His mom stands there awkwardly, probably thinking of 100 things she'd really like to say.
“Thanks for starting the fire,” Rye tells my dad.
His dad clears his throat. “You kids sure you know what you're doing?”
“I am a grown-ass man, Dad. I think I know what I want.”
His mom presses her lips together. “I just worry,” she says. “Prairie, you've had a rough deal and I worry… you may need more care than you can find here in this cabin.”
“I know,” I say. “I understand your worry, Annie, but,” I walk over to Rye and take his hand, resting my cheek on his arm. “I just want to be here with Rye. It's where I belong.”
Annie and Red stand there in a bit of shock. And I can guess what she's thinking. She probably thinks I must be confused after the trauma I’ve been through, and that Rye’s lost his mind to get tangled up with me.
The thing is that his parents don't know or understand and maybe never will—I belong here with Rye. Plain and simple. And I can't do anything to change that. I certainly can't do anything tonight.
“Thanks for the food,” Rye tells his parents. “I mean it, Mom. I really appreciate it. I'm guessing we'll want some coffee in the morning, and I wouldn’t have had anything to offer Prairie in the way of breakfast.”
“Well, now you have some bacon and eggs,” Annie says, putting on a smile. “Call me if you need anything. You know right where I am. I'm just up the mountain.”
“All right, Annie, come on,” his dad says. “I think we got to let these kids be.”
His parents leave and Rye locks the door behind them.
And then it's just Rye and me in the house alone.
I look at him and he looks at me.
Then, just like that, it's more than a look.
Then, it becomes everything.
7
RYE
The room is soquiet you could hear a pin drop. Prairie is looking up at me, her eyes wide, her lips parted. I can feel her heart beating. Her body pressed against my own.
“I don't want you to do anything you're going to regret,” I tell her, my voice slow, gravelly.
All day long, while I was at the urgent care, I was telling myself that I would hold back, have restraint, give Prairie space, all the space in the goddamn world. But now we're here, alone in my cabin with the fire blazing and the door locked.
It's just us.
This feeling that is pulsing between us is not one I've ever felt before. Damn.
This is beyond anything I believed could be true. Real.
“I don't want you to think about things,” she whispers. “I want you to say it all. I need to hear your words, Rye. I spent too long cooped up in my own mind.”
“You want to stay up all night talking?” I ask. “Because I'll tell you every damn thing. I'll tell you my life story. I'll write out an ending for ours.”
She shakes her head. “No. That's not what I want. I want you to make love to me.”
“You sure you know what you're asking for?” I ask her.
She lifts her shoulders. There are tears in her eyes. “I spent so many years alone, wanting to be touched. Desperate to be held and kissed. I wanted someone next to me when I went to bed at night, in my bed when I woke. And then somehow, today my life changed. I’m free and I’ve found you, and Rye, I'm scared.”
“Tell me what you're scared of.”