36. Cole
I stir, rolling onto my side as the soft scrape of Sydney’s hair on my cheek pulls me further out of sleep. With a contented sigh, I remember where I am and relish the way it feels to wake up next to her. To feel her skin under my fingertips. The warmth of her body tucked against mine.
Up until now, we’ve been taking our time, dancing around that line we crossed last night. We eased our way into this to be cautious and respectful of our feelings. But now that we’ve been together like this, the way my heart feels like it’s about to explode has made one thing crystal clear to me.
I’m absolutely gone for this girl.
I’m in.
I’m all in.
I have been for a while, if I’m truly honest with myself, but it’s never been more obvious to me than it is right in this very moment. Last night solidified something for me in a big way
Her breathing is calm and steady, the slow rise and fall of her chest telling me she’s still fast asleep. So I climb out of bed slowly, not wanting to wake her.
Shuffling across the floor, I avoid the planks I know will creak under my weight and quietly get dressed for the day.
I slip my boots on, head outside, and click the door shut behind me as quietly as I can. As I walk to the shed, I pick up random branches that blew across the yard last night from the wind.
As I twist to toss them into the woods, I note that my back is pain free for the first time in a while. I’d happily sleep on any surface if it meant being near Sydney, but I can’t say that I’m mad about sleeping on a bed with an actual mattress.
I pull the chainsaw and a few other tools out of the shed and gather a few planks of wood to set next to the tree stump I cut down yesterday. Then I get started crafting a small stool that I can set by the front door to use when taking my boots off at the end of the day.
Having a morning project to work on is my favorite way to start the day. It’s the most peaceful time, and I often find myself zoning out, getting lost in my thoughts. Today is no different as the chainsaw blade has an almost hypnotizing effect, causing me to relive the entirety of my interactions with Sydney.
From the deep emotional connection in those first meetings in high school, to the way it crumbled in a split-second decision to leave town, all the way up to now. All of it further fuels the importance and weight of my feelings for her now.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement on my porch. I stop the chainsaw and glance up to find Sydney wrapped in a wool blanket, her wavy hair a disheveled mess as it hangs past her shoulders. The sight of her loose and undone like that makes my chest ache.
Setting the chainsaw down, I slide my safety goggles off and head toward her.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” I ask with a cringe when I get closer to the porch.
“It’s okay. I needed to get up anyway.” She smiles in a content way—the look of someone who got a restful night’s sleep. I also note that I can’t find a trace of regret anywhere in her expression.
I rest my folded arms on top of the railing, craning my neck to look up at her. I resist the urge to reach out and pull on the blanket to bring her close enough to wrap my arms around her waist.
“How are you feeling?” Regardless of how comfortable she looks, I need to hear her say it out loud.
She locks me in with a tender gaze as she cups my cheek with her hand. As she slides her thumb across my skin, she smiles softly, leaving me weak at the knees.
“Great,” she says quietly but firmly. “And you?”
“Never better,” I mumble, slowly mirroring her smile.
“What’s your plan for the day?” she asks, removing her hand to wrap the blanket tighter around herself.
“Paul sent me a message this morning. He’s coming out to the lodge for breakfast and to visit the cabin. Then I told him I’d help him look for a house in Baudette.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“You?”
“I need to get down to meet Neal by the new glamping spot, but Graham, Blair, and I are heading into town as well after that to visit Mom.”
I search her eyes for signs of anxiety about seeing her mom, and while the grief I find in them might always be there, it’s not at the forefront as much as it was a few short weeks ago.
“Perfect. I can pick you up at the nursing home when I’m done with Paul?” I offer. “We can come back here together?”
“That sounds like a plan.” She bends down, meeting me halfway to press her lips to mine. It sends a surge of electricity through my body—an awareness of what might happen if I follow her back inside and peel that blanket off of her ever so slowly.
“Same time, same place tonight?” I murmur against her lips, feeling them grow into a grin.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” she whispers.
I clear my throat, keeping my gaze locked on her as she backs away.
“Go ahead and get dressed while I clean up out here. Then I’ll bring you down to the lodge,” I offer.
“Okay.” With one last smile, she disappears inside the cabin and I use every ounce of self-control I have to not follow behind her.
I wait patiently by the door of the lodge for Paul to finish up at the bar. I didn’t realize he and Shirley were such good friends, but judging by the warm looks on both of their faces, I’d say they definitely have some sort of past—one that I’m obviously not privy to.
“Sorry,” he says with a cringe when he finally joins me.
“No problem.” I hold the door open for him, and he looks behind his shoulder one last time, his head swiveling as he takes in the updates within the lodge.
“This is looking amazing around here,” he comments. “Your Sydney has done a phenomenal job.”
My Sydney.
I like the way that sounds.
“She’s worked really hard,” I agree. His hand grazes the bear statue as we walk past, but for some reason I hold back on telling him I made it. I don’t feel like I need the accolades from him. He’s the only person from my past who told me he was proud of me often enough for me to actually believe it.
“Hop on.” I point to the ATV. As I take him along the trail up to the cabin, a sense of normalcy comes over me. It’s just him and me, roaming this island like we used to do so many times before.
When we arrive, he immediately takes off wandering toward the beach. I shove my hands in my pockets and follow along, content on letting him do whatever he needs to do while he’s here. Roam around. Reminisce. Whatever he needs.
“Man, it’s been too long,” he breathes. As he looks around, taking heavy deep breaths, his soft nostalgic expression tells me that he holds all of the same memories I have in the same high regard.
“Did you miss it?” I ask, unsure of what his answer will be. It certainly didn’t seem like he did, given he was gone for such a long time, but at the same time, I can’t see how he couldn’t.
“Of course.” He nods with a grin.
“Are you sure you don’t want the cabin back?” I ask cautiously.
He shakes his head vehemently.
“Nah. I’m not much for being attached to things. You saw the backpack of stuff I showed up with,” he says with a chuckle.
I can’t help but smile at that.
“The memories, though. That’s what makes something special. And those have always lived here,” he points to his head and then his heart, “and here.”
An understanding washes over me, and I start to see what he does when he looks around. It’s not the cabin itself that’s special. It’s what we shared here. The countless nights by the campfire. The canoe rides around the island. The way he would read The Catcher in the Rye aloud from the couch while I stoked the logs in the fireplace.
Whether he did them on purpose or not, those little things helped distract me from my reality enough to keep me hanging on. He saved my life in many ways.
“I’m proud of you, son.” He says the same words he used to say, with emotion gripping his voice this time.
“For what?” I ask, my chest warming with my own emotion.
“For coming so far from where you were. For getting through what you did. And coming out the other side.”
All I can do is nod and roll my lips, his words settling deep inside me as we watch the waves crash onto shore.
Eventually, he clears his throat, turning toward the cabin. “Come on. Show me what you’ve done with the inside.”