That’s the one thing we understand—becoming lost.
“I’m tired of living in the past.” I’m tired of it dictating my future.
“Mrs. Collins likes going there,” Noah mutters.
She does, but it’s because it’s where Noah and I seem to wallow. “Can we pretend for tonight that we don’t have pasts?”
I warily glance at Noah, and he’s mirroring the same look. “What does that mean?”
It means it’s exhausting being the daughter, the sister, the girl with the scars... “I’m so defined by everyone else’s actions that...that I don’t know. I’m Echo, right? And you’re Noah.”
Raised eyebrow on Noah’s part. “Uh-huh.”
The chains strangling me unlock, and I practically float. I’m heading in the right direction, even though Noah’s convinced that I’ve bought a plane ticket to crazy.
“So I like to paint, and you like architecture, and let’s pretend that none of that has anything to do with our pasts. Like...we’re together because I love you and you love me and there is no other worry in the world.”
Noah gives me an amused grin. “You want us to pretend we’re who we are now. I need to define role-playing for you. If we’re going there, I’ve got a few ideas.”
A strange adrenaline rush of embarrassment and lust overheats my body. “Not role-playing.”
His shoulders shake as he laughs. I lightly smack his arm and settle back into his chest. “You’re impossible.”
“Damn straight.” Noah runs a finger down my arm. “Seriously, I get it. No more heavy stuff for tonight. I can deal with that.”
That’s exactly it, yet not. I scan the camp, and beyond the fires in the distance only total blackness exists. But when the sun shines in the morning, it’ll be a wonderland of sights: the mountains covered in green trees, the flowers creating a palette an artist would die for. Lying in that field today, I forgot my problems, and it felt amazing.
Frogs and crickets perform a symphony, and the smell of the pine wood burning in the flames tickles my nose. Noah and I are a thousand miles away from every push and pull and worry of the real world.
“I wish life could be like this forever,” I say. “We’d be okay then. We’d forever be okay.”
Noah kisses the bend of my neck, and I sharply inhale with the divine sensation.
“I could build you a house,” he whispers. “I thought about it while I watched you paint.”
I suck in the corner of my bottom lip. Is he saying this because he’s simply playing along with the idea that we’re unattached to anyone or anything but each other for the night? “Where?”
He points to where the mountains lie. “Up there. I can see you sitting on our front porch, completely entranced with the land below. You’d have all the inspiration you’d need and never have to leave our home.”
Our home. A thrill circles in my chest. “So I stay home and you...” I drop the statement, curious how he’d answer.
“Stay home with you.” Oh, God, his deep voice vibrates down to my soul.
“One of us has to make money. I’m assuming houses on mountains, especially those in national forests, are pricey.”
With a pop, more embers fly into the sky, and the fire begins to fade. Noah releases me, and cold air rushes to my back. He edges close to the fire and uses a long stick to stir the flames. “Didn’t you know? You bank millions off your paintings, and I run my architecture firm from home.”
My smile spreads from ear to ear, and I love how Noah’s chocolate-brown eyes dance when he peers at me from over his shoulder. I’m especially in love with the game we’re playing. It makes life, as Aires had told me, seem less complicated.
“Will we have pets?” I bite back the question regarding kids. While this might be a fun fantasy, imagining being responsible for something like that is terrifying.
“Sure.” Noah stays near the fire on one bent knee and occasionally pokes it to keep the dwindling flames alive. “I had a dog once.”
“What type?”
“A mix of some sort. Part Lab, part something smaller than Lab. Its paws were too big for its body, so it skidded across the kitchen floor.”
“Is that what you want?”
“If we’re going to live alone on a mountain, we need a guard dog. A German shepherd. Something like that.”
“Guard dog?” Not what I had in mind for the fantasy. “We need something cute and cuddly.” I squish my fingers in the air as if I have the little puff ball in my hands. “It can sleep in our bed.”
“No fucking way, Echo. I’m not sharing my bed with a dog.”
There’s something indescribably titillating about Noah taking this theoretical glimpse into our future so seriously. While I couldn’t care less if a dog sleeps in the bed I’d share with Noah, I can’t help but tease him. “But it’ll be our baby. We can’t let it stay on the cold floor.”