And as for Evan—well, during one of our many late night talks, I reminded him that he’d told me he advised Lexi to go to counseling for her issues, and I thought maybe the same wouldn’t be such a bad idea for him and his dad. He laughed that suggestion away, but two weeks later, he called and said that Mr. Mattson was sober now—apparently at Adele’s insistence—and they’d gone into some kind of family therapy once a week. He said it was going okay, even if it meant driving all the way to Charlotte. He’d also been keeping up with his tutoring sessions and felt like he’d caught up with where he should be academically.
As for pinpointing a career focus, he’s not quite gotten there yet. He’s mentioned teaching in special education or perhaps diverting into the culinary field. But for now, he’s just enjoying college and the newfound confidence he tells me he has in knowing he can truly succeed.
I’ve kept in touch with Natalie and Amelia and even Cara. I started posting on Instagram again and interacting with Mike and some of the people I went to school with. I’d never needed a ton of people in my life, but somehow it made me feel more open, more involved.
Things all seemed to be falling into place, but I was still unsure of where I’d be going to school in the fall. Evan and I had agreed to put our vacation on hold, even though we desperately wanted to see one another, instead agreeing that we would spend the entire summer together. In the meantime I’d been trying to reestablish my scholarships and even the dreaded student loans so that my options would be wide open. If I couldn’t afford Well’s Creek, then maybe there was another college close enough so that Evan and I wouldn’t be on opposite ends of the country.
Evan had tried to get geographically closer to me too, having applied to several colleges, including WSU, but his GPA—brought down by his poor showing during summer quarter—still didn’t merit a transfer, and I’m not so sure going to the same school as Garrett would have been good for any of us. He did of course remind me of the money his dad put aside for me in Well’s Creek. Yet, the idea of taking it still didn’t feel right.
As summer began to approach, Claire and Kate were close to wrapping up another school year and growing like weeds. Grandma had started coming out of her room more with a very elderly Lucille following her down the stairs. Mom was dating a pharmacist from the urgent care clinic named Clark, a nice enough guy who I hoped Mom could find some happiness with.
And, as for me, whenever I’m stressing out about the school thing, I slip on one of the pairs of shoes Evan sent me for my birthday and go for a run. He’d also sent me a locket containing a photo of he and I opposite my parent’s wedding picture that he’d gotten from my mom. I love wearing it, opening it and just looking at it. And when I do, the one thing I know without any shadow of doubt is that I’m still desperately in love with Evan Mattson and that we will be together.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
PAIGE
An Early Summer Epilogue
Before going through the security checkpoint at the airport, Mom says I shouldn’t just show up in Well’s Creek without telling Evan. I would generally be prone to agree with that, but my outlook on life has been changing.
“Life is full of surprises,” I tell her. “Some of them should be good ones, don’t you think?”
“I’ll have to use that on my classes in the fall,” Mom says before hugging the breath out of me and making me promise that I’ll be back for Thanksgiving at the very latest.
“I promise,” I say, “and maybe even a couple of times before that.”
“Your father would be so proud of the woman you’ve become,” Mom says, her eyes welling with tears.
“I hope so.” I tear up just as easily and think about Dad, grateful for his DNA that helped to form me, thankful for the time I had with him and his continued presence that endures deep inside of my heart.
My flight to North Carolina has three layovers, and after landing in Charlotte, I spring for a hotel room near the airport since it’s now very late at night, and I want to be clean, fresh and wide awake when I see Evan.
The next morning, I take a cab to the bus depot and board the first and only bus of the day to Well’s Creek. Natalie picks me up and drives me to the studio apartment I’ve managed to secure for myself. It’s a month-to-month lease, a place just to get my bearings, a place I can stay if Evan isn’t quite ready for me to move back in.
“We’ll be neighbors you know,” she says once we’ve entered the very small, very old, but very clean apartment.
“I know,” I say. “That’s part of why I picked it.”
There isn’t a stick of furniture in it, but by the time I’ve dropped my luggage on the floor and we’ve rounded the entire four hundred or so square feet, Natalie is already promising me a summer of yard sales. But furnishing the apartment might not be necessary.
“Can I drive you to his place?” Natalie asks, probably sensing I’m ready to see him.
“I think I’ll walk,” I say.
Evan has given up the two-bedroom apartment we shared and moved into a small cottage behind the much larger house of a college professor. He’d sent me several dozen pictures as part of his “plan” to lure me back to Well’s Creek. But I didn’t need to be lured. It became quite apparent that there wasn’t any other choice for me. Not only did I love the school, but I also loved the boy who lived right by it. I’d secured a number of scholarships—thankfully none fell through—some grants, and a sizable “discount” on my tuition the school agreed to after I’d spoken with Mr. Mattson and had my “scholarship” transferred to another deserving student. Somehow, it all worked out, and I’d gotten my job at Appalachian Roasters back too.
“Call me later then,” Natalie says before taking off.
I take another quick shower and change into a short, cotton dress that helps stave off the muggy air and then throw on a pair of running shoes. I wear my hair up in a high ponytail and keep my makeup light, classy and feminine.
