Ivy

I ’m…giddy? I’ve spent the past five nights at Alder’s house and have a good collection of cropped T-shirts at mine. I’ve only been to my place to change for work in the mornings and to grab a toothbrush. My purple toothbrush that is now in the cup by the sink in his bathroom. That thought has me more giddy than is acceptable. I grin, thinking about him putting it in there next to his when he found it left on the counter.

He sent me a text yesterday, telling me where the spare key was and to let myself in. I hesitated, trying to prove to myself that I could spend the night alone. Ultimately, all I proved was that I would rather be with him. I also wanted to know if he was okay. He was getting ready to lead a river rescue. Someone had decided to try ice fishing in an area that was restricted, for good reason, and was stuck out there, too scared to move. It makes me nervous to think of him in these situations, but I’ve witnessed time and time again that Alder is incredibly capable of the missions he goes on .

I think back to last night when he brought me chocolate croissants from Thistle and Sage. We were watching yet another documentary about a serial killer who specifically targets people in national parks. I’ve never met someone who could keep up with true crime like I do. I was telling him about the podcast I listened to. He pulled his phone out and, in seconds, had it queued and ready to go on the TV in his living room. Alder is so straightforward. He says what he means, and he means what he says. I’m not used to it, but I think I could get used to it.

“Please never go into a national park by yourself,” he begged.

“You either! One of the victims was a single man. It’s not just women, Alder,” I teased.

“I’m not really single, though, am I?” he asked while dropping lazy kisses onto my neck.

“Hmm…no, maybe not.” I could feel his smile against me before sitting up on the couch next to me.

“Now I need you to be honest with me for a minute, princess.” He was serious for a minute. I think my exact thoughts were “oh shit” and “not yet” even though I had no idea what he was going to ask.

“Will you…” he started, “watch Twilight with me?” He buried his face into my stomach, where it shook with my laughter. A deep, almost painful laugh broke free from me. I love how he teases me.

“Oh, my god. I thought you’d never ask,” I wheezed out between laughs and him kissing me.

Of course, after watching the first movie, New Moon had to be next, even though it was late. He tried to tell me he’d never seen it, but when Bella gets to the reservation to confront her werewolf best friend, he was saying, “Bella, where the hell have you been, loca?” right along with me and Jacob Black.

We explored each other's bodies and talked about space, which led to an in-depth discussion on which planet we would live on– if it was inhabitable.

When he got home from work, I wasn’t sure what kind of mood he would be in. He wanted me in his bed within minutes of walking in the door. I clench my thighs together, remembering the command in his voice. “Bed, . Now.”

The rescue was successful, and I would venture to say that the rest of the night had been as well. I blush thinking about the things he said to me. The things I said back. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before.

Sex? I’ve had it. Not a lot, if I'm being honest, but enough to rate it. At least that’s what I thought. On this side of the chart we have not great and on this side we have good . That was before. Alder Holloway is now the whole pie chart. Nothing I’ve experienced before is like what I’ve shared with Alder. It’s all good with him. So good. Everything. Before, during, after. All the time I spend with him is good.

I change out of a big red T-shirt with a sports team logo on it and some sweatpants and add them to the ever-growing pile of Alder’s clothing that I’m acquiring. I smile. I like wearing his clothes. I like smelling like him. He told me not to shower this morning so I would smell like him all day. A request that I could easily agree to. I put on a purple sweater and leggings, followed by a pair of thick socks and boots. Not bothering to put any makeup on, I French braid my hair straight down my back. I look in the mirror, and I don’t look like myself. Or maybe I look more like myself than I ever have.

The dark edges of myself that I’ve been clinging so tightly to have brightened a bit. Is this what happiness looks like? What healing could mean for me? It’s been so long. I feel lighter. Not weightless. I don’t think that’s the goal, but like maybe the weight of all that I’ve gone through, the future I had let myself dream about, isn’t something I have to continue to let crush me. Maybe if I let someone care about me, believe that they do, I can let them help me carry the weight of my grief and pain. I won’t have to bear it alone anymore.

I physically feel the shift in me. My revelation is so much more than surface level and the way I look outwardly. The reflection in the mirror is only a likeness to the transformation that’s been going on inside me. Feelings I bury over and over are coming to the surface, and I let them. I close my eyes and welcome them. Maybe…maybe I can honor Silas…by living a life filled with love. Pain. Love that I will continue to have for him until we’re reunited one day. I hear a choked noise and open my eyes to find it’s come out of my mouth. From somewhere deep in my gut.

I place shaky fingers to my lips as more emotion barrels into me. I try to avoid thinking about him, my idea of what life would have been with him, knowing that when I do, searing pain comes with it. Anytime I see a little boy around the age he would be, it sends imaginary images to my brain. Letting myself think about him now and be fully immersed in dreams that were stolen, when I didn’t feel like I was allowed to for so many years, is painful but also healing.

Noah wouldn’t talk to me about it other than to say that my miscarriage at three months pregnant was a blessing in disguise. I physically recoil, thinking about his callousness during the months that followed. After telling me repeatedly that losing my son was part of a bigger plan and maybe it was for the best since I wasn’t ready to be a mom, he took me to that horrible place, saying it would help, but I know now he took me there, so he didn’t have to deal with my depressive episode.

