Derrick and I walk across the street to pull the last of the boats up for the season when we see Ryder down below, chaining them up to the trailer. His face is hard and serious, his biceps flexed as he hoists the weight of the boats up. We watch as he walks down the dock to lock up the shed.
“What is he doing here?” I ask. Derrick sighs as he looks down the hill at his friend.
“Last time, the effects didn’t kick in till a few days later,” Derrick says. “He’s probably just trying to get in as much as he can.”
I nod and swallow.
He doesn’t look sick. He looks...fucking beautiful. He’s big and strong and brooding, but at the same time, so full of light.
I think about what he said about Maura––that she was his sun. And I think that’s what I feel about him. He lights up every part of my life, including the ones that have been dark for more than a decade.
“Should we help him?” I ask. Derrick shakes his head.
“I think he needs this. He needs to know he’s still helping.”
I nod and follow Derrick back inside. He finishes putting away the last of the summer gear and tells me he’s heading out. I stay back to unpack some of the boxes in the storage room so that it’s easier to stock the winter racks tomorrow.
As I’m standing on my tiptoes to reach one of the big boxes from the back of the room, I hear the creak of the door behind me. Ryder steps in, and I freeze.
The look on his face is still so hard as he narrows his eyes on me. He’s carrying a box, and he lowers it down slowly to the ground, his eyes never falling from mine.
I want to ask him how he feels, what it was like, if he’s scared. I want to ask him what the doctors said today or if he needs anything.
But he stalks toward me with such presence, such determination, that I can’t find any words. Instead, he reaches for my hips and pulls me into him, letting his tongue find mine with such hunger that it makes me gasp. Our lips crash into each other, and his hands are searching my body underneath my shirt.
“Let’s go home,” he tells me, and I nod.
When we get back to his house, we take a long, hot shower together. He washes my hair and my back, and I return the favor. There’s something so sensual about being in here with him, the air around us thick and hot, our bodies wet and rubbing against each other. I look up at him as he rinses his hair. I want to ask him if he’s okay. Then, in a moment’s time, his lips crash into mine again, and I realize that with the insatiable mode in which he is kissing me, he’s answering my question. He’s not okay, and he needs me. Right now. Just like this. So, I give him whatever he needs. However he needs to stay afloat, that’s what I’ll be for him.
He pushes me back gently against the tile wall of the shower and lifts me up so that my legs can wrap around his waist. He thrusts his tongue into my mouth, hoisting me up with one arm. And within a mere moment, he’s inside of me, my back flat against the cold wall as he thrusts in and out, harder and harder.
If nothing else were happening, it would probably be hottest sex I’ve ever had.
Okay, to be fair, cancer and all, it’s still the hottest sex I’ve ever had.
But it’s so much more than that.
He’s holding me so tight to his body, and I’m clenching myself around him with every muscle in my body.
“Ryder,” I whisper, clawing at his back as he pushes up against me.
He moans, and I squeeze myself around him, making him drop his head back.
I kiss and lick and nip his neck, and it pushes him over the edge.
He hoists me up a little more with one arm, and the change of angle drives me wild. He smacks his other hand against the wall behind me with one more hard thrust.
“Fuck,” he groans, dropping his head to mine. I wrap my hands around his neck and pull him into me, letting him catch his breath. He kisses the top of my head and slowly slides out of me, lowering me to the ground.
After we catch our breath, we rinse back off, get dressed, and slip under the covers of his bed.
We still haven’t spoken, but he wraps his arms around me. I look at the clock. It’s only seven o’clock.
“I was going to take Annabelle out for a dinner date tonight,” he says. “Take advantage of feeling good while I still do. Will you join us?”
I smile and tilt my head.
“You two should go,” I say. “She deserves some time alone with you.”
He thinks for a moment then nods. He reaches down and pulls my hand to his lips.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks. I nod.
“I’ll be around,” I tell him with a smile. He kisses me once more then lies back down next to me.
“Just a few more minutes,” he whispers.
As I get in my car and stare out at the sun dipping down behind the black mountains, the tears fall, pouring from my eyes like waterfalls.
My Ryder is going to get sick soon, and I could be running out of time.
24
I get home that night and begin making as many freezer meals as physically possible before running out of freezer space. Pasta sauce, pot roast, Italian chicken, soup. Anything I can do to make their lives easier.
And then I lie down in bed, slipping into the deepest sleep I’ve had in a long time.
I wake up before the sun, and I still have a few hours before the shop opens. My stomach is turning, my vision tunneling as I stare up at the ceiling. The oak fan blades spin a million miles a minute, sending me into a loop of fear, wondering how the chemicals they’re going to pump into his body will affect him. If they’ll strip him of anything familiar, take away everything that’s mine.
I hop up and dig through my bag for my sneakers. I grab a sports bra and a pair of shorts and walk out the front door.
