BONUS CHAPTER
SIX MONTHS LATER
After setting up the tripod, I carefully position my camera, making sure everything is just right. The viewfinder shows the deep, velvety purple sky just before dawn—the moment when everything feels like it’s holding its breath, waiting to exhale.
The waves crash gently against the pebbles, their rhythm perfectly in sync with the steady beat of my heart. I watch as each one rolls in, the lighthouse standing tall and perfectly centered in the distance, the perfect backdrop with rocks and scattered sea glass glinting in the foreground.
A breeze sweeps past, carrying the scent of coconut over to me.
It’s comforting, grounding, and I can’t help but glance to my side.
Sloan is sitting on one of the larger rocks next to me, her knees pulled to her chest, her chin resting on them as she watches the world wake up, and my heart does a flip.
God, she’s beautiful.
The way the soft light touches her face, the way her hair catches the slight breeze, it’s all so effortless, so her. I wonder how I got so lucky. Not just because I woke up but because she was there. She waited for me, rooted for me, like I was worth saving.
That’s something I won’t ever forget, something I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to live up to. I swear, sometimes my breath still catches when I look at her, realizing she’s real. That we’re real.
It’s like falling in love all over again. Every single breath I take.
The purple gives way to yellow, signaling that the sun’s about to break over the edge, so I turn back to the horizon, adjusting the settings on my camera to capture it just right.
I can already picture how the light will burst through, getting that perfect blend of golden rays and a blinding sun flare.
I snap a few shots, and just as the sun peeks up, I get it—a starburst of light so damn perfect, I almost want to clap like an idiot.
“Done,” I say softly, glancing over at Sloan. She’s already watching me, that same soft, proud smile she gives me when I get too caught up in my photographer zone.
Pebbles crunch under her boots as she stands and closes the distance between us to kiss my birthmark. Her lips are so warm, so real, they send a shiver down my spine.
“You get so lost in the moment when you do this,” she murmurs against my skin, her breath feathering over my cheek and spreading a familiar tingle through my chest. The way she says it, I know it’s not just about the photography. It’s about life.
I grasp her chin gently and kiss her, slow and deep.
“Maybe I do get lost,” I whisper, my lips brushing hers.
“But I always find my way back to you.” With one more kiss, I hold her gaze as I ask, “Are you a camera?” She raises an eyebrow, and I let my smirk bloom into something softer as I continue, “Because all I can do is smile when I see you.”
“Oh yeah?” She laughs softly as she steps back and raises her camera, the old analog one from her Nan she loves so much.
“Then say cheese, Casper.” I grin easily, standing still as she lifts the camera to her face.
“You look so handsome in this light,” she whispers, and I can tell she doesn’t even realize she’s said it out loud.
But I hear it, and damn if my heart doesn’t do that stupid little flip again.
You’d think after a year, I’d have it under control. But I doubt it’ll ever stop skipping for her, the one who brought it back to life. Brought me back to life.
The familiar hum of the shutter fills the air, and after a few shots, I can’t resist any longer—I take my camera off the tripod, carefully switching the lens. “My turn.”
She looks amused but steps back and huffs playfully. “I wasn’t done yet.”
“We both know you’ll never be done with me,” I say confidently.
She rolls her eyes, pretending to look fed up. “Keep telling yourself that, Casper.”
I laugh, lifting the camera to snap a few quick shots. It’s a game we play—photographing each other photographing each other. I focus the lens on her, desperate to capture every laugh, every sparkle in her eyes.
A streak of perfect light catches my attention, and I lower my camera.
“Hold still for me, Boo,” I say as I adjust her position with my free hand on her lower back until the golden light hits her just right.
Then I step back to take it, to marvel at the way the sun makes her hair glow like a halo, the way her hazel eyes—the ones that once held such desperate loneliness—now gleam with contentment. It’s breathtaking.
She’s breathtaking.
“Just a few more,” I mutter, but I seem unable to take my finger from the shutter. My hands can’t help themselves. They just want to capture all of her, to freeze these moments forever.
Sloan crosses her arms, pretending to be annoyed, but I know better. “You already have, like, five thousand pictures of me.”
I shrug, smirking faintly. “And it’ll never be enough. Ever.”
