I didn’t know what I would say to him or what we would do or how we would make it work, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t leave him. I had to find him. I had to tell him.
I nearly laughed, excitement and nervousness invading every limb at once as I jumped out of the car again. Momma Von was watching me with confusion, and I opened my mouth to answer her unasked question, but then everyone’s eyes shifted to the end of the driveway.
Anderson was already walking toward me, wearing the sweater I’d bought him and the tool belt I’d made that he swore he’d never wear. I succumbed to the laugh I’d been fighting at the sight of it, but my smile fell quickly as he stepped into my space, just his presence alone enough to steal my breath.
His eyes were the brightest blue, his strong jaw square and steady. He held a thin square package tucked between his arm and his ribs, but he didn’t offer it to me. First, he just stared, the muscle under his jaw ticking as he fought to find the words he’d come to say.
“Thought I’d never see you wear that,” I teased, breaking the silence as my fingers reached out to tap the leather belt. He’d hung his tools in the pockets I’d made in it, and seeing him wear something I’d made for him stirred the already chaotic emotions inside me.
Anderson didn’t smile, but he took a breath, letting it go along with the tension we both felt. Then he took just a tiny step closer, eyes zeroing in on mine.
“I love you, Wren,” he said, voice strong and smooth as the river. “For everything that you are and everything that you aren’t. I love you dancing in the kitchen and signing 90’s songs off-key.”
I’d almost forgotten we had an audience until they all chuckled at that. I laughed, too—though tears filled my eyes.
“I love you all dolled up, long legs in high heels and red lips. I love you no makeup, just woke up, lazy smile. I love how your lips taste when you’ve finished your morning coffee and cinnamon rolls and I love the little wrinkle on your forehead and how you stick your tongue out a little while you sketch on the front porch.”
I squeezed my eyes closed, releasing two tears before I opened them again.
Anderson stepped into me, brushing away one of the tears with the pad of his thumb. I leaned into his touch and he rubbed my cheek, eyes searching mine.
“I don’t know how this is going to work. I don’t know if this is forever or for a year or maybe even just for another week,” he said. “But I know that whether it’s seasonal or for life, this—our love—I will fight for it, Wren. Until I have no breath left to fight.”
“Atta boy,” Ron muttered under his breath.
Everyone laughed again, and even Anderson surrendered to a smirk. Then he pulled his hand from my face to grab the package he’d been holding. It was wrapped in simple brown paper and twine, and he held it out for me to take.
“I told you before that Dani used to do words of the day,” he said as I gently unwrapped the paper. I let it fall to our feet as I held out a beautiful sketchbook thick with blank pages. The cover of it was wood, freshly stained, with a single word carved in neat script right in the center.
Oenemel.
“It means strong and sweet all at once,” he said, answering the question I hadn’t asked yet. “The day Dani told us that word, I made fun of it. I didn’t think anything in the world could be both strong and sweet. Not until I met you.”
I smiled, but choked on a cry, more tears letting loose as I used my free hand to swipe at them. I looked up at Anderson, the most gentle and kind person I’d ever met, and I realized the feeling that had shook me to my very core at the thought of losing him wasn’t just want or need.
It was love.
“I know you’re having a hard time finding the inspiration to sketch right now,” Anderson said, nodding toward the book. “But I made this for you because I want you to know that whether you stay or go, whether we make it or not, I believe in you. And I always will.”
I looked down at the book again, tracing the engraving with my fingers before placing it in the driver seat behind me and jumping into his arms.
He caught me easily, strong hands finding my waist as I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him with every emotion I was feeling. Love, adoration, disbelief, awe, fear. When I pulled back, cheeks still wet, I shook my head as if he didn’t truly exist.
“I love you, too, Anderson,” I breathed, and his hands squeezed where he held me as he let out a long exhale of relief. “I love you grumpy and cursing while you work around the cabin and I love you happy and carefree walking beside me along the river.” We both laughed, and I traced the edge of his jaw with my thumb. “And I am so sorry I ever made you doubt my feelings. I don’t care if they’re right or if the timing doesn’t make sense. I learned the hard way what happens when you listen to what should be instead of listening to your heart, and I’ll never do it again. I love you. And I don’t know what happens next, but I know I want to find out.”
Anderson smiled, moving his hands to cradle my face before pulling me in for a longer, softer kiss.
Everyone clapped around us and we broke the kiss with another laugh, Anderson tucking me under his arm as we turned to face the people who loved us. Momma Von was a sobbing mess and Ron beamed with pride. Everyone else was just smiling, even Tucker, and I leaned into Anderson, resting my head on his shoulder.
“Can you stay with me tonight?” he asked, voice just above a whisper in my ear.
I nodded, and he kissed my forehead before addressing the group.
“Alright, gawkers, you’ve seen the show. Now get out of here so this gorgeous girl and I can make some plans.”
They all cheered, a mixture of laughter and I told you so’s and congratulations and about damn time’s rolling in at us all at once. I just smiled up at Anderson as he looked down at me like he was the luckiest guy in the world.
“You ready?” he asked.
And even though I had no idea how we would make it work, or what would come next, I answered without a single doubt in my mind.
“Ready.”
AB OVO
ab-OH-voh
Adverb
From the beginning
My hand shook a little as I released Wren’s and unlocked the door to my cabin. It was the first time I’d invited her inside it, the first time I’d let her in to see the place I called home.
The funny thing now was that she felt more like home than any cabin or town ever did.
When I pushed the door open and placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her inside, I swallowed back the last bit of nerves still hanging around. She was here, she was staying—at least for the night—and she loved me, too.
Nothing else mattered.