I actually don’t like running; I have a long history of despising physical activity. But this crazy energy that’s brewing inside me needs to be let out. I run down the street and come to a fork. One side is wooded with a few sparse houses. The other is clear-blue water melding into the dark-green mountains in the background. I turn toward the water and push up the hill in front of me, homing in on the lake. If I just keep pushing through the trees, up the hill…if I keep moving, I’ll reach it. The clear blue, the big, lapping wakes that hold all the answers I’m looking for.
At least, it used to.
Until it took all the answers away.
But it’s still so clear, so blue, so big and sure of itself.
I can feel the burn in my hamstrings and my lungs as I reach the crest of the hill, when I hear breathing from up ahead. I narrow my eyes at a clearing in the trees, and I see him, flying down the road with such anger in every step that it feels like the earth beneath my feet is rattling.
“Derrick?” I call out, and his eyes lift from the road to me. He’s huffing and puffing, sweat pouring down his brow. He comes to a halt a few feet from me, wiping his temple on his arm.
“Hey,” he says.
I come to a stop, too, more than happy to have an excuse for a walk-break less than two miles into my run.
He looks down at the ground again, kicking a small pebble in front of him. Then he looks up to me. I plead to him with my eyes, begging him to tell me something good. Begging him to let me know that everything is going to be okay. That our boy is going to be fine. That there will be a lot more cookouts and bedtime stories. More tomorrows.
He looks down at me, and I can see something building up in his eyes. I know what it is because I have the same thing in my heart.
He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something then closes it again. He puts his hand on my shoulder, then the other one.
Then he lets go, steps around me, and keeps going.
I look out over the water, shades of black and blue and green, and let a tear roll down my cheek.
My shift is supposed to start at lunch, but looking at the clock and watching the minutes roll by is killing me. I want to be with him today. To see him, make sure wit
h my own two eyes that he’s okay. But he made me promise not to ditch the shop today. Told me Derrick needed me more and that he would be fine.
I head in a little earlier and put my car in park in the lot. It’s quieter now that it’s in between seasons, but Derrick and I have a lot of winterizing to do today—putting away tubes and water skis, pulling down snowboards and actual skis.
I walk across the lot, gazing out at the lake, when I catch a glimpse of him, the most beautiful man in the world, out on the docks. He’s pulling up the poles at the end of the dock that keep it steady in the water.
I can still see his muscles bulging, his eyes calm, no strain in his face, no evidence of all his body has just endured. I walk down the steps and stand at the edge of the dock, watching him in silence for a few seconds. Everything is so normal, and I want to bask in it before it disappears altogether.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he says when he finally notices me. I’m getting used to this greeting. I give him a pained smile, wrapping my arms around myself.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”
He lays one of the poles down on the ground as he makes his way down the dock toward me. His lips pull up into a smile, and he pushes a piece of hair out of my face. He lets his fingers trace my chin, my lips. His other hand cups my cheek, and he strokes it with his thumb. I watch as his eyes scan my face, paying close attention to every detail, lingering on every corner. He pulls me in for a kiss, one so soft I’m sure it could kill me.
“I feel like I could walk on water,” he whispers then kisses me again. I close my eyes and let him hold me like this for a moment before I snap back to reality. To the cancer.
“Seriously, though, shouldn’t you get home?”
He chuckles.
“No, baby,” he whispers, and chills ripple across my skin. It’s been so long since he’s called me that. “I’m okay for now. So let’s just keep on goin’.”
Derrick and Ryder go through the day like nothing else is going on in their lives. Laughing and joking, moving all the summer displays to the back, replacing all the kayaks with snow tubes and toboggans.
Toward the end of the day, Derrick closes up in the back and heads out to cover Ryder’s shift at Lou’s. It’s the last one for a while because Lou, and Ryder, and Derrick—and seemingly everyone—knows that he won’t be up to it soon. That he won’t be able to work one job, let alone two. It’s like everyone around us is bracing themselves.
I help the last customers of the day find jackets and ski goggles and then send them to the front so that Ryder can check them out. I lean up against the door jamb of the storage room and watch as he smiles at them, listen as he suggests Linda’s Pizza for dinner, and tells them that the Lake Shore Creamery is still open for another week or so before they close for the winter.
“You guys will love it here,” he tells them, and then his eyes meet mine from across the room. “It’s the best place in the world to be with the person you love.”
I smile back at him and tuck away into the storage room, digging through boxes to find some more sweatshirts to hang on the racks at the front of the room. After a few minutes, I hear the ding of the bell above the door. I hear Ryder click the lock, and I hear him clicking on the mouse to close down the computer.
I picture him—even though he’s just feet away from me in the other room—smiling. Talking to the customers. The way he raised his eyebrows at me when he spoke. I picture that crooked smile, and I want to taste it. I picture his long hands that have years of work etched in them but are still the gentlest hands to ever have touched me.
And I realize that I miss him, even though he’s a room away.
And it’s terrifying to me how much I’ve grown to want him around, like everything I felt for him at sixteen, seventeen, has been amplified. Like my heart went ahead and made a decision to love him harder, longer, more intensely than I knew was possible. It betrayed me; it didn’t give me a moment, an option, to protect myself. I’m all in again.
