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You, With a View(52)

Author:Jessica Joyce

Some magnetic force in my body recognizes Theo’s energy as he stands behind me. I sway back into him, letting my shoulder rest against his chest. I can blame it on the lake rocking us.

Paul eyes us, an inscrutable look on his face. “Why don’t we make a deal?”

“Okay.”

“We’ll get through as much as we can over the next three days”—his expression softens when I wince—“but there’s no need to rush it. You’ve enjoyed reading your gram’s words, haven’t you?”

“So much,” I say thickly. “I knew a lot about her, but only through the lens of my own life, if that makes sense. Getting to know this part of her—her story with you—is like meeting her all over again.” My throat tightens, and Theo’s hand curls around my hip briefly, squeezing. “I just want every detail, you know? So I can keep feeling that.”

Paul nods, understanding lighting his blue eyes. “The story will come. Let’s do what we can here, and I’ll tell you the rest when we get home.”

A sense of foreboding gathers in my stomach. “I mean, I know the ending, but is it going to be bad?”

His expression softens. “Oh, Noelle, no. It’s life. Some of it may be painful, but it’s not bad, sweetheart. You and Theo standing here are living proof of that.”

I nod, my throat too tight to speak now. Theo releases a breath, stirring the hair at my neck.

Paul winks. “That’s our deal, all right? The story doesn’t have to end when this trip does.”

His words sink into me, pulling relief I didn’t even know I needed to the surface. Suddenly my bubble feels unbreakable. Timeless. I could stretch this story out for months if I wanted to. Get access to everything I’m craving: Gram’s secret, Paul’s friendship. Theo.

“It’s a deal.”

“Why don’t you two read the letter, and I’ll start us out nice and slow?”

“You’re going to drive the boat?” Theo asks dubiously.

“Better than you could, too,” Paul replies with a dimple-popping grin. “Don’t forget who taught you how to drive one, Teddy.”

I look over my shoulder, eyebrow raised, to see Theo’s eyes roll. But he’s grinning, the twin of Paul’s. He’s been looking happier the past few days; checking his quiet phone less, smiling more easily.

His hand traces down my forearm until his fingers tangle with mine. He tugs at my hand. “Come on, let’s read this while Elder Speedracer’s behind the wheel.”

We settle into our seats, and I hold the letter up so we can read together. Theo’s skin is warm with the scent of sunscreen and whatever level-ten potent pheromones he’s constantly giving off.

I blink down at the letter, forcing myself to concentrate on Gram’s handwriting instead.

April 2, 1957

Dear Paul,

I miss my mother. You’ll probably think it’s silly since I talked to her on the phone just yesterday. I miss her because I can’t tell her all the things I want to say about you. I used to tell her everything. She’d want to know I was in love, wouldn’t she? But if I told her, she’d go straight to my father.

I don’t regret my decision to keep this from them. It’s what has to be done, and the past few months with you have truly been perfect. But it makes me feel very far away from them. What will happen when school’s over and I have to tell them? Who will I lose? I don’t want to lose you, and I don’t want to lose them. I’m still searching for a way to ensure this ends happily. I know there must be an answer.

Please tell me it will be okay no matter what.

All my love,

Your Kat

At the bottom of the page is someone else’s handwriting. It must be Paul’s.

It will be okay. No matter what.

“I feel the bad news coming,” I say as the boat gains speed. “I know what happens, I know there’s no way to stop it, but I want to anyway.”

“Yeah.” Theo’s sigh is heavy. I look over just as his troubled expression smooths out. “She felt stuck. Like no choice was a good one.”

His voice goes quiet at the end, and there’s a familiarity there.

My camera is on the other side of the boat; I wish I had it so I could take a picture of him and show it to him later. Even if he feels stuck right now, my shot would show the miles of space surrounding him. The red rocks curving all around, the water below us, and the clear blue sky stretching endlessly above us. The sunlight glinting down on his hair, on his skin, making him golden.

I’d show it to myself, too, so I could remember this moment. Somehow the choices I’ve made, whether they’ve ended up being good or bad, have all done their fateful work to put me right here for a reason.

My knee kicks out, pressing against his. He looks at where we’re touching, then at me.

“It’ll be okay,” I say.

He nods and leans back in his seat, tipping his chin toward the sky.

A plane drifts overhead. From thirty thousand feet, the roar of the engines is barely a whisper. I tilt my head back to watch, pressing the letter to my chest. Absorbing Gram’s energy and love.

There are people in that plane, living entire complicated lives I’ll never know about, while Theo and I are down here, living the same one. For now, at least.

I reach over to take Theo’s hand. His fingers tangle with mine, and I squeeze, holding on as tight as I can.

Twenty-Four

Noelle.”

It’s barely a whisper at the edge of my consciousness, but I bat it away. I’m dreaming, floating in cotton candy clouds, the sun hot against my back even though I’m stomach-up.

There’s also something poking me, which makes no sense. Clouds are just air and moisture.

“Noelle.”

That voice again, this time singsongy with amusement. I hear my own irritated groan, but it turns into something more honeyed when a warm mouth grazes the back of my neck. A shiver skitters down my spine, shaking me into awareness.

It’s Wednesday morning, and we’re in our Sedona Airbnb. I’m in bed, rays of light pushing through the closed ivory curtains. Theo is spooned behind me, his hand running from my hip to my thigh and back as he kisses along the curve of my bare shoulder. Traveling is disorienting, especially when we’re moving from place to place, but there are perks. Being kissed awake is one of them.

“What are you doing?”

Silly question. I know a Theo Spencer seduction when I feel it.

And I really, really feel it.

“Waking you up,” he says. “It’s after seven.”

“Seven!” I try to sit up, but Theo slings his thigh over mine.

“Our tour doesn’t start ’til ten,” he says, his voice heavy with sleep.

We’re going on a Jeep tour today, but that’s not what I’m worried about. “Paul wakes up at the ass-crack of dawn. He probably—”

“Shh.” Theo’s lips skate up to my neck. He bites gently at my skin, drawing out a gasp. “My door is shut, and he’s not going to go barging in there. He has no idea I’m in here, and I’m good at sneaking out by now.”

“You’ve never stayed ’til seven,” I sigh out.

“Feeling lucky today. And very motivated to stay,” he murmurs, flipping me onto my back.

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