his seat, offering me a small grin. “I remember when your mother moved up from Oregon. Your aunt Charlotte was fit to be tied. But they worked it out. Families figure out how to make room for everyone. How to make time. Your brothers and sisters will figure it out, too.”
“I, for one, am dang happy for you, Hunter,” says Paw-Paw. “She’s a nice girl, your Isabella. Great dancer, too. I liked her from the start.”
Thank God for Paw-Paw.
“Gran?” I look over at the woman who mothered me when I lost my own.
“You’ve got to follow your heart, grandson,” she tells me. She manages to smile at me, though her old blue eyes are sad when she adds, “I wish you the best of luck, and I’ll be counting down the days until summer comes.” She nudges Paw-Paw as she stands up. “Come help me with the dishes, old man. We’ll do a little damage control, huh? Gary, you, too. Come and talk some sense into your kids.”
I’m left alone with Harper, Tanner, and McKenna.
“Hunter,” says McKenna, looking sheepish and excited at the same time, “I’m so happy for you guys. I mean, I get my best friend living around the corner from me next summer! It’s a dream come true!” Her smile fades to a cringe. “But I feel guilty, too. Iz only came up here because of me, and now—”
“I’m going to stop you there,” I tell her firmly. “Meeting Isabella is the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m full of gratitude for you, McKenna. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.” I slide my eyes to Tanner. “I know you understand, man.”
“I’ll miss you,” says Tanner, his voice gravelly. “But yeah, I do. I understand. A hundred percent.”
He puts his arm around his wife, pulling her closer.
“It’s going to be okay, Hunter,” says Harper. “You know that, right?”
“I only know I can’t live without her. Not anymore.”
“It’s going to be okay,” echoes Tanner, mustering a tight grin for me. “Harper’s right, as usual.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” I tell him, trying not to smile like the idiot-in-love that I am, “because I need a big favor from you and your wife before I go.”
***
Isabella
Love is amazing.
Last year at this time, I’d already broken things off with Hunter, and even though no one I met subsequently could hold a candle to him, I was sure I’d made the right choice for my life. I’d been burned by a long-distance relationship once before, and I wasn’t going to let that happen again. Hunter Stewart was this cute, amazing guy with whom I’d had a surprisingly satisfying and intense weekend fling. But there was no hope for us, no future to envision. We had fun. Nothing less. But nothing more.
And now? A year later?
I’m standing in the arrivals area of SeaTac, holding a fistful of balloons, waiting for the love of my life, who’s relocating to Seattle so we can be together.
Love changes you.
Love transforms you,
With it, nothing is impossible.
Over the tops of the many heads I see approaching, I can’t miss his. El Rubio is tall and blond and beautiful…and mine.
I race forward, clutching my half dozen balloons as I run into his arms. He lets his bags fall, and catches me in his arms, our lips meeting with such force and purpose, our teeth smash together.
“Ouch!”
“Ooof!” he grunts, reaching up to rub his now-bloody lip.
“Hunter!” I cry. “I’m so sorry!”
“Worth it.” He chuckles, running his tongue over his teeth. Still holding me tight with one arm around my waist, he grins down at me. “Damn, you look good, woman.”
“So do you.”
“Wanna try that again?”
“Yes, please,” I say, winding my arms around his neck. The balloons unthread from my fingers and fly away. I don’t care—I’m not letting go of him. Ever.
We kiss long and hard, deprived of one another for a long and torturous four weeks apart. By the time we lean away, we’re both dazed and panting…and he’s sporting a sizable bulge in the front of pants; it presses into me as we hold each other close.
“I lost your balloons,” I whisper, leaning my head back to look at them, colorful and jolly, clinging to the hangar-like ceiling of the airport terminal.
“How close is your place?” he mutters close to my ear.
“Not far,” I say, “but didn’t you check bags?”
“Fuck. I did.”
“So, calm down a little,” I say, looking down between us meaningfully, and swallowing a giggle, “and let’s go get them.”
