Sixty-two
Peter
Itiptoed into the fifth wheel in desperate need of a shower. I smelled like a bad mix of smoke and pond and body odor. My jeans had dried stiff. And the long sleeve shirt I’d put on was probably covered in soot. My eyes prickled with exhaustion, and my shoulders sagged.
Sarah had retired to bed a few hours ago, along with Hollie and Bea, who went back to their homes to get some sleep before daybreak. But I stayed back with the cowboys, who picked through the rubble, looking for anything salvageable.
When they found usable tack, I got to work waxing and buffing, running my fingers across each piece, looking for damage. Maybe we should’ve all gone to bed, but everyone was wound up and eager to help in some way.
We were having coffee and a cold breakfast on the porch when Tag and Jesse showed up. But Tag didn’t stay. He put Cooper in his Chevrolet and went straight to Kerrville. Everyone was relieved that Cooper had agreed to see a doctor.
Jesse joined us for a little coffee though, and we filled him in on the details the best we could.
Finally, he ordered everyone to bed, reminding us that the messes would keep for a few hours while we rested.
I was so wired that I thought it would be impossible to go to sleep, but as I grabbed some clothes and Sarah’s ring from the bunkhouse and walked down to the fifth wheel, my energy vaporized like water on hot asphalt.
Shedding my clothes, I stepped into the bathroom shower, scrubbing my arms and face and chest. Part of me wondered if I shouldn’t have let myself in without asking Sarah first, but based on where we had left things, I figured Sarah would want me close by.
And I didn’t know if I was capable of sleeping another night without tucking her against my chest.
Drying off, I pulled on some gym shorts then made my way to the bedroom. Her presence covered the space like rays of light on a window sill. Funny, I’d never experienced that with someone else. I could sense a person in the room on occasion, but I felt something specific near Sarah.
Trying to put words to it wasn’t really possible, but Sarah’s presence felt the same way my shoulders did when I tossed a heavy backpack to the ground. Like walking in the door and flopping on the couch after being homesick.
Comfortable, familiar, and an instant relief.
Inching forward, I eased onto the left side of the bed—she always slept on the right—trying my best not to wake her.
Her soft, quiet breaths shook my tired bones to life.
Slipping my feet between the sheets, my pulse shot sky high as I found her radiating heat.
Attempting to calm my scattered breaths, I took a long, cleansing inhale, scootching closer until my hand found her waist and I pulled her into the spoon of my body.
Right then and there, I knew it’d be a long time before I went to sleep.
And maybe I never would.
Her spine pressed against my chest, and her perfect curves rested in the cradle of my hips as our thighs aligned. I pushed my nose into the back of her short hair, drawing in lungfuls of her scent—flowers and citrus and an earthiness that was hers and hers alone.
I tried to anchor my hand, but…
It wandered, exploring the way the peak of her hip dove into her tender waist, the way her shirt bunched just above her belly button, and her legs—man, those legs.
I stopped breathing completely when my hand trailed up and up her thigh, looking for a hem that maybe didn’t exist. But I finally found it—on the tiniest pair of shorts known to mankind.
I denied the growl building in my throat and removed my hand, scrubbing it down my face instead. How awful would I be to wake her up after she barely slept?
But no sooner had my hand left her body, than she wriggled in protest. “Don’t stop.”
“Wait.” I breathed a soft laugh. “How long have you been awake?”
“The entire time.”
I pressed a kiss beneath her ear, whispering, “So you were just going to lay there and let me suffer forever?”
“Oh, no. Definitely not forever.” With that, she lifted her hands above her head and turned in my arms, facing me. “Because I’m over here suffering too.”
My fingers curled around her leg, directing it over my own, and my arm tucked under her head. She shifted until our bodies couldn’t get any closer, her curves pressing against me. Need stole the breath from my lungs and the rational thoughts straight out of my head.
As I leaned down to kiss her, she started talking again. “Peter?”
“Hm?”
“Remember after Hollie’s wedding? We went to the hospital then came back and—”
“Yes, I remember.” If her lips weren’t going to stop moving, I’d kiss somewhere else. I dropped my head, trailing my mouth from her chin to her jaw to under her ear and down the column of her neck.
“Well—” Her breaths came shallow, unsteady as my kisses neared the scooped neckline of her tank top. “It wasn’t quite dawn but—but it was close. We decided not to stay up for it—because we were so tired.”
“Mhm.” One of my hands snaked under the fabric.
“We should’ve stayed up, Peter. I—I didn’t realize it would be the last chance we’d ever have to watch a sunrise together.”
