Afterward, we lay tangled together in the sheets, breathing hard and staring at the ceiling while the storm continued its assault on the cottage. Eric moved to rest his head on my chest.
After a few minutes, he lifted his head to gaze into my face. "Think we'll get better at it with practice?"
I smoothed his hair back from his forehead. "There's only one way to find out."
He laughed.
"Lots of experiments," I grinned.
"I like how you do science."
Eric's breathing slowed as he rested his head back on my chest. "Listen to that wind. I hope it doesn't blow us to Oz."
"Forty knots at least. Maybe fifty by morning."
"Should we worry?"
I pressed my lips to the top of his head. "Nah. This cottage has been through a lot worse."
"Wes?" Eric's voice was soft as if he were afraid to disturb whatever fragile peace had settled over us.
"Mmm?"
"I didn't think..." He paused, searching for words. "I never imagined it could feel like this."
"Like what?"
"Safe. Is it possible that home isn't a place but is a person?"
Eric lifted his head again, and in his eyes, I saw something that looked suspiciously like my future taking root. When he settled back against my chest, he reached for my hand beneath the sheet. "You don't have to answer that yet."
Sleep soon claimed him. I lay awake listening to the storm and the soft sounds he made as he dreamed. The storm raged around us, but we had each other, and we had time.
Eric mumbled something in his sleep that might have been my name, and I closed my eyes and let the sound of rain and wind and his quiet breathing carry me toward whatever dreams were waiting.
Chapter twenty-one
Eric
Wes adjusted the thermos strap across his shoulder for a third time, checking the seal. Our supplies were sparse—a few granola bars, my phone with its perpetually low battery, and his leather-bound weather journal that accompanied him everywhere like a faithful dog.
"Trail's going to be rough." He nodded toward the path that faded into a tangle of brambles. "Haven't maintained this section in years."
The route stretched ahead of us, barely wider than a deer track. Thorny canes reached across the narrow corridor like grasping fingers.
I stepped over a fallen branch. "I'm sure you realize you carry that weather brain of yours everywhere. Do you ever experience weather without analyzing it?"
"Better to be prepared."
We began climbing in elevation through dense undergrowth. I asked, "When do you think is the last time anyone used this path?"
"The Coast Guard used to patrol here regularly, but that would have been before the budget cuts over ten years ago. Most people stick to the maintained trails now."
Wes's tone suggested he wasn't like most people. Sometimes, he deliberately sought out forgotten places. I wondered how often that spirit extended beyond hiking.
I watched him look up, checking the sky and reading atmospheric signs I couldn't interpret. We paused for a brief rest, leaning against a boulder. "You're quiet… even for you."
"Thinking. Storm's building. Maybe not today, but we're due for a big one soon."
