There’s a light tap on my bedroom window right before it rises up. I smile and scoot over to my side of the bed, waiting for him to join me.
“I don’t get a greeting at the window tonight?” he says in a hushed voice, lowering the window behind him. He walks to his side of my bed and lifts the covers, then scoots in beside me.
“You’re freezing,” I say, snuggling into his arms. “Did you walk here?”
He shakes his head and squeezes me, then kisses my forehead. “No, I ran here.” He slides one of his hands down to my butt. “It’s been over a week since either of us has exercised. Your ass is starting to get really huge.”
I laugh and hit him on the arm. “Try to remember, the insults are only funny in text form.”
“Speaking of…does this mean you get your phone back?”
I shrug. “I don’t really want that phone back. I’m hoping my whipped boyfriend will get me an iPhone for Christmas.”
He laughs and rolls on top of me, meshing his ice-cold lips with mine. The contrasting temperatures of our mouths are enough to make him groan. He kisses me until his entire body is well above room temperature again. “You know what?” He pulls up on his elbows and peers down at me with his adorable, dimpled grin.
“What?”
“We’ve never had sex in your bed.”
I roll him onto his back. “And it will remain that way as long my mother is down the hall.” He laughs and grabs me by the waist and pulls me on top of him. I lay my head on his chest and he wraps his arms tightly around me.
“Sky?”
“Holder?” I mimic.
“I want you to know something,” he says. “And I’m not saying this as your boyfriend or even as your friend. I’m saying this because it needs to be said by someone.” He stops stroking my arm and he stills his hand on the center of my back. “I’m so proud of you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow his words, sending them straight to my heart. He moves his lips to my hair and kisses me for either the first time or the twentieth time or the millionth time, but who’s counting?
I hug him tighter and exhale. “Thank you.” I lift my head up and rest my chin on his chest, looking up at him while he smiles back at me. “And it’s not what you just said that I’m thanking you for, Holder. I need to thank you for everything. Thank you for giving me the courage to always ask the questions, even when I don’t want the answers. Thank you for loving me like you do. Thank you for showing me that we don’t always have to be strong to be there for each other—that it’s okay to be weak, so long as we’re there. And thank you for finally finding me after all these years.” I trail my fingers across his chest until they reach his arm. I run them across each letter of his tattoo, then lean forward and press my lips to it and kiss it. “But mostly, thank you for losing me all those years ago…because my life wouldn’t be the same if you would have never walked away.”
My body rises and falls against his huge intake of breath. He cups my face in his hands and he attempts to smile, but it doesn’t reach his pain filled eyes. “Out of all the times I imagined what it would be like if I ever found you…I never thought it would end with you thanking me for losing you.”
“End?” I ask, disliking the term he chose. I lift up and kiss him briefly on the lips and pull back. “I hope this isn’t our end.”
“Hell no, this isn’t our end,” he says. He tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear and keeps his hand there. “And I wish I could say we were about to live happily ever after, but I can’t. We both still have so much to work through. With everything that’s happened between you, me, your mother, your dad and what I know happened to Les…there will be days that I don’t think we’ll know how to survive. But we will. We will, because we have each other. So, I’m not worried about us, baby. I’m not worried about us at all.”
I kiss him on his dimple and smile. “I’m not worried about us either. And for the record, I don’t believe in happily ever afters.”
He laughs. “Good, because you’re not really getting one. All you’re getting is me.”
“That’s all I need,” I say. “Well…I need the lamp. And the ashtray. And the remote control. And the paddleball game. And you, Dean Holder. But that’s all I need.”
“What’s he doing out there?” I ask Lesslie, looking out the living room window at Dean. He’s on his back in their driveway, looking up at the sky.