penance. a love story (The Böhme Series) (34 page)

Around ten we finally made it to our hotel. We should have made it there sooner, but we decided to stop at several gas stations for photos. I think Wynn knew I wanted to avoid my thoughts, so he created a game for us in stopping at every gas station or rest stop to take a photo of our trip.

The first place we stopped, I asked him to take a photo of me and without a thought he grabbed his camera and we walked around, investigating the old station. The photos were eerie when I looked at them on his camera. Though it was dark out, he used the ambient light from the gas station that gave the image reality. The first one he took of me made my breath hitch. My eyes were looking to the right of the frame as I sat on a parking block in front of an old ice box. I don’t know how he did it, but I read my feelings and thoughts in that photo. The fear and sadness weighed on my shoulders, but my eyes looked different than when I looked in the mirror. Though they didn't look at the camera, the joy in them was obvious.

He managed to capture different sides of me in each photo as we progressed. The more places we stopped at, the more amazing the photos got. He was cataloging every expression of mine in photos. He said he wanted to have a book of “
Hannah’s Expressions
” because they were never ending and they were proof that I could never win at poker.

At the last gas station I smiled up at him and took the camera from him. “Can I take one of you?”

He smiled and handed over his most prized possession. He stepped toward the side of the station and leaned his right shoulder against the wall. Crossing his arms he looked toward me. He had taken his hoodie off and rolled his flannel’s sleeves to the elbow, exposing his tattoos across his forearms.

I lifted the camera to my eye, and I enjoyed being able to examine him through the viewfinder, unhindered. I was thankful he had the camera set for me because I lacked the knowledge to change the ISO or aperture to the right setting. I snapped one photo and looked at the screen. It was good, but I wanted to get lower, so I sat on my knees to take a few more photos. His eyes tracked my every movement and never looked away from the camera. After several photos I looked at the screen and smiled. He held lightness in his eyes and determination on his face. Heat traced my neck and into my cheeks as I couldn't take my eyes from that photo. I had my back to him and didn’t know he left the wall and approached me.

He stood behind me and rested his chin on my shoulder to see the image as well. He leaned in to press his nose into my hair. His hands wrapped around my upper arms as the intensity from him transferred to me. I closed my eyes as I leaned back into him. “You're amazing, Wynn,” I whispered.

He gave a
quiet laugh behind me. “Hardly.” He took the camera from me and looked closer at the photo, but kept one arm wrapped around my chest, holding the opposite shoulder. “Anything amazing in this photo is all you, Hannah. If anyone else were taking that photo, it would have looked different,” he said and then he kissed the back of my head and said nothing more of it as he released my shoulder.

Our motel room was interesting. The motel itself looked right from the 1950s. The room left untouched, still contained turquoise and brown decor from that time. There was a kitchenette with a bright orange counter top in one corner. I breathed in and felt years of cigarette smoke and cleaning products invade my lungs.

“This place is fantastic,” I said as I lay back on the bed and watched Wynn walk around the room. He set the bag on the dresser and ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back. He looked over at me and smiled.

“I like the open layout
.” He gave me a crooked smile as he pulled his camera from his bag. He came over to me on the bed and lifted the camera up to change settings on it. He snapped a photo of me lying on the bed and smiled when he looked at the image. “I like the color of the blanket too. It enhances your coloring beautifully,” he said as he handed the camera to me.

I looked at the image. My hair cascaded around me and the color of my hair against the turquoise blanket was hypnotizing. The color did bring out the darker shades of blue in my eyes, making them look as if they glowed. It wasn't only the color. I had a light smile on my face and my eyes looked brighter because of it. I wasn't focusing on the photo of me he was taking, but my eyes drew only to him. He brought the light from me.

“You know I can say the same thing to you as you did me earlier,” I said as he lifted his eyebrow in question. “This photo is because of you. That expression on my face is all yours.”

I rolled onto my side and propped my head with my arm as he lay back next to me. I set the camera above his head and took in his profile as he looked at the ceiling. “Thank you for this, Wynn.”

He turned to face me and ran his hand through my hair and over my shoulder. “Thank you for asking me, Hannah.”

“Tomorrow you get to meet the bane of my existence
,” I stated flatly and brought a laugh from him, but his expression softened.

“Hey, I’m going to be there with you and nothing is
going to happen. I won’t let it,” he said with such surety, I believed him. He wasn’t going to let anything happen. I was an adult now and my dad couldn’t hurt me. I hadn’t lived at home since I was nineteen. The last two years I had lived with Maggie and her family, but I still felt like I was breaking a rule by being here with Wynn. It was as if the closer I got to home, the younger I felt.

“What are you thinking, Hannah?”
he asked.

I looked at the wall above his shoulder, unable to meet his eyes
. “I’m trying to figure out what they plan to tell me tomorrow and I’m thinking about my sister.”

He lifted his hand and with a gentle touch turned my chin to f
ace him. “It’s going to be okay,” he reiterated. “You want to know what I have planned in the morning?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes, please do tell
,” I said with my own smile. I had smiled so much today, it felt like my face would be fixed in one forever if my muscles didn't get a chance to relax.

“Well, I’m an old farmhouse, abandoned build
ing geek, if you couldn’t tell.” He gave me a coy grin. “There has always been this one house out here on the way to this ghost town and I never stop at it. I have always wanted to, but never did. I want to go there for the first time with you.” He raised an eyebrow at me with a shy smile.

He stood from the bed
and his shoulders tensed as he looked in our bag as if he was unsure of himself. “Now don’t think me crazy, please,” he said as he turned around, “but I picked this out for you to wear for photos tomorrow.” He lifted up a tank top I forgot I had. It was white with knit eyelet parts across the top and bottom of it.

