Colton’s arms come around me and lift me onto his lap so we’re facing each other. The towel slides from my shoulders, and a shiver runs through me, but I don’t feel cold. I only feel the heat of his hands as they slide up my back, into the wet tangles of my hair, and travel down over my neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of tiny sparks everywhere they touch. I kiss him, and he tastes like the ocean and the rain, and everything I want in that moment.
Thunder booms low and distant, and I feel a wave of need rise up in us both as our lips come together with more urgency. Our bodies follow, pressing against each other, wanting and needing to be closer. Colton shrugs off his towel, and my lips move to his neck as I run my hands down his chest to his stomach, where they trail along the edge of his trunks.
He pulls me into him like a reflex and finds my mouth again as I find the edge of my tank top. I peel the wet fabric away from my skin and pull it over my head, and the coolness of the air sends another shiver through me as I reach back and find the hook of my bra.
When I let it slide down my arms and drop to the floor, I feel the sudden inhale it causes in Colton. His hands come to my face, and he presses his forehead against mine, breathing hard. Out of focus. Eye to eye.
I hear the rain on the roof again. Feel my heart, pounding in my chest, and our breaths, shaky and uneven.
Colton pulls back the slightest bit and brushes his thumb over my tiny scar from the day we met. I close my eyes as he kisses it. He breathes in deep, then leans back, and when I open my eyes, he’s reaching for his rash guard. He pauses, just barely, then pulls it up over his head, and we sit facing each other.
Bare, in the soft light.
My breath catches as my eyes travel away from his, down to his chest, to the part of himself he’s kept hidden away for so long.
The scar starts just above the notch where his collarbones meet and cuts a thin, clean line down the center of his chest. I can feel him watching me take it in, feel him waiting to see what I’ll do, and in that moment, the need to reach out, to touch him, is overwhelming. I raise my hand, but hesitate in the space between us, not sure if it’s okay.
Without saying a word, he takes my hand in his and guides it to the center of his chest. Presses it against his skin so I can feel the pounding there that echoes my own.
“Quinn . . .”
My name is a whisper that pulls me to him, to a place where there’s only us, only now.
I let myself fall back onto the bed, pulling him on top of me until I can feel the full weight of his body pressed into mine.
His lips trail down my neck, brush soft over my collarbones, then come back to my mouth, and we kiss away our pasts. We kiss away everything that isn’t us, here, now. Our scars, and our pains, and our secrets, and our guilt. We give them to each other and take them from each other until they all fade away in the rhythm of the rain.
And breath.
And heartbeats.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“There are moments in life, when the heart is so full of emotion
That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a pebble
Drops some careless word, it overflows, and its secret,
Spilt on the ground like water, can never be gathered together.”
—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “The Courtship of Miles Standish”
I WAKE SLOWLY, so the only thing I’m aware of at first is a low, steady sound, and the rhythmic rise and fall of the place where I lay my head. I’m wrapped in warmth, but just beyond its edge is a current of rain-drenched air that makes me want to tuck myself closer to Colton, and the heat of his skin, and the beat of his heart.
For a brief moment the thought surprises me. For so long I thought of him as having Trent’s heart. I can’t say when it happened, or how it changed in my mind, but now that thought feels distant. Untrue even. This sound that I can hear and feel—it’s Colton’s heart. I open my eyes, and when I see the curve of his chin, the tan of his arm wrapped around me, it comes back in a warm rush, the memory of his soft lips pressed to me as the rain beat down insistently. That was his heart and mine together; those moments were ours alone.
Pale light filters in through the fogged windows, and I can still hear the soft hush of drizzle outside, punctuated by the sound of bigger drops from the cypress we’re parked under, as they land on the metal roof of the bus.
I bring my hand to the center of his chest, trace a delicate finger down his neck, and Colton stirs at my touch. He takes in a deep breath and covers my hand with his like he did before. Pulls it to his chest and smiles without opening his eyes.
“Hi,” I say, all of a sudden feeling a little shy, with our bodies still tangled under a blanket.
Colton cracks one eye open and then the other, and tilts his chin down so he can look at me. “So I didn’t dream it.” A smile spreads over his face. “Well. Not this time anyway.”
I laugh, give him a playful shove, but the flashes of us, with the rain all around, and the idea of him thinking of me that way send a whole new rush of warmth through me. I pull myself up to his lips, and his arms come around me; and just as everything is about to disappear again, I hear the buzz of my cell phone.
I start to reach for it, to see who it is, but Colton pulls me back into him and mumbles into my lips as he kisses me, “Don’t worry ’bout that right now.” I kiss him back as the phone continues to buzz before falling silent. Then there’s the short beep of a voicemail. A tiny worry tugs at me from the corner of my mind. I told Ryan I was going to see Colton. Maybe she’s just checking in.
Normally, I wouldn’t think much of it; but the storm—and the fact that I’m not where I said I’d be and it’s getting late—makes me anxious enough to pull away from Colton, pull the blanket to my chest, and reach for my phone.
When I see the home screen, my stomach drops.
Twelve missed calls.
Mom. Ryan. Gran.
Over and over.
“Oh god.”
Colton sits up, alert all of a sudden. “What?” he asks. “What’s the matter?”
I fumble with the phone, try to pull up the first voicemail. “I . . . I don’t know, I think maybe, maybe it’s—”