My heart stuttered and then sped up. I reacted without thought. Placing the book on the bed, I launched myself at Rider just as he came off the window seat. We collided. I folded my arms around him as we went down onto the floor, me partially in his lap and his arms tight around my waist, his face burrowed against my neck. I felt a tremor run through his body and then he shook in my arms. I held him tighter as he broke into pieces, and years of holding it together shattered. I held him through it all.
Then it was me who put Rider back together.
Epilogue
The remote was right there, taunting me from where it rested on the thick cushion of the ottoman, next to the tray that held two glasses and a bowl of barely touched pretzels. All I would have to do was sit up a little and stretch. I could grab it and I wouldn’t have to watch any more of this basketball game.
Sitting up and stretching wasn’t exactly doable at that moment, though.
A heavy arm was curled around my waist, and if I moved too much, I’d wake Rider and that was the last thing I wanted to do, especially when he’d been so exhausted the last couple of days. The shadows deepening under his eyes every day the last two weeks worried me.
He’d been pulling a lot of hours at the garage on a custom paint job he’d finished up on Thursday. After school yesterday I’d gotten to check it out, and like every design of Rider’s, it had been amazing. Mind-blowing. I still had no idea how he could take paint and spray it on any surface, designing something so amazing and intricate.
This custom job had been on a car the owner raced at one of the tracks near Frederick. On the hood, Rider had painted a dragon, complete with detailed green-and-purple scales. Reddish-orange flames erupted from the dragon’s gaping mouth and crawled along the front side panels.
I’d snapped a picture of it with a real camera, to add to Rider’s ever-expanding portfolio of work. Like before, he had acted weird about it, as if he still didn’t know how to process recognizing his own talent.
I still had no idea how he didn’t see that, but he was getting better at it. Like so many other things, like me, it was a work in progress.
Rider had told me a few weeks ago that sometimes he opened up the photo book we’d picked up together at the craft store and just flipped through the pictures of his work. His cheeks had been bright red when he admitted it. I’d thought the reaction had been adorable. Sometimes we sat and looked at his art together, and he blushed then, too.
But the custom job wasn’t what had Rider worn out to the point that he’d fallen asleep the minute his head had hit the throw pillow on the couch.
This morning had been a big deal for him.
He’d used up every spare moment of the last several weeks preparing for the SATs he’d taken this morning. A smile inched across my face. Studying for the exam wasn’t something he’d ever thought he’d do. His taking the exam had probably shocked the entire school administration into stunned silence. Well, except for Mr. Santos.
A goal was scored, and the crowd on the TV cheered. Or was it a point? A basket? I really had no idea. Why c
ouldn’t I have telekinetic powers? Moving things with my mind would be awesome.
Glancing down at where Rider’s hand was lying on my lower stomach, I welcomed the dipping sensation. The fluttering feeling that occurred every so often with Rider wasn’t something that faded with time. I didn’t think it was ever going to.
Blue paint was smudged along the inside of his middle finger. He never seemed to get all the paint off his fingers.
I tilted my head back and looked to my right. The fluttering turned into a thousand butterflies bouncing between my ribs as my gaze coasted over Rider’s striking face. Feeling a little like a creeper, I continued to check him out. A lock of dark brown hair, the color of coffee, fell across his forehead. Thick lashes, much darker than his hair, fanned his cheeks. His full lips were slightly parted.
It seemed strange now that there was a point in my life, a point that lasted for several years, where I sincerely believed I’d never see Rider again. When lying like this, in his arms, was a fantasy I hadn’t even allowed myself to dream about. Now it was a reality.
Life was weird.
“If you take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he murmured.
My eyes widened as heat poured into my cheeks. “What?”
Lashes lifted slowly, revealing eyes that seemed to be neither completely brown nor green. “The picture will last longer than you staring. Then you can have a picture to cuddle with at night, when I’m not with you. You can hold it close. Squeeze it tight.”
I rolled my eyes as my lips twitched into a grin. “Whatever.”
“Uh-huh.” Lifting his arm, he stretched it above his head as he yawned. “When are Carl and Rosa getting here?”
I glanced at the pale gray wall clock. “Probably in an hour.”
“Good thing I’m awake instead of drooling on you as they walk through the door.”
“Yes,” I said seriously. “Good point.”
Rider smirked, but joking aside, neither Rosa nor Carl would be thrilled to come home and find us snuggled together on the couch. It wasn’t like they expected Rider and me not to get, well, close to one another. But they were still...adjusting to my relationship with Rider. It was another work in progress, and they were coming along. They were trying, and that was so much better than their being afraid of what they originally believed Rider symbolized.