I smiled at him
. “Wynn Hawthorne did you go through my closet?” I laughed.

“
Actually no, it was lying on the floor next to your bed. I’m sorry, I should have asked, but saw it on top of that pile and I imagined you in it and I couldn’t breathe just thinking of it, so I decided the photos were a good excuse to get you to wear it.” He looked away with a laugh. “I felt nuts when I grabbed it.”

"It’s creepy, I should call Maggie
,” I said with sarcasm. I laughed and rolled over onto my back and kicked my leg up in the air as I raised myself into a seated position.

He stepped toward me and set the tank top on the bedside table. He sat on his knees in front of me and ran his hands along my thighs. His hands moved up farther and then he grabbed onto my waist. He pulled me closer towards the edge of the bed, closer to him. He kept a smile on his face as he looked up into my eyes and lifted his left hand to push my hair behind my ear. I lifted my own hands and put them on either side of his face.

I wanted nothing more than to kiss this man. We had given chaste kisses and light kisses that had so much held in them, but I wanted to taste him and know him. He lifted his hooded, sexy eyes, and I loved it because looking at me that way was natural to him. This was him and he wasn’t trying to play a game with me, he was laying himself bare for me to see. It was the most naked I had ever seen another human being.

He traced his hands up my arms then
down to my hands resting against his face and kissed my knuckles before resting them in my lap. He returned his hands to my thighs and ran them up my body until he now held my face as I just had held his. He leaned in and my heart started to race in anticipation. I had sex with several men, I had kissed before and I had even had a relationship, but I never felt as I was feeling right now. I felt every thrum of my heart against my chest and it felt as if it was going to burst from my ears the room was so quiet.

He was going to kiss me and the thought of his lips touching mine was too much and I closed my eyes on a deep breath. When I let them open a smile formed across his face as he watched my r
eaction to him. “I love that,” he said and paused inches in front of me. “I affect you and it baffles me and I love it.” He looked at me in awe and pushed my hair back behind my ears again and left his hands resting on either ear. “I don’t understand it.”

I clenched his forearms
. “Because you’re exceptionally epic,” I said. Then he dropped his hands and gave a light laugh. “What did I say?” I asked.

“No, it's not you, that’s the best compliment. It’s just funny because Blake mocked me for us
ing the same word earlier today.” He laughed.

“Hmm, great minds think alike, I guess
.” I gave him a flirtatious smile. “Now, are you going to kiss me,
yet
?"

He leaned back onto his
knees and shook his head. “Nope.” He held a mischievous expression at the popping of the
P
in nope and lifted an eyebrow at me. “I have a plan for that.”

I dropped my jaw in shock
. “What? Why can’t you just flipping kiss me?”

He chuckled. I watched as his expression grew serious
. “I don’t want to kiss you until you know your own strength again. I don’t want you to feel guilt with me. I cherish and respect you. And I don’t want there to be a question in your mind as to whether you should be kissing me. I want you to have
zero guilt
about it.”

I leaned back onto my elbows on the bed and stared at him. My first instinct was to be pissed. He didn’t know what was going on inside my head. I knew he cared. How could he know what was going on in my head?

I realized he did. Above everyone else, he knew my thoughts and why I did what I did. He discovered my truth in a few weeks of knowing me. He saw me as important and valued, but I didn’t see myself that way. He wanted that for
me
before we moved forward with
us
. I had to accept myself before I could share myself with him. He didn’t want to take a portion of me, like I had allowed men before to do. He saw and understood that I had been giving myself to strangers to lose myself and he didn’t want me to be lost in him.

I did want to see myself as important— and not just for our kiss. I needed to see the value in myself for my own sanity. He was the first person to ever acknowledge that in me and it made me want to kiss him more. But he was right. If I kissed him now, tonight, it would be to escape from the fear of tomorrow. I couldn't run away, I had to face it.

I raised myself from the bed and wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging to him. “Thank you,” I said as he began to run his hands down my back.

“You are most welcome, Hannah Anderson.”

The next morning I woke to sunlight streaming in through brown curtains. I could see tears in them that I hadn’t noticed the night before and the little holes created dots of light across the stained brown carpet. I counted the drops of light as I listened to Wynn’s breathing behind me.

Wynn was the first man to sleep with me. The realization brought a comfortable smile to my face. Even when I dated my One during high school, I never slept like this. I discovered there was something eternal found in the moments of sleeping with someone.

His arm draped across my waist and I traced my fingers around his wrist as I played with the dark hairs that decorated it. I twisted the leather band as I examined it. It
held engraved pictures that were Native American in design. I traced along them, enjoying the texture of the soft leather in contrast to the cut out images.

“That’s the only thing I have of my family’s other than old photos. Well, my family
before
my mom,” he said and I hadn’t even realized he was awake as he lifted his hand up and rolled to his back, lowering his wrist to his face as he twisted the cuff.

I rolled toward him and rested my head on his shoulder. He pulled me in closer and I saw on his face that he was trying to decide how much he was willing to sha
re. “It was my grandfather’s,” he said as he started to remove it from his wrist. “And according to my mom, it was first his grandfather’s.”

I lifted it from his hand and looked inside and saw the initials E.D.H. engraved with the date o
f April 6. “Wow, that’s amazing,” I said as he wore a serene expression as he kept his thoughts to himself. “Did you ever meet your grandpa?” I asked.

He pulled his lips in upon each other and shook his head
. “No, he died before my time. So did my grandmother. It was a car accident when my mother was thirteen or fourteen. That was the extent of what she shared on them,” he said and his thoughts drifted off to somewhere else.