Razor’s lips tug up and he rubs his thumb over my hand. “Then we’ll have to make sure we have a plan in place in case plans change.”
I giggle and Razor chuckles.
“I read up on it,” I say. “In case my parents did let me see you again.”
“Are you happy here?” He doesn’t look at me when he asks and I wonder what he wishes my answer would be, but then I chastise myself for thinking such things. Razor craves the truth.
“Yes. It’s, oddly enough, still high school and there are still high school problems, but the classes are phenomenal. It’s like mind crack without killing the brain cells.”
“Good.” By the way his blue eyes soften, he means it. “Good.”
“Did you ever doubt this moment would happen?” I ask. “Being together again?”
“Did you?” He turns the question around to me.
It somehow feels like a betrayal to admit I had no idea if we would stay together.
“I was scared I’d never see you again,” he admits. “That once you got here, you’d change your mind about me.”
“Never. Just never, but, yeah, I was like you. I wasn’t sure if it would happen or if you would have second thoughts.”
A quick squeeze of my fingers. “Never.”
We near the spot where the path is engulfed by the neighboring forest and my heart quickens. No one can see us here. No one will know what is done or how we do it and—
Razor moves, lightning-fast, and my breath rushes out of my body. One arm encircles my waist, the other caresses my face, and in a moment that feels like an eternity, he lowers his head and brushes his lips to mine.
Everything inside me explodes. Our mouths move, tongues dance, hands explore and we soon remember the precious and delicious parts of each other. Heat builds, but it’s the emotion that causes me to go weak.
The way Razor’s palms frame my face, the gentle way his hands run through my hair and the reverent way his fingers skim along my back. It’s as if he’s kissing me like I’m a dream, as if he doesn’t believe I’m real.
A buzz of Razor’s cell and we break away. He’s breathing hard and so am I. A glance at the message. “Pigpen says your brothers think we’re taking too long.”
I laugh because we totally are and there’s no way to hide what we’ve been doing. Razor’s hair is tousled and his lips are swollen. He grins as he slides a finger along my neck, where there are no doubts that my skin has flushed.
“No one said we couldn’t kiss,” I say.
“True. That was not one of the rules.”
His laughter fades as he tucks my hair behind my ear, then pulls me into the shelter of his body. I lay my head on his shoulder and let one of my hands rest on his solid chest.
“I’ve missed you.” Razor nuzzles my hair, then kisses the top of my head.
“I’ve missed you, too.” I hug him tight and breathe in his scent of autumn air and leather. The smell of freedom. “We’re going to make this work, right?”
“Yes,” he says. “That’s a promise.”
RAZOR
THE FIELD FEELS lonely without Breanna, and because of that, I had promised myself I wouldn’t come unless she could join me, but I’m on a mission for someone I loved before Breanna. I have a promise to keep to Olivia.
I take off my leather gloves and stick them in my jacket and my warm breath billows out into the cold air. The trees have lost their leaves, the grass is now brown, but the memories of Breanna’s laughter, the feel of her body pressed against mine make this place as colorful as it was this fall.
My cell vibrates and I pull it out as I pause near the abandoned bridge. It’s Breanna: Am I late? My meeting ran over and then I couldn’t get a signal until I stepped outside.
Even a hundred miles away, at times, it’s like she’s beside me. Me: Just in time.
Breanna: I wish I could have met her.
Having Breanna on the other end of my cell steals away some of the ache. Me too.
Olivia would have loved her. Me: Give me a few and then I’ll video call.
Breanna: Sounds good. I love you.
I walk onto the abandoned railway bridge and peer at the bridge upstream. I haven’t been here since the day Kyle forced Breanna onto the tracks. Haven’t had the guts or the desire to. This field belonged to me and her, and the bridge Kyle dragged Breanna on and then the bridge a little farther down has affected my life in ways I’m not sure anyone can understand.
Bridges are meant to connect. They’re meant to defy drops and distances, but occasionally we lose our way...we fall off, we drive off, we consider jumping.
Mom’s bridge—I lost my way. The bridge I’m standing on—I had spiritually jumped. The bridge where I tackled Kyle—I saved myself.
The colder air carries the sound of the tractor trailers crossing over the busy state road a few miles ahead and off in the distance a train whistle blows. Six months ago, I was mourning the loss of Olivia and my mother, I never knew I’d know love and I was estranged from my club and father, if not in body, then in spirit.