15. Colt #2
The light from the fire catches his profile, making his jaw seem softer. He’s the most beautiful thing in the entire mountain range, and with aching certainty, I know this is the best risk I’ve ever taken and the worst hurt I’ll ever endure.
“Always,” I answer, and Ethan brings his lips to mine in a tender kiss. My hand grips his neck as I hold him close, not wanting to stop kissing him. It doesn’t take long for our hands to wander, and for me to wish we were anywhere but here.
Resting my forehead against his, I pause for a breath. Ethan brings out everything in me I’ve stuffed down for so long; it’s sometimes overwhelming.
“I need to put out the fire, and then we need to get some rest,” I murmur against his lips before stealing more kisses.
“Darn.” He laughs softly. “I can wait.”
With the fire down to mostly coals, I scoop some soil onto the embers and pour from the jug of water on top. When I’m satisfied the fire is out, I hold out my hand for Ethan. He glues himself to my side as I shine the flashlight ahead of us toward our tent.
“Wait!” he whispers, and I freeze.
“What?”
“I have to pee.”
“Just go over there. I’ll point the light.”
“Colt,” he whines. “It’s still dark, and I don’t want to be by myself.”
“You asking me to hold it for you, too?” He actually stops to think about it. “Never mind. Come on.” Leading him away from the site, I lean against a tree and motion to the other side of it. “Just go. I’m right here.”
Ethan does his business on the other side of the tree while I wonder why I’m less embarrassed over having his dick down my throat than I am being his pee buddy in the forest.
“Okay. We can go now.”
After holding the tent open for him and watching him stumble around to get into the sleeping bag and get comfortable, it’s glaringly obvious that Ethan isn’t an outdoor camping kind of guy.
But when he burrows next to me in the sleeping bag and fits just right against my side, I’m okay with that.
There’re a lot of things I’m okay with if it’s with Ethan.
Maybe some I haven’t even tried yet.
“For someone who didn’t think they could sleep in a tent, you’ve managed pretty well.”
Ethan fell asleep, his head on my chest, and coiled so tight around me it was a struggle to breathe at one point.
“Iz mornin’?” he mumbles, but doesn’t move off me.
“It is. Come watch the sunrise,” I whisper.
Other campers have exited their tents, and I know Gunner already got the fire going for breakfast. The coffee is likely almost ready by now, too.
“You didn’t tell me it would be a sunrise thing,” he mumbles without opening his eyes.
“There’s coffee on.”
Ethan lifts his head a little. “Black?”
“We brought powdered cream and sugar.”
He pushes himself up and stares down at me with sleepy eyes and bed-mussed hair.
I can’t help brushing my knuckles over his cheek and sear this all into my memory.
This man came on a trip, even though he was scared, because he wanted to see stars and trusted me with his safety.
I’m incredibly fortunate and unbearably attached.
“What?”
Ethan might be sleepy, but he’s clearly picked up on my…whatever this moment is.
“Nothing.” I pat his back. “Let’s get pants on and get out there. Don’t forget your camera.”
After some rustling around, we both have pants on and make our way out to the fire.
“Good morning,” Gunner greets us and nods to the coffee supplies sitting on the nearby stump. “Just in time. Grab a mug and get comfy.”
Ethan moves toward it, but I grab his arm. “Go get your camera set up, and I’ll bring you a mug. The best spot is over there.” I point to the opening in the trees where a few others have brought over blankets and are cozy with their coffee.
“Oh, thanks, babe.”
His eyes widen, and my heart leaps against my ribs. Both of us remain frozen, shocked at the endearment, and it’s me who finally gets us moving.
“You’re welcome.”
With a nod, he walks to the clearing, and I close my eyes to settle everything that one word just disturbed.
When I turn back toward the fire, mugs in hand prefilled with the powdered additives, Gunner removes the pot from the fire and fills the mugs.
“You’re in love with him,” he says quietly. My gaze meets his before searching out the back of Ethan.
“Probably. I haven’t given myself time to really figure it out, but…I know it already hurts thinking about him not being here in a few months.”
“What are you going to do?”
Holding the mugs in my hands, I look toward Ethan, setting up his tripod and chatting with the nearby campers.
“Right now, I’m going to watch the sunrise with him and enjoy cowboy coffee. After that?” I sigh. “I don’t know.”
“Then get over there. You don’t need the answers today. You’ve still got time.”
Time. It both stands still and races by every time I’m with him. The nights seem too short and the days feel suspended.
With a nod, I walk toward Ethan and think about that single word. Sometimes, time feels infinite until you face something that can change your life forever.
Then it runs too quickly. Passing through our fingers with no pause to weigh options.
Ethan’s smile greets me as he notices me approach and reaches toward the mug offered.
“Thank you. You’re right, this place is perfect. When the sun hits the water, it’ll be spectacular.” He sips his coffee and groans. “Oh my god, this is perfection. Why does this taste so good? It’s better than the Laughing Fork.”
I can’t help the laugh that slips out. “Don’t say that back in town.” Sipping from my mug, I stand next to him near his tripod setup. “It’s percolated over a fire, and it’s cowboy coffee. The eggshells take out the acidity. Makes it smoother.”
Ethan smirks into his mug. “A smooth cowboy. Go figure.”
“Give me your mug. Look.”
Ethan turns as he offers his mug to me and watches the sun break through the trees and catch the water below. The sky takes on a pinky-purple hue that’s always my favorite. He snaps photos for a few seconds, then abruptly turns to me.
“I don’t want to watch this through a lens. I want to watch it with you.”
Ethan gently takes the mug from my hand, and we stand together with the other campers in the clearing, our arms around each other’s waists as we sip coffee and watch nature paint in real time.
It should fill me with joy, but I’ve never felt so sad.