BLACKHOUSE [H.S.]

Forty-Three

"Cheers to us," I whisper. "And cheers to going into the new year together."

She rolls her lips into her mouth, biting back her smile as she clinks her glass with mine before taking a sip.

"It's beautiful up here," she hums, taking in her surroundings with wide eyes. "How did you find this place?"

I shrug my shoulders, reaching for the bluetooth speakers sitting next to the cooler, and putting on her favorite playlist - early two thousands, post-hardcore.

The music drifts through the speakers as I turn to face her, tucking my legs up against my chest.

"I was just driving around to clear my head one day, and happened across it," I explain. "Technically, we're not really supposed to be here."

Her eyes widen, and she lightly smacks my leg with the back of her hand, making me laugh. "What?!" She gasps.

"Yeah, I guess it's 'private property', or whatever," I mock the 'No Trespassing' signs posted along the road up to the clearing with air quotes. "It's New Years eve, no one is going to be up here."

She rolls her eyes at me, but I can see her fighting to hold back her smile. "You're unbelievable," she shakes her head. "If we get arrested I'm blaming you."

I smirk, nudging her knee with my black Converse. "Relax," I assure her. "We're not going to get arrested. If anything, we'll just get a ticket on our records, and have to pay a big fine."

She shoots me a glare, clicking her tongue in annoyance. "Harry!" She huffs, making me throw my head back with a laugh. I can tell she's trying not to, but eventually she gives in, laughing along with me. "You're such an asshole."

I reach over, wrapping my arm over her shoulders, and around her neck to pull her close. She squeals as she struggles against me, and I lean down until my lips brush against her cheek.

"Yeah, but I'm your asshole," I whisper in her ear.

She turns her head to look at me, her beautiful eyes meeting mine. My heart begins to race with her gaze on me, and I place my hand on her cheek, stroking her soft skin gently. She hums, leaning into my touch as her eyes flutter shut, and I take the opportunity to examine her features.

Her pink lips are full, the corners turned upward into a relaxed smile as the last few minutes of sun light reflect off of the single stud nestled in her Cupid's bow. Her dark brows frame her eyes, and although they're closed, I can picture her breathtaking irises; golden-brown, like the afternoon sun shining through a glass of whiskey. I have them memorized, branded into my brain like they're part of me now.

Like she's part of me now.

My breathing picks up, my skin that's in contact with hers tingling with electricity.

Fuck, I love her. She's everything; she's the reason to keep going, to keep living.

I wanted to tell her about Caroline for so long, but I was afraid; I didn't know how she would react.

Would she be jealous?

Would she think I had too much baggage?

Would she want someone more stable, more put together than me?

None of those fears came to fruition, though. She held me while I cried, sat with me as my grief consumed me. Even after all these years, losing Caroline feels as fresh as if it had happened yesterday, and Katie saw that. She understood that.

She's lost more people than I can even fathom, yet it made her stronger. It made her a better person.

Why on earth would she choose to be with someone who became the opposite due to their grief?