I was drowning in grief while he was attending company events, telling people I was at a spa. Most people assumed it was a rehab facility. Somehow, that was more palatable to the social circle I found myself in when I married Noah. How laughable.

But now, envisioning the little boy I never got to be a mother to, I know in my heart I would have been a good mother to him. I know I would have done anything for him. Would do anything for him to still be here with me. For the first time since his loss, I refuse to believe the lies I’ve told myself. I’m choosing to believe that sharing how my loss has affected me won’t make me weak; it will help me keep that love and the memory of Silas alive.

I swipe the tears from my face and smile. I’ve always prided myself on being capable. If I want something, I’ll figure out how to get it, but this may be the first time I feel the strength behind that sentiment. I feel resilient. I don’t want to let the fear of that pain stop me from experiencing love in other ways. I look down at the small glass jar I’m holding filled with candy strips. Alder. Alder, with his effortlessly kind and thoughtful nature, is helping me to realize that I don’t have to be fully healed to be cared for. I don’t think my objective has to be complete healing; I don’t think the love I will always feel for Silas requires healing, but maybe with Alder by my side and being vulnerable with him could help me find some peace my way .

It’s with this new outlook on life that I walk to the lodge. When I open the door to my office, the feelings of hope I’m getting used to are reinforced by the coffee cup that’s waiting on my desk and the absolute heartthrob of a man sitting behind it.

“Good morning, Stormcloud,” he says, rising from my chair and coming over to kiss me.

“Good morning, action hero,” I respond with his mouth still on mine and his arms wrapped firmly around my body.

“Have we had this conversation before?”

“Mmm…just this morning. And the one before. And the one before that…” I tell him in a singsong voice. He smiles so wide; those dimples I love so much pop. I sigh; I’m in so deep. I don’t want to get out.

“I missed you,” he whispers, and I grin.

“I left your house less than an hour ago. Obsessed much?”

“Possessed,” he says without missing a beat. I blush.

“I know the feeling.” Feeling brave, I continue, “What we’re doing here…it’s…”

“It’s everything, .” He finishes my sentence, and I nod.

“I…” I clear my throat. I’m ready to declare myself. I want him. For as long as I can have him. I want his sunshine and warmth, and I want all his late nights, and I want to be his first call when he gets off a shift. “I have a lot of baggage, Alder. Like a lot of baggage, and I haven’t always been good at letting someone take care of me.” He smirks at that, and I glare at him. “If you’re going to look at me like that, then we can forget I said anything at all,” I threaten.

He pinches his lips between his teeth to stop what I’m sure is a smile and mimes locking them shut before smoothing a loose strand of hair behind my ear .

“With that being said,” I hedge. “I like it when you check on me.” But that’s not exactly what I’m trying to say here. I try again. “I like that you care enough to check on me. I like that you want me to eat a more balanced diet and you like going grocery shopping with me. I like that you sing all the time, and you don’t care that you look like an idiot.”

“That’s debatable. I look good when I sing,” he cuts in, and I laugh a little, a tear slipping down my cheek. He swipes it away, and I speak again.

“I like that you’ve been through something awful and remained the kind of human that people benefit from having in their life.” I choke a little. “I like that your family has little picture frames on their Christmas tree, Alder. I think…” My eyes water again, feeling the words before I speak them. “I would like to be on the tree someday,” I say, barely able to get it out because I've started breathing so hard, and his answering smile makes him look like light, personified.

“If you want to be on the tree, then you’ll be on the tree, baby,” he says with a voice that sounds like something contained, but that’s about to be let loose. “I’ll get seven trees, and they’ll all be filled with pictures of you,” he tells me before his warm, strong hands thread into me. One at the base of my skull in the messy braid that’s there, and the other grips the back of my jacket. This kiss consumes me. I’m filled with fire, and it’s spilling out of me and into Alder as we claim each other. I love him. Our kiss is interrupted by a loud ringing. Not a phone, but similar. Alder pulls back and looks into my eyes. His are like blue flames and reflect the heat I feel all over me.

“That’s the emergency SAT phone. I have to answer,” he tells me, and I nod.

“No, of course.” I try to pull back, but he holds me for a second longer and kisses my forehead before releasing me to retrieve the phone from his coat that’s slung over the back of my office chair.

“Alder Holloway” he answers, then he’s quiet for a few moments. I wait, reeling from our interaction and also watching his face shift into stone. He’s locked in on this call. It’s now making me anxious. “Understood. Ten minutes.” He hangs up and looks at me. “If it wasn’t an emergency—” he starts, but I cut him off.

“I know who you are.” I smile. “Go be the action hero I know you to be, and then come home to me.” The word home hits us both in the chest if his next move is any indication. He picks me up and kisses me so deeply it makes my head spin. If I’m a flame, then he’s pure oxygen. I’m lit up with him.

“I’ll be back. We’ll talk more,” he states, and I laugh. The levity of telling him how I feel threatens to have me floating out to space. He kisses me again, hard. “We’ll do a lot more of this too,” he demands, and I giggle. The return of the giggle.

“We will.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He grabs his jacket and walks by me again, pulling me to him once more, and my cheeks have to be fire-engine red at this point.

“Be careful,” I whisper.

“Always, baby.” He winks, and then he’s gone. Leaving me with a goofy smile and enough adrenaline to restart a heart.