Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“Yep.” Carson lowered his window, and I did the same, so that the crisp night air and forest scents of dirt and pine could fill the truck. Above us, a canopy of stars hung, practically begging to be admired.
“Stars are out. Wanna take a look?” I asked as I pulled into a clearing. No other cars around. Far from the town’s light pollution. Fine place to stop.
“Sure.” Carson followed me to the back of the truck, where we perched on the tailgate. The very spiffy tailgate with a built-in step and auto-lowering feature. Somewhere, my father was grumbling about unnecessary upgrades.
“Comfy.” Carson stretched back to admire the sky, hands behind his head.
“Okay, the sprayed-in bed liner is pretty sweet,” I admitted as I did the same. Standing, I was decidedly taller, but lying back like this, our heads were at the same level. And much, much too close. I ran my hand down the slick black truck liner to distract myself from how Carson smelled like the ocean, despite the nearest one being thousands of miles away.
“Told you.” Carson chuckled, apparently nowhere near as troubled by our proximity. His elbow bumped mine. “Chevy rules.”
“You win.” I made an exaggerated noise of defeat that earned a laugh from Carson.
His laughter petered out as we took in the stars above us. The vast, inky sky was filled with glittering stars, bright as diamond chips, whole universes hanging over us.
“North Star.” Carson pointed. I made out the Big Dipper and Little Dipper, along with other constellations.
“It never stops to amaze me that these are the same stars everywhere.” I braced against the onslaught of memories. My grandfather had been the first to show me constellations, and later, my father on rare camping trips, and various Scout and 4-H leaders. I’d seen many a sky, but something about Southwest Colorado was special. “Used to make me homesick on deployment.”
“Me too.” Carson’s tone was equally wistful. “Nothing like Colorado.”
He gestured around us, a sweeping movement that brought him closer to my side, our arms brushing.
“Yeah. Can’t imagine living anywhere else.” I inhaled more of his ocean-like scent. Damn. I needed a distraction and quick. “What was your favorite duty station?”
“Virginia wasn’t bad.” Carson used an offhand tone. “But it’s not Colorado.”
“I feel that.” Homesickness had been a major reason why I’d processed out as soon as I was able to go on ready reserve and use my education benefits.
“At first…hated being back.” Carson shifted, rolling to one side. His expression was deeply thoughtful, as mysterious as the universes the stars could only hint at. “But right now…it’s good.”
“I’m glad.” And I was. Glad we were here. Glad I’d reached out, glad for this growing friendship, glad he’d found some measure of peace and happiness post-discharge. I wanted him to love being home for reasons best not considered right now.
I held his gaze, powerless to look away. The energy between us crackled, a cosmic event in its own right. A meteor could have landed next to the truck, and my attention wouldn’t have wavered from Carson. The slightest roll of my own, and we’d be face-to-face. A small arm stretch, and we’d be touching.
He didn’t move away, and his eyes never left mine.
Carson could park a literal tank, and like all transportation corps soldiers, he likely had legendary spatial awareness. He knew exactly how close we were, yet he stayed put. Statistics probability equations I hadn’t used since college crowded my brain as I calculated the chances he might welcome a move.
I’d seldom had so much riding on being right.
Carson was the best potential friend I’d had in years. Did I really want to risk our growing friendship? A vision of my solitary kitchen flashed before my eyes, a reminder of the loneliness that awaited me if I were wrong.
Even so, I wanted with the force of a solar storm. The heat represented by each tiny star above had nothing on the heat coursing through me. Maybe—
“Should get back.” Abruptly, Carson sat up. The moment that had stretched on and on disappeared into a black hole of nothingness. Had he given up on waiting for me? Had I done the right thing in resisting the pull between us?
I had no clue. Not a one. I hoisted myself up to sitting, rubbing at my bleary eyes.
“Yeah, let’s get you back to the ranch.” And me back to my silent home. The loneliness I’d sought to avoid threatened to swamp me anyway. The only consolation I had was that at least I hadn’t lost a friend over a single impulsive action.
But oh, how I wanted.
Chapter Nine
Carson
August rolled on, hot and dry and with entirely too much time for me to replay stargazing with Jude. This sunny morning, I was alone in the arena with a stubborn Cinder and lingering memories of that moment between us. We’d almost…something. Not sure exactly what, which was part of why my thoughts kept circling back to Jude. The want in his eyes had been clear enough, but so was whatever internal debate he was having.