Summer Sunsets

  “Oh, this should be fun.”

  I step behind her so there’s no room between us and lean over her shoulder to wrap my arms around her. “Set your hands atop mine so you can feel what I’m doing.”

  As I start to east the pole back, I feel her strain, almost as though my arms are much too close, but she doesn’t complain or let go. I feel the lightest pressure of her fingers atop mine. It’s like, for that moment, our bodies are one, and even when I snap my wrist and release the button, she’s there with me, just like Skye has always been. We both watch the line fly out over the water before the weight sinks it.

  A moment after I’ve cast out, I’m still standing there, my head just over her shoulder, and even if neither of us looks at the other, we sense the proximity of our bodies, the only motion is the light lifting and falling of our chests as we breathe.

  It’s a perfect moment, and I’m afraid to move, afraid to speak. I don’t want to separate from her, and in this nearness, I sense she wants to be close to me, too. I think about kissing her again when the line snaps, tugging the bobber under.

  “Did you see that?” Skye asks, breathless as her hands fall away.

  “Yeah.” I reel in slightly. The bobber bounces a few more times and then settles. Either the fish has lost interest or there’s no bait left. Either way, I’ve been brought back to fishing, so I grab my pole and sit in the chair next to Skye’s.

  We fish for an hour or so before I start setting up the tent as dusk fills the sky and sunset sets the lake aflame. Skye watches me for a moment before setting her pole aside. “I didn’t think you were serious about camping. You could have told me.”

  “You didn’t ask.” I’ve about got the tent halfway up, and I see her step toward the lake, indecision written all over her face as she wipes a light sheen of sweat from her forehead. A few moments ago, she felt free as a bird, but suddenly not so much. I have to get this tent assembled before it gets dark, so I keep working.

  Finally, when that’s done, I pull out the cooler with sandwich stuff and call her over so we can share some food. She really picks at her lunchmeat, and I can tell something is really bothering her.

  “Okay, out with it,” I say.

  “Out with what?” She takes a bite and looks at the ground.

  “Something is bothering you, and I want to talk about it because I won’t have a clue how to help otherwise.” I reach over to touch her hand, and she stiffens.

  “There’s nothing going on. Really.”

  “Bullshit. You’re freaking out, and I want to know why. Is it the tent?”

  She kind of looks over at it, and a flush creeps into her face. That’s what tells me I guessed right even when she won’t say a word. Finally, I nod. “Okay, so what’s wrong with the tent? I mean, we’ve stayed in the same beach house before.”

  “It’s not the same, Devin.” She starts to get up when I gently grasp her arm.

  “Tell me what’s different.” My voice is quiet, and I’m kind of nervous, like I’ve done something to upset her when I never meant to.

  She takes a nervous breath and stares at the ground. “It’s like we’re so close together. It’s such a small space, and there’s nowhere to go.”

  Immediately I see where this is going. “It’s not like that between us, Skye. There’s never going to be anything that happens that you don’t want to happen. I won’t ever hurt you, and you know it, but if you really feel that uncomfortable, we don’t even have to stay in the tent. I can drive you back. I was just trying to surprise you.”

  Her shoulders sink even further, and I feel I’ve said the wrong thing yet again. “No, I want to stay. I’m just afraid.”

  I stand and slide my finger under her chin, forcing her to look me in the eye. “Afraid of what?”

  “Devin, God knows why you don’t give up on me.” She pulls away and tries to walk off, a flush coloring her cheeks, and I feel her close to an emotional edge, but my feet don’t seem to dig into the earth. Even though she half-heartedly tries to pull away, I catch her wrist and then I twine my fingers with hers.

  “I’m never going to give up on you, Skye. Never. You might as well understand that.”

  “Why?” Tears pool in her eyes. “Why does it matter?”

  I pull her toward me and kiss her forehead. “Because you matter.”

  She finally nods, but I can tell she’s thinking of something else, something she’s not quite ready to share. “Perhaps we should unroll the sleeping bags.”

