Epilogue

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*Lokela

The light was sucked from the street the second he rounded the corner and the house came into view. Ray stood at the curb, her bags at her feet, arms crossed, all the sunshine radiating around her alone. He stopped running, his breath tearing ragged holes in his lungs. What the hell would she think if she saw him like this? Weak and out of control? Desperate to talk to her one last time before she was gone?

He strode slowly, willing his chest to stop heaving and his heart to slow. But that was worse. Without the adrenaline forcing him to run faster, the cage compressing his chest was back.

At the scuffle of his feet, she glanced up. Frowning in confusion, she waggled a finger no. "What are you doing here? We talked this morning."

"Ray, I—" He couldn't continue. He couldn't talk, he couldn't breathe, and he couldn't fucking say goodbye.

"Lokela, you are a complete and total wreck."

"I know," he gasped. "I'm sorry, I—"

She lunged forward, dashing into his arm. He lifted her in a whirling circle. She smelled wonderful, sweet like cotton candy and strawberries. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, loving the swell of her breasts on his chest, and her arms around his neck.

"I'll only be gone for three months," she said. "And why did you run here? You are all sweaty."

He hugged her tighter as she laughed and tried to slip free. "One of my cousins took my bike for a sandwich run without telling me, and Miller walked to the shop this morning. I had to see you again."

"So...who's at the shop?"

"You'll never guess."

"Trevor and he's wearing a shirt!" she cried.

"All right, so you guessed. He's not nearly as bad as I thought he would be. The ladies like him almost as much as they like Miller."

"Well, I know who my favorite sales assistant is, and I'm glad that by hiring Trevor, you cleared up your schedule for the creative writing summer course. It will be good for your soul and your ego. Naia told me the professor particularly delights in ripping budding writers to confetti because if they don't cry in the first three days, she's not getting through to their deepest emotions."

"How interesting, I think I'll be canceling, now," he said.

"Don't you dare. And next fall, you can be my coach in my intro to Hawaiian language. Your life no longer entirely revolves around making money and taking business class exams."

"It revolves around you," he said.

She shook her head at him. "No, it revolves around words and poetry, stories and stars. You'll even have time for the sun and the sea again."

"Like I said...." He wrapped her in a hug again, hating that he'd have to wait three months to see her in person. Words and poetry, stories and stars, the sun and the sea—that was his Ray.

"You know," she whispered. "Naia's running ten minutes late to pick me up for the airport, which in Naia speak that means we have at least fifteen minutes together."

He was reborn with strength, energy, and breath to spare. His Ray wanted him, he would answer the call.

She worried her lower lip with her teeth. "Are you sure you don't mind me using you for quick sex against the wall?"

He dragged her inside to the empty, spare room and pushed her to the wall. Holding her hands pressed to the cool wood above her head, he ground his growing erection in her pelvis. "I swear it, one of these days, you'll kill me with your questions."

THE END

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