“It’s good to see you,” he says. “I missed you like crazy, baby.”
“I missed you, too,” I tell him, leaning up on tiptoes to kiss him quickly again.
He steps away from me and reaches for his bags, slipping the strap of a duffel bag over his shoulders and adjusting its bulk to cover his crotch before reaching for the rolling bag he dropped.
“Can I help?”
“Nah. I’ve got these two, and two more really big checked bags,” he says. “You wanna pull your car around, and I’ll bring it all out?”
I hate letting him out of my sight even for a second, but I remind myself that he’s moved here to be with me. I don’t have to hold on so tight.
“Sure,” I say. “I’ll be the one waiting outside in the blue piece-of-shit Honda Accord.”
“Blue piece-of-shit Honda Accord,” he says cheerfully. “Got it!”
Thirty minutes later, his bags are taking up every available bit of space in my back seat and trunk, and we’re headed north to my condo in the culturally diverse neighborhood of South Park. My grandparents settled in this part of Seattle decades ago, and most of my family still lives there. I bought my two-bedroom condo for $285,000 three years ago, and in Seattle, where housing is ludicrously overpriced, I still consider that a bargain for what I got. I have two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a chef’s kitchen. But the real pièce de résistance is my living room, which has a full wall of windows where South Park treetops underline a view of the Seattle skyline. Three years later, and I still marvel at that view every time I enter my home. I love this city. I do.
But I also loved Skagway over the summer, and I can’t wait to return with Hunter to our cabin in the woods this spring. The best of both worlds. A perfect mix of two people and the places they call home.
“You got the house all closed up for the winter?” I ask him, marveling that he’s here in my city, here in my car, sitting next to me.
“Yep. Heat and water off. Everything sealed up tight. I got some plantings in before the first frost,” he tells me. “The front porch is going to be awesome next summer.”
“Where will we stay over New Year’s?”
“In one of the guest cabins,” he says. “I don’t think we should re-open our place until I get there in April.”
Ourplace. God, I love him.
“I hope you like my condo,” I say. “It’s so weird to me that you’ve never been there.”
“Like buying a place sight unseen, huh?” he asks. “Nah. I trust you. If you love it, I will too.”
“Will it be a culture-shock for you to live in the city for half the year?”
“A little bit, maybe. At first. But I’ll get used to it. Better to be here with you than anywhere else far away.”
“I hope you always feel like that,” I tell him in a sudden rush. “I hope you never feel like you gave up too much for me.”
He looks at me askance. “I hope the same for you. We’re both making sacrifices, Bella. Not just me.”
“I feel like you’re giving up more.”
“I’m not,” he says. “It feels pretty even to me. Fair. A good compromise for us and our families. One I’m happy to make.”
“Will Parker, Sawyer, and Reeve ever forgive me for taking you away?”
“They’ll have to.” He shrugs, trying to look nonchalant, though a twitching muscle in his jaw betrays less confidence than he projects. “How about your family? Will they forgive me for taking you away this summer and next?”
I mimic his shrug. “They’ll have to.”
He reaches for my hand, entwining his fingers through mine in a sweet act of solidarity. We ride that way in companionable silence until we’re home.
***
“Give me a hint!” I demand as we wait outside my condo for an Uber to pick us up.
“No way,” he says. “It’s our first date night in Seattle, and you promised I could plan it.”
“I know,” I say, smoothing the skirt of my navy-blue cocktail dress. “But I’m not used to dressing up. You’ve got me curious!”
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he says, kissing my forehead tenderly. “You look completely gorgeous, baby.”
I feel completely gorgeous, if not a tiny bit sore. Even though he must have been exhausted after three flights that took over twelve hours and got him here late this morning, we had sex four times after getting to my condo. In a handful of hours, we’ve already christened the kitchen, the living room, my bedroom, and one of the bathroom showers. So yes, I’m a little achy now, but I welcome that feeling; I love feeling—in every possible way—like I belong to Hunter Stewart.
