Promise Me This (Between Breaths 4)

My heart lurched. “So do you, Mom.”

“I know,” she said. “And I’ll get there. I will.”

As I edged past each tent, the same phenomenon occurred that always did when I spotted Jessie from a distance. It would begin as a slow burn in my gut, travel up the center of my chest, and then erupt into a raging firestorm. There was nothing I could do except attempt to pull air inside my lungs, that’s how damn badly I wanted to be with her.

Earlier she’d been wearing a light jacket, but now that the sun was blazing, she had shed her layers and her colorful sleeve of tattoos was exposed. When she turned to speak to a bystander, I noticed something new inked on the back of her shoulder.

The skin around the tattoo looked red and tender, which gave me a clue that it’d been fairly recent. As my unsteady legs carried me closer, I recognized the outline of a very familiar railroad bridge, and I nearly swallowed my tongue.

My lips parted to call her name, but I held myself back, needing to get my thoughts in working order.

Right then Jessie’s head twisted in my direction and our eyes met. I felt an instant jolt, as if a shock of lightning had been aimed directly at my center.

A wash of color spread across her cheeks and down her neck and I wanted to grab her and spin her in my arms, that’s how fucking alive she made me feel.

A spectator stepped into my line of sight and when she reluctantly turned to greet them, I entered at the side of the tent to check out the photography exhibits.

My gaze was drawn to her spotlight immediately. Not only because I recognized myself in it—but also because it was amazing. In the center of the display were the words: The sun’s PROMISE to the moon.

A breath lodged in my lungs as I took all of it in. There was a light and a dark theme to her project, which she created with black-and-white film and varying degrees of exposure. On the “dark” side were the covered bridge photos, near my childhood home. I materialized in the lower left frame in one of the shots, and it wasn’t lost on me how practically lifeless my eyes appeared.

I sucked in air as I read the script positioned in the middle of those photos, right above a dark and ominous zoom view of the bridge’s tunnel. It read, Let me be your moon—so that every night, I can illuminate the lonely cavern of your soul.

In the midpoint of the presentation there was a progression of color, which led to the other side—the “light” end of the display. It was the railroad bridge in full dazzling color, with the sun blazing and a vivid blue sky framing the shots.

And there I stood on the tracks looking so damn . . . I don’t know—full of life, happy. All because of her. The script on that end of the presentation read, Let me be your sun—so when I burn out each night, you can be the breath and the beacon that leads me home.

I felt Jessie’s body heat, but I didn’t turn. Instead I stretched my hand to find hers and interlaced our fingers. I tugged at her arm in order to position her in front of me. Then I slid my palms around her waist to draw her nearer.

We stood motionless, staring at her amazing creation and in that instant I was too choked up to speak. The tent had cleared so it was only her and me in that singular moment. And it was perfect. She was perfect.

She trembled when I leaned forward and brushed my lips across the raw skin on her shoulder. “When did you have this done?”

“Cory did it a few days ago, while I was putting the final touches on this project,” she mumbled. “I officially love bridges now. And I realized how much that weekend meant to me. All of it.”

My heart was pounding in my chest. For her to permanently ink something on her skin that linked us together blew my fucking mind. She had just given me another gift and it was the confirmation I needed to move forward.

As I cupped her jaw, I slid my mouth along her neck and felt her ragged pulse against my lips.

“I’ve never really let myself wish for anything before,” I whispered against her hair and she shivered. “But here you are.”

“Nate,” she sighed, resting her head on my chest.

“Your exhibit is incredible, Jessie,” I breathed. “It’s daring and brave, but at the same time, it feels like a secret present just for me.”

I heard her sharp inhale as I continued.

“I don’t want to go another day without you,” I whispered.

Her shoulders clenched and I held my breath as she turned her misty gaze to mine.

“As soon as I got in that beat-up Daisy Duke truck, it was a foregone conclusion.” I lifted my shoulder in a shrug. “That I would belong to you.”

My fingers skimmed her nape as I stared deeply into her eyes. “I’m hoping you feel the same way.”

Her mouth quirked. “You need further verification beyond a tattoo and an entire art exhibit?”

My lips found her ear. “I need to hear you say it, baby.”

“You are a caveman,” she said, leaning over and kissing my throat. “Of course I belong to you, Square. Like the sun belongs to the moon. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

My heart climbed its way into my throat and I squeezed my eyelids shut at the intensity of her words.

“Fucking kiss me already, Square,” she whispered against my lips.

My eyes snapped open. This girl was so the shit. And she was all mine.

I gathered her face in my hands and claimed her mouth in a slow and deep and sensual kiss. Our lips remained melded that way for a long while until a group of rowdy students entered the tent.