Chapter 25 Ruger #2
He pauses for a second, then answers, Not in the way you’re asking.
Again, I nod.
My whole life, people have acted like marriage and babies are something I should be working toward, he continues.
When it happens, I want it to sneak up on me.
I want to suddenly realize that her texts are the ones I look forward to.
I want to put down the book I’m in the middle of just because she walks in the room and my eyes can’t focus on anything but her.
I want her to be so woven into my life that there is no future without her in it. You know?
My mind instantly goes to Wrenley and how much I dread when I next have to spend a day without her. How she is the first person I want to talk to in the morning and the last face I want to see when I close my eyes at night.
Yeah, I say quietly. I know.
We round a corner and see Remi and Wrenley stopped beside a large boulder. Wrenley is crouched, focus on retying her shoe, some of her loose curls falling forward, while Remi leans against the large rock, drinking from her water bottle.
Everything okay? I ask.
Wrenley stands up. Everything is now. She gives her boot an experimental stomp.
Let’s go, Remi says, starting back along the trail.
Brandt falls in step beside Remi, and she immediately picks up the conversation like nothing has changed. The switch in hiking partners doesn’t seem to faze her in the slightest.
I watch them head up the hill for a moment, then turn to Wrenley. You good?
Yeah. Crisis averted.
I nod, and we start walking again. My hand finds hers naturally, our fingers threading together like we’ve done this a hundred times before. She squeezes gently, and it makes me feel so settled having her close.
How are you liking the hike? I ask.
It’s great, she says. A little long. It’s been what? Two hours?
I clear my throat, attempting to cover the small laugh that wants to come out. Maybe twenty minutes.
Her eyes widen. That’s it?
That’s it.
Her eyes travel up the trail before swinging over her shoulder toward the path we already covered.
But we’ve been walking forever.
Only twenty minutes, I say, tugging her closer so I can press a quick kiss to her temple as we walk.
Go on a hike, they said. It’ll be fun.
A smile tugs at my mouth. Are you not having fun?
No, I’m having fun, she says quickly. It’s just shocking that twenty minutes here is the equivalent of two hours anywhere else. It’s like I’m in some kind of time-space continuum.
I don’t think you’re using that right.
Physically, I am.
Unable to stop myself, I laugh.
You’re ridiculous, I say, looking at her and smiling. But you’re my ridiculous.
She smiles back, and I wish I could freeze time. I want to forget all the questions that don’t have answers and keep feeling like the future is too far away to touch us.
And it’s in that moment that I realize I’m falling in love with her.
It makes sense. The moments you end up wanting to keep forever are often never huge ones.
They’re the simple things like these silly conversations hand in hand that somehow become everything.
If I could choose, I’d hold on to this moment a little longer.
I’d stretch it out until the rest of the world disappeared and all that existed was the trail beneath our feet and us.
She turns her attention back to the trail ahead of us, and I do my best not to blurt out how I feel.
Partly because I need time to sit with it myself.
Mostly because I don’t want her decision to be influenced by me.
If she stays, it has to be because staying is right for her.
Because this life, this town, and everything that comes with it is what she truly wants.
I want her to choose her future freely, not because she feels she needs to placate my feelings.
The trail continues to climb, winding through spruce and pine as conversation between the four of us ebbs and flows. The further we hike, the more the tension of everything ahead fades into the background. It’s replaced with laughter and the simple pleasure of spending time together.
Eventually, trees begin to thin, and golden autumn sunlight spills across the trail.
I squeeze Wrenley’s hand. Almost there.
We step out of the tree line and into the opening.
Mountains rise in every direction, their peaks dusted with early snow.
Below us, the valley stretches toward the horizon in a patchwork of gold and green, a river cutting through like silver ribbon.
The sky feels impossibly large and completely endless.
Even though I’ve done this hike countless times, this view always takes my breath away.
I turn toward Wrenley. What do you think—
The words die in my throat.
She’s staring out across the valley, completely motionless.
The breeze catches some of her loose hair and sends it dancing across her cheek, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
Her eyes are wide, her lips slightly parted, and for a moment, she looks so completely overwhelmed by the beauty of it all that I don’t even think she heard me speak.
And standing here, watching wonder wash across her face, I realize the view isn’t the most beautiful thing in front of me. I’m starting to think I’ll do anything to keep her.