The Uber picks us up, and he waits for me to slide into the back seat before joining me. Because he’s arranged our destination with the driver, I still have no idea where we’re headed, though we’re moving north, so it looks like we’re going to downtown Seattle.
Fifteen minutes later, we pull up to the special valet parking area reserved for patrons of the Loupe Lounge, located on top of Seattle’s most iconic landmark, the Space Needle.
I turn to him when the car stops. “We need reservations.”
“We have them,” he says, grinning at me. “Have you ever been to the top?”
“Of course,” I say. “But never to the lounge! It’s super expensive and fancy!”
He opens his door and jumps out, then opens my door for me.
“Are you impressed?” he asks, helping me from the car.
He got his hair cut, as promised, and is wearing khaki slacks, a starched, white button-down shirt, and a navy blazer—he’s so handsome, I can’t believe he’s mine.
“Absolutely!” I tell him, lifting one stiletto-heeled foot as I kiss him.
As our car drives away, he takes my hand and leads me to the VIP check-in reserved for patrons of Loupe. A glass elevator takes us up to the glass floored, 360° rotating cocktail bar and restaurant 500 feet over the city of Seattle.
When we arrive, it feels like we’re on top of the world, the lights of Seattle twinkling like gemstones at our feet. It takes my breath away, it’s so stunning.
We’re led to a table by the windows, where a bottle of champagne is chilling in a silver ice bucket. Once we are seated, the waiter pours us each a glass, then leaves us alone.
“Hunter! This is beautiful!”
“It’s perfect. Just like you.”
He holds up his champagne flute, like he wants to make a toast.
“What did I do to deserve you?” I ask.
“You gave us a second chance,” he says, his voice deep and earnest. His blue eyes seize mine. “Isabella…”
He puts his flute back on the table and takes a deep breath. Before I can fully process what he’s doing, he slides from his chair onto the floor. On one knee, looking up at me, he reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a small black velvet box with “Freya’s” written in gold script on top.
I gasp, my eyes filling with tears as I finally realize what’s happening.
He flicks open the box to reveal a diamond ring set in 14k gold, flanked by two perfect white pearls.
“Isabella Maria Gonzalez, there will never come a day when I don’t want to wake up and fall asleep by your side. There will never be a mountain too high, a river too wide, or an ocean too deep to keep me away. I choose you, mi amor, for this day, and every day hereafter. I choose you because I can’t—I don’t want—to live another day without you.”
He pauses for a second, scanning my face.
“I know how much your family means to you. I hope it’s okay that I called your dad last week to ask for his permission.”
“And he gave it?” I whisper, wiping the tears from my cheeks. I’m so touched by his thoughtfulness, I think my heart might burst from my chest. “Not that it really matters, but…did he?”
“It took a little convincing, but…” Hunter nods. “He did.”
My parents don’t know it yet, but they’re going to love him. Maybe even more than they love me.
“And I know how much McKenna means to you, so…” He glances at the ring, gently removing it from its white cushion. “She and Tanner joined me at Freya’s to choose it.”
More tears slide down my cheeks. How can you keep from crying when all of your dreams are coming true right in front of you? When the person you love most in the world—the person you will love until the end of time—is about to ask you to—
“I love you. I’ll love you until the day I die. I never want to be further from you than I am right now.” He reaches for my hand. “Will you marry me?”
—be his wife?
“Y-Yes!” I cry, holding out my trembling hand as he slips my beautiful ring onto the fourth finger. “Yes!”
The entire restaurant erupts in applause as I slide from my chair onto Hunter’s knee.
“I love you, too,” I tell him.
“We figured it out,” he says.
“Yes, we did,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him like there’s no tomorrow.
But there is a tomorrow, of course.
And one after that.
And another after that one, too.
And I intend to spend all of them—every single one—next to him.
THE END