Secret Obsession: Miles

“How much farther?” Willow’s huffing and puffing on the trail. Her flashlight swings wildly, coasting across my feet and then up at the surrounding rock.

“Another half mile, maybe,” I call back.

I’m climbing with purpose, but I can tell my lovely girl is exasperated. I can’t really blame her. I dragged her out of the hotel at four a.m., put her in a taxi, and drove… here. Well, to the trailhead, which is about two miles back. And at least five hundred vertical feet below.

I came to this particular mountain as a kid. Or teenager. I don’t know. It was one of those bonding moments with my family that I think of when someone asks me to remember something happy.

So naturally, I want to duplicate it for Willow. Give her a happy memory of her own.

We have lots of happy memories already—but this one needs to stand out.

I stop and look back. The sky is getting lighter by the second, which means we need to hurry the fuck up. Willow stops, too, uncapping her water and taking a swig. I aim my flashlight at her, capturing the way her throat moves and sweat dots under her long blonde hair.

It’s grown out since she chopped it almost eighteen months ago. I like that it gives me more to hold on to when I fuck her. I like that the tips rest on the tops of her breasts when she’s naked.

“Do you need a lift?” I ask, but I’m already turning and going down on one knee.

I’ll be doing this again in a moment.

She laughs and climbs on my back without question. I rise, and she wraps her legs around my hips. She holds my shoulders, and her lips touch my neck.

I set off at a faster pace. She aims her flashlight at the trail ahead, although soon enough, we won’t need the light.

A little under fifteen minutes later, we crest the hill and come to a stop at the ledge that I remember so fucking clearly. It gives us a bird’s eye view of the valley below. And while it’s definitely not the tallest mountain we could’ve climbed—in fact, it’s more like a hill—it still manages to take our breath away.

“Wow,” Willow whispers. She slips down my back and steps around me.

The sun is starting to peek out over the horizon in the distance.

Just in time.

I slip my hand into my pocket, curling around the ring I’ve had for almost a year. I bought it after I got my bonus for signing with my team. I’d spend every last penny on her if I could—but I figured she wouldn’t want something overly flashy. It’s medium flash. Bigger than the one Greyson got Violet, for sure.

Doesn’t matter.

We watch the sunrise, the sky turning a beautiful riot of colors, and I go down on my knee again, this time watching her back. She’s illuminated in oranges and golds, the deep blues of night being chased away by dawn.

“Willow,” I say softly, and she turns to me.

Her gasp is everything. The way her eyes widen and her mouth drops open.

“I love you. I’ve wanted to marry you since the moment you dragged me down on the ice with you.” I smile. “You’re the best person in the world. You’re the only one I want to be with every moment of the day, for the rest of our lives. Will you make it official and marry me?”

Her chin wobbles, her eyes fill with tears.

I offer the ring to her, like she might need to inspect it before accepting. Although I already know she’s going to say yes. She would’ve said yes without a pretty speech, or a hike, or over a year of waiting. She could’ve married me right out of school, just after I signed on with my team, or even before that.

But waiting felt special, too.

My girl sometimes moves slowly with her emotions, and I wanted any lingering trauma to heal. Or fade. Marrying her isn’t a gut reaction out of fear that we’ll lose each other. Marrying her isn’t a way to keep her close when our world is ever shifting.

We did that without a piece of paper tying us together—although I do relish the mental image of ropes binding us legally. ’Til death.

But let’s be serious.

Even Hades wouldn’t dare separate us.

“Yes,” she says, those tears overflowing. She holds out her left hand.

I take it and slide the ring on her finger, then kiss those chilled fingers for good measure. I rise and cup her cheek and kiss her lips next. I pour every ounce of happiness and love into the touch, bending her backward. She clutches at my shoulders and laughs into my mouth. But she kisses me back just as eagerly.

Cheers break out across the hillside, and our friends—who made the hike in the dark to get here ahead of us—emerge from their hiding places.

“Oh my God,” Willow laughs, still clutching me. She presses her cheek to my chest. “Is this real?”

“Yeah, baby.” I’m unable to hold back my grin. “It is.”

THE END