  “I’ll get right on it.” I go to the back of the Jeep and grab them, and once inside the tent, unroll them. I look toward the doorway and see Skye standing there, staring in, her expression nervous until she finally crosses the threshold and sits.

  For a moment, we sit and watch the last of daylight leaving through the unzipped sections of the tent. Her eyes are wide and luminous in the starlight, and I can tell she’s nervous the way her fingers act like butterfly wings, unable to still themselves for any length of time.

  She closes her eyes, and I want to tell her that no matter what she’s thinking everything will be all right, but I don’t think she’ll believe me, so I hold her hand and let the night fill the void around us.

  “Devin, what if I can’t ever have a relationship? I know you care about me, but even you have to get tired. What if I never get over this bottomless fear?”

  I scoot closer. “I’ll wait for you, Skye.”

  She looks at me. “I didn’t date in college. How lame is that?”

  Reaching out, I stroke her face. “It’s not. You weren’t ready.”

  Leaning close, she sets her head on my shoulder. “Do you think what I feel is normal?”

  “Of course.” I lie down and motion for her to join me and for the next hour, we just watch the sky, witnessing a shooting star and listening to cricket song before drifting to sleep.

  Somewhere in the middle of the night, I hear rain pattering atop the tent, and I get up to zip the windows. I move slowly so as not to jostle and wake Skye, and I lie back down facing her. Lifting my hand, I stroke her face as the rain picks up. I lean close and kiss her forehead.

  Her eyes open, and her breath catches. For a few seconds I freeze, wondering if I’ve overstepped my bounds. Her eyes widen, and she eases toward me until her lips touch mine. I’m not expecting it, so everything inside freezes, and I force myself to follow her lead.

  The kiss is slow and tentative, as though she isn’t sure of what she’s doing, and that’s the last thing I want. I reach out and touch her cheek. That seems to draw her closer, and add to the intensity of her mouth on mine. My heart thunders in my chest, and it seems so loud I wonder if she can hear it. My hands tremble from being so close. She is everything I want. She’s always been everything.

  Her hands reach out and draw me closer to her so I feel a sudden urgency in her. Part of me wants to pull back and make sure Skye is okay with this, but if I do, that will only make her think, make her doubt what she’s doing—make her doubt her feelings for me.

  The rain beats down harder. The droplets are driving with the same intensity of our kisses. I touch my lips to her cheek and neck, and that’s when I hear her breathy request. “Make love to me, Devin.”

  It’s then I do draw back because I have to know Skye is really okay with this. I don’t want to be some crazy thing she did because she needed to prove to herself she could. That’s not me at all. “Skye, are you sure about this—I mean really, really sure?”

  She takes a deep breath and nods. “Yes. I want you to make love to me.”

  This should be the one thing I’ve waited for, but I have doubts, and it’s only when her hands begin exploring my body that I push my trepidations aside and give in to a need that’s been building for as long as I’ve known Skye, and yet even as I touch her, gently peeling away her clothes as the rain spatters the tent, I take things slowly, always giving her time to stop me until there is no time left and nothing to stop—nothing that can be stopped. Our bodies f
inally join the way our souls did long ago, and when we’ve spent ourselves, I gather her against my chest and listen to the rain.

  Lying there, Skye is quiet, and that troubles me because even as much as I know Skye, I can’t always read her. I kiss her forehead. “You all right?”

  She smiles, but it doesn’t quite touch her eyes. “Yeah.”

  I want to ask her more, but I don’t know what to ask. I feel tremors in her world, but I don’t know where the fault line is. So I do the only thing I know to do. I whisper, “I love you, Skye. I’ve always loved you.” Then I wrap my arms around her and wait for her to drift to sleep before I finally close my eyes.

  The next morning, I find Skye already up. She’s facing the lake, her arms folded across her chest, and the gentle wind stirring at the water drowns out the sound of my approach. I smile, leaning toward her, and kiss her neck.

  “Hey, you,” I whisper.

  She kind of jumps, and her arms fall to her sides. I reach out and lightly brush my hands up and down them, trying to relax her.