Every photo I take of her is proof. Proof that I made it, that I have her, that this is real. It’s something I can look at and know that I’m not dreaming anymore.
She’s my reality.
Her playful scowl turns into a grin when she says, “Then you’ll have to catch me.” And before I know it, she’s darting away down the beach, the sound of her laughter caught by the breeze.
I don’t even think. I just take off after her, snapping a few blurry shots as I go. Her hair flies wild in the wind, her boots kicking up sand and pebbles, and when she looks back at me, there’s pure mischief dancing in her eyes.
So alive, so free.
Both of us.
A year ago, I couldn’t have imagined being here, breathing this in with her by my side.
Hell, a year ago, I was flat on my back, hooked up to machines.
Now, I’m running faster than I probably should be able to.
But damn, the wind in my hair, the ground beneath my feet—it feels good.
I remember all those physical therapy sessions Sloan sat through with me, cheering me on as I took my shaky first steps.
But here I am, chasing the woman I love.
We’ve come a long way since then.
She eventually circles back toward our stuff, and I take the opportunity to quickly set my camera down before taking off after her again.
She squeals in surprise as I catch her around the waist, lift her off the ground, and spin her around in circles while she giggles like she’s never been happier.
The sound wraps around me, filling me with this indescribable warmth, and I can’t stop smiling.
“You’re fast,” she gasps out, breathless, as I press a kiss to the top of her head, holding her tight against me.
“Faster than I used to be,” I admit while I set her down gently and turn her to face me, cupping her cheeks as we both catch our breath. My heart races, but it’s the good kind. The kind that reminds me I’m alive, that I’m living this life with her.
She rises onto her tiptoes, kissing me softly, and after a few languid kisses, I press my forehead to hers. “Time to make a new phone background.”
“You’re ridiculous.” Sloan laughs, shaking her head. “We just made one.”
“Last week’s photo doesn’t have enough spark,” I argue, grinning.
“I need the one where you’re laughing. You know, the real one that makes your pretty nose scrunch up,” I say as I tug her toward the tripod.
I set the camera up again, adjusting it for a few timed shots.
“Come on,” I say, pulling her in front of the ocean and into a hug.
The sun’s higher now, casting everything in a soft, warm glow. “Smile your pretty smile for me, Boo.”
She slips her arms around my waist, and I don’t miss the way her fingers grip the fabric of my hoodie like she’s afraid I might disappear if she lets go. Her cheeks are flushed from running, her eyes so full of life, it makes my chest ache.
I wrap my arm around her, pressing a kiss to her temple as the shutter clicks. Another click, and this time, I kiss her birthmark, lingering just long enough to hear her giggle. Then I scrape my teeth against it, making her laugh again, just as the camera goes off once more, capturing the moment.
“What time is it?” she asks softly, like we’re the only two people in the world.
“Time to get to work. My boss is gonna kick my ass if I’m late,” I joke.
“Your boss is pretty obsessed with you. I think you’ll be fine,” she teases, pulling me down by the strings of my hoodie for another kiss before her hands slip under the hem of it.
I instantly jump back at the feel of other icy fingers on my stomach.
“Damn, woman!” I yelp, and she only cackles like a witch before sprinting away in the direction of her shop.
I shake my head, laughing as I gather up our stuff.
“Keep that up, and I’ll start charging for the cardio.
Some of us just learned how to run again, you know! ”
She’s still running, boots kicking up sand, her laughter echoing through the morning air. But she’s never running away from me, not really. Even if she were, I’d catch her. Every time. Because now, I can follow her anywhere. Forever.
By the time I catch up with her, Sloan is unlocking the door to the garage.
We’re already dressed in our work outfits—grease-stained jeans and black shirts underneath our hoodies with the logo of Sloan’s garage on them, Wrench & Whispers, ready for a day that might or might not involve actual customers.
She swings the door open, her smile bright and triumphant.
“Beat you again,” she brags, pulling off her zip hoodie, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Only because you cheated with those ice-cold hands of yours,” I shoot back, nudging her gently with my shoulder as I step inside.
The shop is quiet, the air cool and smelling faintly of motor oil and metal.
I set the camera gear down beside the customer’s couch, losing my hoodie too, and glancing around the place.
It’s been a few months since we opened, and even though work’s been a little slow, the place already feels like home.