1. Allie #3
I spot my friends in the grass near the cliff’s edge between the house and the garage, so I take Dec’s hand and eagerly skip down the steps in their direction.
Willow is wearing a twin outfit to my own—our Lana Del Rey-inspired Independence Day shirts that read, “Baby, I’m your national anthem,” with denim cut-offs.
She’s wearing hand-painted Chucks while I threw on sandals.
Willow’s long, blond locks are split into pigtail braids, while my mane is tossed into a bun.
Weston stands with his hand in hers, his steel-blue eyes darting in her direction every few seconds, like he’s afraid if he looks away, he’ll lose sight of her entirely.
Zander, Lou, and her wife, Livia, form a crowd around them.
The wives are wearing sundresses—Lou’s blue and Liv’s red.
Each of their pretty faces display a frown as they study Declan at my side.
Zander’s expression follows suit, and he crosses his arms over his puffed-out chest.
“What’s up?” I ask before facing Weston, Carter and Penelope’s foster son I’ve known for years, though never had much of a relationship with.
He’s always kept inside a shell, limiting himself to one-word answers and social avoidance.
That is, until he met Willow a few weeks ago.
Now, he’s all blushing cheeks and bashful smiles.
“Oh, and Weston, this is Declan. My boyfriend.”
They shake hands as everyone else continues to openly scowl at my boyfriend. Willow tosses Weston a rejective glance before her eyes find mine again. “We have a surprise birthday gift for you.”
“I thought your birthday was on Monday?” Declan asks, frowning.
“Well, we love Allie a whole lot, so we don’t confine celebrating to one day,” Zander mutters.
“I wasn’t suggesting—” Declan begins, but Willow cuts him off, pulling a scarf from her back pocket and taking a step in my direction.
“I’m going to blindfold you, okay? Then Lou is going to get your gift.”
Before I’m able to protest, she’s grasping my shoulder and spinning me around, forcing me to unlock hands with Declan. A soft mutter leaves his lips, and it’s all I need to know that he’s not loving this situation.
Footsteps crunch through the rocks that line the property, heading toward the garage before the roaring music lowers to a dull thrum and the buzz of conversation fades into murmurs.
“I am like…not really into a blindfold kink so this better be good,” I say to no one in particular. Declan’s puff of disapproval glides through my ears.
Willow laughs. “It’s worth it, I promise.”
The shuffle of her clothing tells me of her movements, and suddenly her warm hands cover mine. I know it’s Willow without needing sight. The paradise smell of her favorite body glitter, the warmth of her hands, and the rhythm of her breathing.
More footsteps sound off from behind me, and there is an absence of the place where Declan had been at my side. Willow’s hands slide up my arms and around my head, but just as the pressure of the scarf leaves my face, it’s replaced by something else.
Another touch I’d recognize blind and broken and turned inside out. Another scent and heat and breath that sink into the depths of my very bones.
“Happy birthday, Allie Cat.”
His voice mists across my flesh, drenching me like a desert monsoon, filling every one of the cracks I’ve formed in his absence. I’m only capable of mustering a gasp before I spin around, his hands falling away as my eyes flutter open.
Blazing sapphires anchor my gaze, and the world beyond them warps into nothing but a distant blur. Trailing his long, straight nose, my gaze drifts to his lips—their natural pout and perfect cupid’s bow. Lips that taught me everything I’ve ever known about love and touch and need.
His strong, square jaw flexes when those lips lift into the crooked smile that sets my blood aflame.
A faint shadow whispers over his soft, tanned skin.
More golden than when I last saw him at Christmas, the freckles that dust his cheeks only in the summer are just sprouting over the bridge of his nose.
Everything is frozen—my limbs, my mind, time itself.
I wasn’t expecting to see him, I wasn’t given time to anticipate his smile or his scent or the way I can feel his touch when he simply looks at me.
It’s as if I were a thousand miles from home, and in a blink I found myself standing at the front door.
My feet aren’t on solid ground, I can’t make sense of the reality of the moment or process the way my heart rages and my soul settles—like I’m taking my first deep breath in a while after preparing myself to live without oxygen for much longer than this.
“Hi,” he whispers, breaking me from my stalled state.
It all comes to me now—that warped world speeds into hyperdrive, and some noise leaves my mouth, but I’m unable to decipher what it is. I’m launching myself into his arms without warning, and knowing me better than I could know even myself, he anticipates it—catching me.
His arms lock around my waist as mine clasp behind his neck, sealing me to him.
I lock my legs at his hips as he spins us, and my face falls against his neck as I wrap myself in the soft, warm, achingly familiar embrace of his body.
Pressure builds behind my eyes, and I’m too weak to hold it back.
I wet his skin with tears as I whisper, “You’re here. You’re home.”