  “Hey.” Her voice sounds small and lost. Not a good sign.

  “Did you sleep okay?” I ask, not liking the way the silence feels. It makes me worry that somehow she might have taken last night the wrong way.

  “Yeah,” she manages, slowly turning. Her gaze is averted, and I can tell she’s stressed. “Last night was—”

  “Perfect,” I finish for her. I don’t have a clue what she’s thinking. All I know is there’s this ring in my pocket, and if I’d believed it would help her understand that what happened last night is the least of the reasons I love her, I’d pull it out and propose right now. She’d chalk it up to feeling guilty over making love. But she’d be wrong—oh, so wrong.

  Instead, I gently pull her into my embrace and kiss her forehead. She looks up at me with her dark eyes misted with tears, and it hurts to see her like that. “Devin—”

  “Shh,” I say, touching my fingertip to her lips. “I know you, Skye. You’ve got a million reasons why last night was a bad thing, and I’ve only got one why it was right—but my one reason trumps all of yours. I love you. What we have isn’t based on last night, and whatever crazy thoughts you’ve got running through your head, I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t look at you any differently now except that I love you more. So whatever it is you think you need to tell me, don’t. Just let me hold you.”

  Instead of arguing, she ducks her head beneath my chin and rests there. That’s when I know she’s finally listening to my heart.

  Chapter Ten

  On our way home, Skye suggests we rent a movie for tonight, and that’s fine by me—any chance I get to spend with Skye is great. I’m pretty jazzed because I wasn’t sure how she would deal with what happened between us, even though she said it was what she wanted. There’re times Skye is still so skittish I’m not sure she knows what she wants.

  I pull up to the video store, and we both jump out. She looks over at me and flashes a smile. “What’s the matter, Devin? Got to make sure I don’t find a romantic comedy or something?”

  Sliding my arm around her, I flash a grin. “Nope, we can watch your romantic comedy. I’m just here to rent an action movie to balance it out. You know—a little blood and guts with my romance.”

  “Figures.” She starts to open the door, but I beat her to it, and she giggles and steps inside. Watching her face, I’m amazed at the transformation, and I hope it lasts. I don’t think I’ve seen Skye this carefree since we were kids. Her humor is infectious, and I find myself grinning like a moron, but at least I’m a happy moron as I reach out and grab her hand.

  I’m right about Skye’s choice. She gravitates toward the romantic comedies, which is pretty much commentary on what Skye believes—she wants to think that a permanent and perfect kind of love exists, but part of her is confused by it. It’s a nice “diversion” from her doubts, and she ends up watching a lot of chick flicks. Me, I watch them with her, hoping that something from them sticks and she finally accepts that I can love her unconditionally.

  “What about this one?” She holds up Ever After and looks at me to see what I think.

  “You’re in a mood for Cinderella, eh?” I ask, taking a glance at her offering and then looking over her which isn’t hard. I’m much taller, something I often give her grief about because it’s too much fun to pass up, if you want the truth.

  “I’ve thought about renting it before. It was just an idea.” She sets it back on the shelf and starts to move on when I pick it back up.

  “So rent it. I don’t mind.” I take her hand and push the box into it.

  “Yeah, you don’t mind so long as you get your blood and guts, right?” She pushes some hair from her face.

  “Exactly.”

  One moment, Skye is looking at me, and the next her has drifted to the side and beyond. The smile she’s been wearing vanishes, and her eyes widen like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. Her fingers release the box, and it falls.

  “Boy, are you clumsy,” I say, not sure what else to say as I feel things rapidly spiraling south. I start to hand her the box, but she backs into the shelf and knocks over a couple more boxes, still staring the same thing. I’m too busy picking up the boxes to have a clue what she’s staring at or why she’s so intent.

  “Clumsy, like I said.” I manage to get the boxes back on the shelf before I turn. For a moment, all I see are a handful of people roaming the store, and even though it’s true Skye isn’t much of a “people” person, five or so strangers wouldn’t cause her to act like this. There has to be something more, and that’s what makes me nervous.