I’ve looked the house up on Google maps a half dozen times, so I know the way by heart even though I’ve never been there. Chances are that Evan isn’t even home. He might be off with Jason or Marvin, playing Frisbee or in the soccer league he joined last fall. But he’s mentioned that he stays in a bit more often now because the little cottage actually feels like a home. He reminds me every chance he gets it won’t actually be that until I’m in it with him.
The professor’s house is quite large. It’s gray with white shutters and has an expansive green lawn, even in the heat of summer. There are two gates, one for the front door, while the other, it seems, leads down a path and to the back. I swing it open, and it creaks, one of the only sounds in this quiet old neighborhood other than the far off shouts of children playing, a dog barking, and the hum of cars blocks away.
I’m of course nervous. My heart is beating like the wings of a bird flying against the wind. And when I see the open door of the small cottage in back, a near replica of the larger house, my excitement increases ten fold.
As I approach, I hear the sounds of a soccer match coming from inside. When I reach the threshold, I rap lightly on the heavy wood and call out, “Hello?” I’m still not in the habit of walking straight into someone’s house, even if it’s the person I’m head over heels in love with that lives there.
There is a rustling sound and heavy, quick steps coming closer, and then Evan appears. He’s shirtless and slightly more tan, but what I notice most of course are his gorgeous green eyes that brighten when he sees me. Without a word, he runs up to me and pulls me toward him, lifting me off the ground and kicking the door shut behind us.
“Paige!” he says, nearly breathless, hoisting me up higher, his strong arms cradling my thighs so that my legs are wrapped around his hips, my shoes having already slipped off my feet, while he walks me through the cottage.
“Evan!” I respond. “Are you surprised?”
“You don’t even know.” He takes me to his bedroom and gently lays me down on his queen size bed. A p
air of French doors are open, but a thick grove of trees makes the room very private. “Am I going too fast?” he asks, already out of his pajama bottoms.
“Nope,” I say, sitting up just enough to loosen the hem of my dress and pull it over my head before quickly easing myself of my bra and panties.
“I missed you so much,” he says, slipping out of his boxer briefs, the hard thickness between his legs evidence of that.
My heart is still bouncing around as he gets on the bed and hovers above me, kissing me so gently that it’s almost as though he’s having to hold back in order to do it.
I reach for his shoulders and feel a wave of pleasure simply at touching him—it’s been far too long, long enough that later I might question how I made it the nearly six months without him, how I made it the years before that, and how I’m now sure I never want to be separated from him again.
He can’t seem to help but to smile as I lift my knees and spread myself for him. I draw my fingers down his back as he lowers himself and whispers, “I love you.” I tell him I love him back, but it somehow doesn’t seem enough as he guides himself into me. I hold tight to his neck as I take him in, my body immediately acclimating to his, allowing me to feel nothing except the deeply intense pleasure he brings to me.
His lips don’t leave my flesh as he continues his gentle thrusts into me, and I can’t seem to keep away from his either. I tug at his ear and lick the salty, warm sides of his neck, running my fingers through his hair before sending my hands back down over the length of his back, nearly reaching the curve of his ass as he continues plunging into me.
There isn’t quite anything to compare this particular moment to because I feel so completely free with Evan now and confident in our future together, which causes a string of orgasms that send me floating into the clouds. And after a glorious hour of remaining rooted in me, Evan finally decides to let himself go, and I hold him tightly as he does, allowing him to push what may one day bring us children up and into my depths.
Even after he’s done, he lingers above me, kissing my lips, my neck, my cheeks and every available inch of my skin while keeping his green eyes locked on me. I’m ticklish of course, at his mercy, but thankfully he takes it easy on me and eventually lies down on his back, wrapping me up with his strong arm while I settle my palms on his strong chest and link my legs with his.
“This means you’re staying for good, right?” he asks, his voice still slightly unsure.
“Yes, Evan. I love you, and we’re not going to be apart… not anymore.” He doesn’t know about the studio apartment, and now I’m wondering if I’ll ever spend a single night in it.
He gets the biggest smile on his face I’ve ever seen while at the same time appearing to exhale a giant breath. “Now I can finally be happy… really, truly happy,” he says.
“Me too,” I say, and I feel it all the way into my bones.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to everyone who ever believed in my writing abilities and fostered my storytelling, especially to my Mother who I miss dearly and my Father who loves to discuss the finer points of character relationships on his favorite TV shows.
Thank you to my beta readers for Between the Boys: Miranda, Ashley, Kate and Melissa. Your feedback was invaluable!
Thank you to my writing group in Portland, Oregon, that I’d been geographically challenged in attending for the past few years but who put up with my many chapters of unfinished stories over the years.
A special thanks to my husband, Eric, for believing in my writing enough to let me do it full time, and of course his amazing work on the cover for Between the Boys.
About the Author
Stephanie Vercier is the author of Between the Boys, the first book in the The Basin Lake Series. She lives with her husband in Tacoma, Washington, and has been a fan of romantic pairings since she was a child watching soap operas with her mother. Stories have been floating around in her head ever since.
Between the Boys is her first book.
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/stephanievercier/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/StephVercier
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Between the Boys (The Basin Lake Series Book 1) Page 36
