He nodded slowly. “Then I’ll let her go.”
I couldn’t believe he said it. He said it without hesitation. He said it with such absolution it made my heart pause for a second.
So why … why did my paused heart hurt so much in that moment? Was I asking too much? It hadn’t been that long since his accident. We fell in love so quickly. And maybe that did mean everything. But did I say what I said because it was really how I would have felt in Angie’s shoes? Or was it easy to say that because I already had his love?
Why did it have to be so hard? So messy?
Closing my eyes, I shook my head. “Give it … give it more time.” I opened my eyes. “But draw a line. Like two months, six months, a year, whatever. Just draw a line so when we get there, we know it’s over. Whatever over means at that time. Then let yourself live. Because you are alive with or without the past.”
“January first.”
“January first,” I repeated. Just over two months away.
“If it doesn’t come back by then, I move forward without trying to look back anymore. I let her go. I let my family know I can’t marry someone I don’t love.”
“I can do January first.” I nodded several times. After five years and a handful of months without Fisher, I could survive two more months if it meant we would be together. “So … I’ll just keep my distance while you do your part to remember things and keep your family happy for as long as possible.”
His eyes narrowed. “Keep your distance? It’s going to be hard for you to keep your distance with my dick inside of you at every possible chance.”
There’s my crude naked fisherman. I’ve missed you.
I started walking again, my face revisiting its eighteen-year-old version of itself—flushed cheeks and neck. “And when do you think your next possible chance might be?”
“Can’t say.” He took my hand again.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s your birthday. And birthdays are for surprises.”
“So you’re going to surprise me with your dick?” I giggled.
“You’ll never see it coming.”
“Well, I won’t if it’s inside of me.”
He laughed.
I laughed.
And we spent the next hour hiking the trail that circled back around to the campsite. A few yards before the clearing, he stopped and pushed me off the trail, my back hitting a tree trunk.
He kissed me with a hunger that I felt in my bones. And as quickly as he pulled me off the trail and attacked my mouth, he ended the kiss and returned without me.
He nodded toward the clearing up ahead. “Coming?”
I peeled my back off the tree and fixed my beanie and straightened my jacket. “What was that?”
“What was what?” Fisher tucked his hands innocently in the pockets of his jacket.
“See … told you they didn’t get eaten by a bear,” Rose said to Rory as we made it back to the tents.
Rory rolled her eyes. “I didn’t think that.”
“You said it.” Rose eyed Rory flipping pancakes on the grill.
“Well, I was just kidding … sort of. Why didn’t you wake us up to go with you?” Rory asked.
“I thought I’d take the kiddo for a walk while you two had a little alone time.” Fisher gave them a suggestive grin. “Since she crashed your night with the truck alarm, blue lips, and chattering teeth.”
Rory and Rose laughed, but then they shared a look that said they did take advantage of their alone time. Which … made me think of the time I saw them in the shower. Yeah, that image was eternally burned into my brain.
“Take the kiddo for a walk?” I scowled at Fisher. “You make me sound like a five-year-old … or a dog.”
“If the leash fits.” He grabbed a bottle of orange juice out of the cooler.
I nudged the back of his knee, making his leg bend unexpectedly, throwing him a little off balance as he shut the cooler.
“Watch it.” He gave me a narrowed-eyed expression.
“Watch what, old man?”
“Listen to you two … it’s just like old times. Fisher, you and Reese used to fight and banter all the time, just like two siblings,” Rory said, handing me a plate of pancakes.
I took a seat in one of the camping chairs, and Rose poured syrup onto my stack of pancakes, pressing her lips together for a second before murmuring, “Siblings my ass,” so only I could hear her.
I winked at her, one of those cocky Fisher-style winks.
“No mancala for you two tonight,” I said to my mom and Rose. “You’re too loud. Too competitive.”
“Sorry.” Rory cringed. “Did we keep you up?”
I held up my thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “A wee bit.”
“Mancala? I love that game,” Fisher said. “We should play it tonight.”
“It’s only a two-person game,” Rory said, handing Fisher his plate of pancakes.