35. Paige
35
Paige
O n our way back from filling the gas can, Frida decides to play some Dolly Parton, which seems to make everyone in the car more lively than when we first crawled in.
Cleo curled around Rhodes’ shoulders, avoiding Clementine like she had an incurable disease—I suppose being a dog fits that bill. I’m partially sitting on Rhodes’ lap while Timmy and Babi squish toward the other side of the car, and Constance sits in the middle with Clementine on her lap.
The man driving hasn’t said one word and has to roll down the windows when our collective breathing starts fogging them up.
I lean into Rhodes, still in astonishment he’s here while also relishing how solid and real he feels. I try to speak quieter than Dolly’s chorus. “I take back everything I said about your car being small.”
“I accept.”
Feeling eyes on me, I peer to my side. Clementine is still staring. “Is she looking at me or you?”
“Both of us?” Rhodes rests a hand on my thigh. “No, you know what, she’s probably watching Cleo.”
Cleo might be staying clear of Clementine’s jump radius, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t taunted her with a swishing tail and low growl. She is petty, after all. Clementine whines at the back of her throat but doesn’t take the bait.
My van comes into view once again, and I sigh with relief—but not too much, because breathing in this cramped space is hard.
“Did you text Amber and my parents back, by the way?” I hate knowing everyone was so worried about me while I was napping and eating orange slices.
Rhodes nods. “She alerted your parents, Machete Lady, and the media that you are indeed alive.”
“The media?” I question.
He shrugs. “You know how Amber is when she’s worried.”
I do because it wouldn’t have been the first time I’ve scared her like this. Once, she even had the cops swing by my house for a wellness check. I was just reupholstering a chair and hadn’t looked at my phone in hours.
“Well,” I start when the car comes to a stop. “Thank you so much for driving us to the gas station. I really appreciate it.”
“You are so welcome, darlin’,” Frida says, and the man driving grumbles. For every one hundred words she speaks, her husband says negative ten. “I’m so glad y'all found each other.”
I nod my head. “Me, too.”
There is still so much to talk about, to explain.
But there isn’t time for that since Frida adds, “Your love triangle is inspiring.”
I peer over at Constance, who has been tapping the beat of every Dolly Parton song on Clementine’s back. How does she know every song ? I could have sworn I heard a few lyrics fall from her mouth as well.
Constance gives some sort of fake laugh that is far too loud and nowhere near her real one. “Frida, dear, everyone knows squares are better!”
Rhodes whispers in my ear, “I prefer rectangles.”
The memory of a time when I thought my best friend was someone else and I described my body type to him comes back, making my face flush with heat.
Frida’s brows crinkle like she’s confused by all of the shape talk.
When they park in front of Vincent VanGo, Rhodes pulls Cleo from his shoulders, her claws fully extended and clinging to his T-shirt as though she’ll never release him. He offers me a hand and then Constance.
But Constance shakes her head, a sly grin tugging at her lips as she and Rhodes have a conversation between their eyes.
He slams the door, and Frida cranes out the window. “What about your wife?”
Rhodes keeps smiling at Constance. “You can keep her.”
We wave politely until the family is out of sight, Constance joining their fun, at least for now, and I can finally breathe.
Except when I look at Rhodes, then I can’t.
There’s a steadiness to his gaze that’s new and unrelenting. I tug at the hem of my T-shirt, if only because he makes me feel more exposed. He’s seen me half-naked, and we’ve admitted things to each other. New and exciting things that are also vague and open-ended because there is so much time in our future for me to screw this up.
“Where’d you go?” he asks, setting the gas can down by the front tire without looking away. “You’re chewing on your bottom lip, and your color is washed out.”
I sink my hands into the back pockets of my jean shorts. “What do you mean? I’m always pale.”
He quirks his head to the side. “Are you worried about something?”
Just the quality and longevity of life for this new relationship of ours. “No.”
He shifts on his feet, holding Cleo against his chest with one arm. “Paige.”
“What?” I turn and open the van door. “It’s nothing.”
He walks around me to put Cleo inside the van, but he doesn’t go in or retrieve the gas can to get us out of this bind. He shuts the door and watches me.
I squirm. “This feels new.”
“It does,” he agrees but waits for me to continue.
Another car passes by, and I can only wonder what they think is happening right now between us. I barely know.
I exhale and peer up at him, even if my eye contact is dodgy. “What if I mess this up?” The truth rolls off my tongue easily, but it still shocks me. “I…I don’t want to. But my history isn’t exactly stellar.”
“I’m aware.” He gives me a cheeky grin.