For some reason, Sarah needed to discuss this, so I pulled my hand away and shifted over her, bracing myself on the pillow behind her head.
She was right—I hadn’t even considered that the first time in my life I was up early enough to watch the sunrise every single day was here at Meadowbrook. And I couldn’t see it. Some sick irony.
“Tell me something, Sarah. Why are you so obsessed with the sun?”
She giggled a little. “I don’t know. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve loved it.
My house was always dark because the curtains were drawn and the people inside didn’t like venturing out.
Everyone around me despised my excitement for life and made me feel stupid for all my wild ideas.
And that huge sun just felt like a promise to me.
A promise of something better out there—just beyond my reach. ”
“The very first time we talked—on the playground—you told me your mom was afraid of it.”
“Did I really?”
“Yep. And you had your arms turned up like you were trying to get a burn.” I sat back, demonstrating her forearms-toward-the-sky pose, which made Sarah fall into giggles again.
“I was so defiant.”
“Yes, you were. You still are.”
Her hands finally slipped onto my chest then weaved through the back of my hair. “You have no idea what happened to my heart when the little boy on the playground spent his entire recess trying to help me catch it.”
“What happened?”
“I fell in love.”
I rolled my eyes. “We were what? Seven?”
“It doesn’t matter. I fell in love with you, Peter.” Her throat grew tight. “It was everything to me.”
I touched her face, my fingers running over the slope of her cheek.
“Your passion is the most beautiful thing about you.” I dragged my hand down to her heart.
“Everyone around you can feel it, and when the light in you flickers out…everyone feels that, too.” I shook my head, regret welling up in me again.
I put her through an era of darkness—the one thing I never wanted for her.
“I feel like you should’ve given up on me a long time ago.” My throat tightened suddenly, too. “After all the fear, all the times I could’ve acted and I didn’t, all the times I let—”
She put her finger over my lips. “Shhh. Don’t spiral.”
I stopped.
“The sun isn’t always in the sky, Peter.
” She choked up as her shoulders lifted in a shrug.
“If we don’t sit with each other until morning, who will?
It’s our job to hold each other through the hard seasons of life.
We need each other. For a time, I forgot that.
But I won’t again. I’m here and I always will be. ”
I puffed a breath of disbelief. She would keep being so much more than I deserved, wouldn’t she? She’d keep upping the ante, forcing me to run faster and be better until my very dying breath. Not keeping records, just loving as steadfastly as the sun rose and fell.
Silently, I made a promise to myself.
No more fear.
“I spent too long not showing up because of fear. And even though I might always struggle with fear, I promise I will show up for you. With all of my flaws, I’m here.
And I’m not going anywhere either.” I slipped my hand around her jaw and the back of her neck, directing her face toward mine with a gentle squeeze.
“I love you, Sarah. I love you so much.”
“And I love you, Peter.”
I eased down and swept my lips over hers, our kiss gentle and packed with promises.
Just as I began to urge her mouth to open, she pulled back once more. “You know…”
I stifled a groan of frustration, resorting to kissing her neck again, unable to stop myself as torrents of desire pulsed through my body. I was beyond ready to communicate without words.
“It’s sunrise right now.” She motioned to the right window. “There’s little holes in the blinds, and it’s making dots of light on your face.”
Alright, I had to put a stop to this. Drawing a sharp breath, I pulled us eye-to-eye. “Sarah?”
She froze, listening.
“Stop talking.”
A cackling laugh bubbled from her chest as her arms and legs laced around my body, finally yanking my weight against her. A throaty sound emanated from my chest as she arched, pulling me in and meeting my eager lips with her own.
Sarah hummed, opening for me so I could kiss her the way she liked—deeply, fully.
I tilted my head, leaning in and pressing down—closer, heavier.
My hands skimmed over her body, then my own—removing the last bits of fabric between us.
And we fell together just as we had a thousand times before.
As if we’d never been apart. As if we’d always moved in unison.
And while the sun, apparently, seeped through the blinds, I loved her in the dark.
With everything I had.
And everything I didn’t.
Sometime later, we lay there, sweaty and sated, holding each other. The covers had been kicked to the floor, and the room was quiet, still. Sarah’s bare body had fully surrendered to me, and the aftermath of our long-awaited unity was indescribable peace.
I put Sarah’s ring where it belonged on her finger, whispering a spontaneous version of our vows to her as I pushed it over her knuckle and kissed her hand. Then I gently tickled a trail up and down her arm and whispered all the plans I’d made for us.