Chapter 17 #2
“Come home with me tonight,” I say quietly.
She beams at me.
We drive home, the music playing on his radio as Hazel sings along, slightly drunk but not completely.
We talk about everything and anything, the conversation never slowing or halting.
It’s so natural and easy with her. I see her eyes sparkling as she looks at me and my heart tightens with love and desire.
This is my woman, the only one I can be with.
As we reach the cabin, the laughter turns into giggles and teasing touches. We feel like teenagers again, the joy of the festival filling our blood, exciting us.
I’ve barely managed to unlock the door when Hazel’s mouth is on my neck.
I pull her inside as she bites down. The door clicks shut, and I don’t even give her time to breathe before I’m kissing her, pinning her back against the wood.
Hazel laughs into my mouth, the sound bright and giddy, her fingers clawing at my shirt like she’s just as desperate as I am.
She pulls back just enough to whisper, sly and breathless, “What about Max and Scout?”
“With a friend tonight,” I rasp, tugging her sweater up and over her head in one rough pull. “No interruptions.”
Her grin turns wicked. “Good. Because I don’t want to be quiet.”
Her boots hit the door with a dull thud when I lift her, her legs wrapping around me. We stumble into the frame, laughing until her laugh turns into a sharp gasp as I press hard against her, both of us already trembling with urgency.
“Luke,” she moans, head falling back when my mouth trails down her neck. The sound breaks something loose in me, raw and hungry.
“Tell me what you need,” I groan, sliding my hand beneath her jeans.
She bucks against my palm, already wet, already trembling. “You. Now.” Her words shatter into a helpless cry when I stroke her, her body arching into my touch.
That’s all I need. I shove her jeans down just enough, push mine low, and then I’m inside her in one deep, unsteady thrust. She cries out, clutching my shoulders, the sound echoing in the cabin like a plea.
“Hazel,” I grit, forehead pressed to hers, breath ragged. “You feel so damn good.”
Her nails bite into my skin as she whimpers, then gasps again when I start to move—harder, faster, the door groaning behind us with every thrust. Her moans spill out freely, little broken sounds of pleasure that make me lose any sense of control.
She tilts her head back, hair brushing the wood, her cries rising higher with every deep stroke until her voice fractures. “Luke—God, Luke—”
I bury myself deeper, swallowing her sounds with my mouth, her moans trembling against my lips. And then, just as her body clenches around mine, she blurts it out—raw, choked, unguarded.
“I love you.”
The words slam into me harder than any touch, harder than her nails clawing at my shoulders or her body wrapped around me.
For a heartbeat, everything inside me seizes—the years of silence, of wondering if she ever felt the same, of fearing I’d lost her forever.
It all crashes down, replaced by a tidal wave of relief so fierce it burns in my chest.
“Hazel…” My voice cracks as I drive into her, deeper, harder, desperate to anchor myself in the truth of her words. My forehead presses to hers, eyes stinging as I whisper, rough and broken, “Say it again. Please.”
Her voice breaks on a cry, sweet and fierce all at once. “I love you, Luke.”
That undoes me completely. My chest aches with it, my throat tight, my body shuddering as I lose myself in her—her voice, her cries, her love—until I’m groaning her name against her mouth, clinging to her like she’s the only thing keeping me upright.
When it’s over, we stay tangled against the door, her soft moans fading into laughter as she buries her face against my neck.
I hold her tighter, breathless, overwhelmed, smiling through the tears burning at the corners of my eyes.
Because after everything, after all the years apart, she still loves me—and that’s all I’ll ever need.
* * *
The second day of the festival finds us strolling hand in hand through the town square in the afternoon.
The festival is quieter today—more families with young children, fewer teenagers, a more relaxed pace overall.
We’ve just finished sharing a funnel cake and are wandering past the craft booths when Hazel grows quiet.
“Luke,” she says, stopping beside a display of handmade quilts. “I need to tell you something.”
The seriousness of her voice has me pausing. “What is it?”
She takes a deep breath. “I got a call this morning from the board of my old company. I’m flying back next week.”
The words have me hand stilling. My heart doesn’t just skip—it nearly stops entirely. The festival noise around us fades to a dull roar as panic floods my system. “Your decision is final then?” My voice comes out rougher than I intended. “Can’t I change it? Tell me what I can—”
She takes her hand in mine, pressing it to her cheek. “I told you I loved you last night. I meant it. I’m only going for a few days, Luke, to fix everything and give them a guide to handle things without me. I need to do a proper handover.”
“Without you?” Hope starts to raise its head, tentative and afraid to believe. “What do you mean?”
Her smile widens. “They offered me a director position if I would return. Derek is going to be fired. Jessica as well.” She pauses. “I refused the job, but I told them I’d fix the damage in exchange for a public apology and heavy compensation.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. “So you’re coming back then?”
She wraps her arms around my neck, her eyes bright with love. “I’ve accepted a job in the county—Director of Emergency Management Technology. I’ll be working from here, from home.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, still afraid this might all disappear. “Are you absolutely certain you won’t regret this?”
“Luke, I want you to know that I never stopped loving you. Not for a single day in eight years.” Her voice is steady, certain. “I want you back. I want our life here back.”
The relief is so overwhelming I can barely think straight. I don’t remember lifting her up, but suddenly I’m spinning her around right there in the middle of the festival path, her laughter ringing out over the sound of children playing and vendors hawking their wares.
When I set her down, I capture her mouth in a kiss that tastes like coming home, like second chances, like everything I’ve dreamed of for eight years.
“I want our whole future,” she whispers against my lips as we break apart. “In our cabin, with Scout and Max. All of it.”
“All of it,” I agree, resting my forehead against hers. “Every morning, every evening, every season.” My voice drops to a whisper. “I love you, Hazel. I never stopped either.”
“I know,” she says softly, her hands threading through my hair. “We lost so much time, but we have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”
Around us, the festival continues—children’s laughter mixing with the distant sound of fiddle music, the scent of kettle corn and autumn leaves in the air. But all I can focus on is the woman in my arms, the promise of our future written in her eyes.
“When you come back from LA,” I say, “we’ll do this right. No more hiding, no more uncertainty. Just us.”
“Just us,” she agrees, and kisses me again.
Standing there in the middle of the fall festival, surrounded by the golden light filtering through the autumn leaves, holding the woman I love in my arms as she promises me forever, I realize that sometimes the best things in life are worth waiting for. And some kinds of magic are real after all.