  I look harder at the people, trying to recognize them. I figure that’s what’s spooked her—and I’m right. One of the guys is a little taller than I remember and wider, with more muscles than before, which was creepy because Tyler Rutherford had plenty of muscles in high school.

  I look back at Skye, and my whole body tenses. While she seems to be drifting into the fight-or-flight mode, I’m the opposite. I don’t care how ripped Tyler looks because no matter where else he’s filled out, his head is empty. Always has been, always will be.

  “What do you say we get some lunch and rent these later?” I don’t wait for her to answer but take the box from Skye and set it back on the shelf. She’s standing there, her chin tilted downward, her eyes closed. Her face is pale, and all I want to do is get her out of here before that asshole sees her.

  She doesn’t say anything as I slip my arm around her and lead her to the door. As I open it, the bell overhead jangles, and everybody turns to look at us, but luckily Tyler doesn’t give us more than a passing glance.

  I lead Skye back to my Jeep and open her door for her so she can slip inside. She’s staring somewhere beyond me, and I’m pretty sure if I knew where her thoughts were, I’d hate them. It’s amazing how it takes so little to remind her of the past, and here I am, working so hard to establish a future between us—a future that makes her feel as safe and loved as she should.

  I slip my keys into the ignition and start to pull out of the lot, already thinking over my options for where to eat.

  “Could you take me home, please?”

  I look over at Skye, but she’s staring out the window like she’s afraid to face me. Damn Tyler Rutherford—damn him to hell.

  “How about some breakfast first?” I ask, trying to buy some time to talk to Skye. I definitely don’t want to give her time to think too hard about what just happened because I know it’ll lead her to jumping to conclusions I really don’t want her to jump to. It’s weird how Skye doesn’t have much faith in a lot of things, but if she thinks she’s gotten a sign about something, she’ll jump on that in a heartbeat, especially if it’s a negative sign. Like Tyler.

  “I’d rather just go home.”

  Knowing it’s probably going to cause a fight between us, I tap my signal and turn the way opposite of Skye’s house. I can’t just drop her off like this. I won’t.

  “Y
ou’re going the wrong way,” she half-whispers and leans back in the seat.

  I don’t say anything. Right now, I’m trying to figure out what to say that’ll make this whole nightmare better, but I keep coming up empty. I’m pretty sure she’s going to have a bird and we’re going to have a fight if I keep driving, so I find a parking lot and pull into it so I can give her my full attention.

  “Skye, listen to me. I know you saw Tyler, and he probably creeped the hell out of you, but it doesn’t matter. He’s part of the past and doesn’t deserve a second thought.”

  Her eyes are closed, and I’d swear she was sleeping if I hadn’t seen her swallow hard. “Devin, I just really want to go home. I’m tired.”

  One step forward, two steps back.

  “You’re not listening, Skye,” I tell her, desperate to get her to hear something besides what she’s telling herself because I know how powerful that voice can be. It was the same one which almost made her kill herself.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  That’s when I lose it. I whirl toward her and grip her shoulder. “Damn it, Skye, it does matter. Everything matters. But here’s the kicker. I could tell you I love you every day, but it wouldn’t matter nearly so much as seeing Tyler. He’s a waste of flesh, Skye—a waste—and yet because of what he did to you, you let him keep hurting you.”

  She flinches at my grip, and I must be holding her harder than I thought, so I ease my fingers back and slowly move away. “It doesn’t matter. I just want to go home.”

  Sensing I’ve lost, at least for the moment, I tool through the parking lot to turn around before heading to her house. “So I guess that’s it then. We don’t matter, either, do we, Skye—or was there even a ‘we’ to begin with?”

  She doesn’t answer. Instead, she keeps staring beyond me to a place I can’t reach her. I could keep throwing out arguments all day, but that doesn’t mean Skye would respond to any of them, and the last thing I want to do is make her back off even quicker because I couldn’t keep my temper. So the only option I have left is to pull up in front of her house, watch her get out, and drive away.