“If I could end all my work days watching you bend over to unload these boxes, I’d be one happy son of a bitch,” he says, posting up against the wall behind me and crossing his arms over his chest. I jump and clutch my chest, not aware that he had come in. I laugh and give him a look.
Then, I turn back around and bend, as controlled as possible, to grab another pile of shirts from the box in front of me. I lift myself back up painfully slow, making sure to stick my ass out just a tad more than I had been before I knew he was in here.
I turn back to him slowly. His smile has faded, but his eyes stay locked on me, scanning my body until they reach mine. He takes a step toward me.
“If I could end all my days with you, period, I’d be happy,” he says, his voice a low whisper. I swallow. He takes another step toward me, this time nudging the closet door shut with his foot. He reaches me and pushes me gently against the wall behind me. He kisses me lightly at first, and then the urgency takes over, his tongue on mine and his hands in my hair. I tug at the hem of his shirt, lifting it up over his head. His chest is broad and sculpted, speckled with a little hair and warm against my body. He reaches down and pulls up mine, letting the fabric drag across my skin as he pulls it up over my head. I reach back and unclasp my bra, letting it trail down off my arms. His eyes alight as he stares at me, his hands sliding up my thighs until they reach my breasts, squeezing and caressing them until I’m hard under his touch.
He scoops me up with one arm and uses his other hand to unbutton my jeans. I help him tug them down over my hips and shimmy free from them then wrap my legs around his waist.
He sets me back down on the floor and tugs at my panties till they fall to the floor. I return the favor, and his pants and boxers lie in a heap next to mine. I take in the sight of every inch of him, wanting to both admire and devour him at the same time. I feel that magnetic pull toward him, like my body needs him within a certain distance. He drops to his knees for a moment in front of me, gently guiding me back to the wall, like he knows I’ll need the support. He brings his mouth to my center, and I feel my legs wobble instantly. I drop my head back against the wall and run my fingers through his hair, and he makes love to me with his mouth. Then, he stands back up, grabbing my hips with both hands and lifting me back up to him. I feel his hard length against me as I slide up his body, locking myself around him. He kisses me hard, his tongue tracing mine, and then lifts me off for a moment. He looks into my eyes with this intensity that makes my blood run cold and then slowly guides himself inside of me. We both moan together, and I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him as close to me as possible, savoring the very moment that our bodies become one. He begins to move in and out, and I’m swimming in that same glorious unknown territory that still feels so familiar. I clench myself around him, making every stroke in and out an insane ride.
“Ryder,” I moan, and it makes his grip on me grow tighter. I dig my nails into his skin as his hands slide up my ass and grab hold of my shoulders, holding me in place. He switches up the angle, and I grow louder.
“Ryder,” I say in a throaty voice, as both a warning and a cry for more.
“Oh, baby,” he whispers into my hair before he carries me across the closet to a small table we use for folding in the back corner. He shoves everything off of it, crashing to the floor, then lays me down gently. He slides out of me, leaving me silently screaming for him to come back. His lips trail up my body, over my stomach, and he takes each of my breasts into his mouth for just a long enough moment to make me pant, my hips bucking in his direction.
“Ryder,” I say again, “come on.”
He smiles as he looks down at me, and I watch as his eyes move across my face. He’s studying me like he’s trying to memorize every corner of my face, and then I realize, that’s exactly what he’s doing.
Making love to me like it’s the last time.
Before I can dwell on the moment, though, he’s back insid
e of me just as he takes my mouth in his, crashing into me from every direction and making my head spin.
He pounds in, slowly out, and back in again, and I’m arching my back to savor the way he hits a spot that I had long since written off as imaginary.
“God damn, Mila,” he groans just before one last long stroke. And then he freezes above me. When he catches his breath, he bends down to kiss my lips and trace my jaw with his thumb.
“Cosmic,” I whisper. He looks at me quizzically, then a smile appears on his lips.
“What?” he asks. I reach up and run my fingers through his hair.
“You and me. We’re cosmic.” Because that’s just what we are. Two people that don’t make a lot of sense, but the universe made a decision about us that cannot be fought. He bends down and kisses me once more.
“Cosmic,” he says.
When we leave the shop, we pick up Annabelle from Alma’s and grab a pizza from Linda’s for a late-night dinner. The three of us eat it over the island in the kitchen, laughing as she tells us about her day. She’s such a bright little girl, so much knowledge in her little head. It’s like, even though she’s too young to remember her mother, she absorbed all her smarts, soaked in all her goodness, all the saint like qualities that I’ve heard so much about. They’re reincarnated in her, and sometimes, it’s hard to remember she’s a child.
But then she rubs her eyes with the back of her little hand, a big yawn escaping her little body. I help wipe her hands and mouth with a wet paper towel and tap her nose with my finger.
“I love you, Mila,” she says as she looks up at me, her big eyes boring holes into me. I feel Ryder’s eyes on me as he swallows, but my gaze never wavers from her.
“I love you too, sweet girl,” I say, kissing her forehead.
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