I turn my attention to the packed earth under my feet that’s slightly dampened and littered with rocks, leaves, twigs, and bits of trash I promise myself to pick up later. It’s chilly out, and goosebumps rise on my arms and legs.
He notices and steps closer. “I can’t look into the future and know what will happen.” That’s unfortunate . “But we’re here now. You’re safe. And I’m committed.”
I’m committed .
Those two words jilt my heart as he says them. They are like finally remembering the combination to your bike lock after forgetting or finding leftovers in your fridge from the night before that you thought were long gone.
It’s excitement mixed with a kind of relief I haven’t felt this whole trip. It’s as if The Itch inside me quiets down enough to hear him out.
“Thank you.” My voice is barely audible.
He extends his hand for me to take and pulls me to him. He bends, nuzzling his nose into the base of my neck and inhaling deeply. “We are in this together now. With all of our messy.”
Tears perch on my eyelids as I sink further into his chest, relishing the familiar scent of my best friend, who is also more. So much more.
Minutes pass before either of us makes a move or says anything. But when he finally does, his words are low, an invitation.
“We could fill the gas up later,” he suggests.
“We could.”
“Are you hungry?”
I shake my head against his firm body.
“Do you need anything?”
Just you , my mind wants to say, but I hold back. Not because I don’t think he’d appreciate it, but because I’m still treading carefully. I want to climb this man so fast, but I’ve already tried rushing it. What if he isn’t ready? What if he still wants to wait?
“Nothing,” I say, nuzzling closer.
Circling his arms around my waist tighter, he steps us back until I’m against the side passenger door. “Are you sure?”
I swallow, tipping my head up to stare into his lowered gaze. “I’m positive.”
He slowly leans closer, giving me every chance to escape, to turn and do something else I’ve already told him I don’t need to do right now.
I don’t move.
His pace is slow, drawing out every desire from my body in the multitude of seconds it takes for his lips to touch mine.
“Rhodes,” I say, his lips hovering close.
One hand caresses my cheek, dropping lower until he’s cradling the back of my neck and tentatively touching his mouth to mine again. The way my body turns to liquid fire, pooling in too many places as he drags his lips over my wet ones, is welcome. Suddenly, I have so many needs for someone who said they had none.
I need him to touch me.
I need him to hold my body upright.
I need him to get closer.
“You’re here,” I whisper, solidifying everything he went through to be here.
He nods, teasing my lips with gentle brushes before knocking his nose to mine and gingerly pushing the bridge of my glasses up my nose. “I couldn’t get a hold of you.”
I roll my eyes at the absurdity and smile. “One of the bison decided to get a little rough, bumping into my van. Since my window wouldn’t roll up, the next thing I knew, my phone was flying out. The beast and all her friends stepped on it.”
I sound insane trying to recount the story, but he doesn’t think twice.
“So, your phone broke,” he confirms, and I nod. “And it was a bison, not Tarzan?”
My eyes go wide. “Tarzan?”
“Never mind.”
“Is that why you almost hurt that man?” Everything becomes more transparent.
“I kind of lost it on that guy, thinking maybe he would hurt you.” He runs a thumb down my cheek.
“I’m okay,” I tell him.
“I can see that.”
A smile lifts my mouth. “So you flew out here, drove to Yellowstone, and found a ride through the park just to come find me?”
He laughs a little and rubs the back of his neck, other hand content to trace my hip bone. “I guess I did.” His cheeks redden. “I wasn’t trying to crash your trip. But hearing you scream…the way you asked for help…I couldn’t just ignore that. I had to make sure you were okay. I'll always be there for you.”
There are so many questions in my head I want to ask, but all of them pale in comparison to being here with him now. He came for me. He traveled a good distance with my sister, just for me. I don’t want to waste another second asking when, in reality, I already know the answer I really need.
I forcefully push to my tiptoes and kiss him again.
He has to grab me since the brunt with which I leapt at him was more than he was expecting. But he easily settles one hand on my lower back while the other caresses my face, tracing the fuse of our mouths as they move against each other. I can’t get enough of his taste, this kiss, this man I’m so gone for.
It feels like we’ve wasted time. Like maybe we should have been doing this all along. We should have been kissing, hugging, being with one another. Two states later, and I’m just now starting to see what Rhodes saw all along.
And he never gave up on me.
This thought sparks a new rush of emotions that hijack my body.
“You came for me,” I say out loud between kisses.
“I did.” His hand slides to cup my ass, putting space between my back and the van.
I pull back enough to search his eyes. “You always do; you always have.”
He nods. “I always will.”
My expression softens, but the coil winding in my body tightens. It’s like my heart has been released to love this man fully, and I’m helpless to do anything but.