“Are you always so reliable?” she asks me.
I shake my head, thinking about the last year and how my family thinks I’m anything but responsible and reliable. They think I'm a goddamn ass. Prairie sees the best in me, the true me.
But Prairie only knows me as the man I am right now. In this moment.
“Prairie, why don't we eat something, and I'll let the fire die down and then we'll get in the truck. Okay? We'll head back down the mountain. And in a few hours, I'll have good reception and I'll be able to call the police and let them know to expect us. You think you can handle all that?”
She nods. “With you by my side, I feel like I can handle anything.”
“How are you so confident with a man you just met?” I ask her.
She runs her hand through my hair, cupping my cheek. Her thumb running across the rough skin under my eyes.
“I just know that you're mine,” she says. “I told you I was dreaming about you. And I believe in fate. I believe that there's light after dark, that good wins out over evil.”
“You're this optimistic after everything that happened to you?” I ask, shaking my head, wondering how anyone can be so good. So pure.
She smiles softly. “Rye,” she says, “I'm choosing to believe all those things. Because if I didn't, those years I was locked up in that cabin, I don't think I could have gotten through them. I don't think I could have survived if I gave in to the pain. I had to stay in the light.”
I take her hand and squeeze it tight and fuck, it feels good to be grounded in someone so pure.
It's what I need.
She is what I need.
* * *
Thirty minuteslater we're in my truck. The cabin’s all locked up and emptied out.
I can't imagine us coming back here anytime soon, considering the hell she went through less than five miles away.
When I start driving, she begins to marvel at all the tiny little details that I take for granted.
The leather seats of my truck, the electric windows, the heat.
“Damn,” I say. “I can't even begin to imagine what you've been through.”
“Don't,” she says, “don't try and imagine any of it. But can we please listen to some music? Because I haven't listened to any music in four years.”
“What kind of music do you like?”
“I'm not picky.”
“How about the radio?” I turn it on and she begins to turn the knob, scrolling her way through the static until the first station clearly comes through. The song, of course, is another burst of destiny. It's the Beatles. “Here Comes The Sun.”
She begins singing along, smiling. Laughing, her head falling back on the headrest. Her fingers reach for mine and they lace together.
I drive down that mountain light as a feather.
“Tell me about Home,” she says. “It might make me less nervous to go back to civilization.”
“Fuck, I didn’t consider that. Are you scared?”
“Yes,” she says gently. “But if we’re together, I will be less so.”
“Home has good restaurants, safe streets, festivals, and my family established the town back in 1910, if you can believe it. Home is about as good as any town in the world.”
“Have you been to many places in the world?” she asks.