My mom barely acknowledged me when we arrived, and I was 100% okay with it. She fawned over Jake amid their blissful reunion. He murmured words to stifle the excitement but never pushed her away. He clung to her as much as she clutched him and even stooped down a bit, so it was easier for my mom to fluff out his shaggy hair.

"You are still so handsome," she cooed as we finally began to make our way inside. "I made all your favorites: lasagna, garlic bread, chocolate cake."

"You didn't have to," he mumbled sheepishly.

"Oh, she had to," my dad chimed in. "If she didn't focus her energy somewhere, she would have shot up to the moon by now." My mom slapped his shoulder playfully. "It's good to have you back, Jake. The lake hasn't been the same without you," he continued.

Jake responded with a nod but didn't say a word.

We ate in comfortable silence. Less because of lack of things to talk about and more because my mom had outdone herself with dinner.

"I bumped into Chad Benton at the market today," my mom began as she tossed down her napkin. "He mentioned he is having a few people over for a bonfire tonight if you two are interested."

My thirteen-year-old self flared in annoyance that my mom was ruining my movie plans with Jake.

"Thanks, Carol, but Nif and I were going to have an old-school movie night. We even picked up Twizzlers and Cherry Coke." As Jake spoke, he put an arm around my shoulders.

"Oh, how cute," my mom beamed. "Don't stay up too late," she scolded in a mocking tone.

"I'll help with the dishes first, though," I offered.

"That would be great, honey. We can give these two some time to catch up." My mom gave Jake a wink as we started to clear plates.

Jake and my dad settled on the porch, each with a beer, as my mom and I moved to the kitchen.

"It's so great having you both home," the warmth from my mom was bursting through her eyes like the midday sun. "So, are you two seeing a lot of each other?"

"A little, we have dinner every Thursday."

My mom's hands dropped heavily to the edge of the sink. "Are you two dating?"

"What? No, it's just dinner."

"Every Thursday?" My mom pressed.

I thought for a moment. "I don't think we are dating."

"You have a man taking you out to dinner every Thursday; I think that is dating."

"No, it's not like that. We are just reconnecting. Mostly we argue over the city. He tells me all the reasons it's great, and I remind him all the reasons why the lake is my home."

"You have dinner every Thursday, and he is trying to convince you to stay in the city?"

"He's not trying to convince me to stay, mom."

"Mmhmm," she murmured to herself as she returned to the dishes.

"Mom," I chided.

"I didn't say anything."

"Seriously, it's not like that. Don't get all..." I paused, "just don't get your hopes up."

My mom gave me a soft smile, "I'm just glad you got him back here."

"Which movie do you want to watch first?" Jake asked as he stretched out on the pullout with a Twizzler hanging from his mouth.

"The Princess Bride," I said confidently.

"As you wish," he murmured.

I threw the second half of my own Twizzler at him. He deftly caught it and shoved it into his mouth, just like when we were kids. As the movie started, I found myself curling into Jake's chest. It didn't feel elicit or vulgar to be in his arms; it felt safe and warm. The sweet smell of cherry licorice coursed over my face and tickled my nose.

"I wish we could do this every night like we did when we were kids," I whispered, almost to myself.

"As you wish," Jake murmured again.

I lifted my head so I could meet his gaze. "You know, in the movie, that means I love you."

"I know," he said as he stared deep into my eyes.

Things moved in slow motion in the moments that followed. He dipped his face closer to mine, his hair tickling my forehead before he brushed it aside. I sucked in a thick breath that was filled with the sweet cherry scent of candy. His fingers gripped my hips, pulling me closer to him. His dark brown eyes moved out of view as his face came closer. Then, just before his lips met mine, I closed my eyes. His lips were stiff and tentative at first but still caused me to melt further into him. My hands slipped to his chest and clung to the cotton of his shirt. The softening of my body encouraged him, and his lips began to dance with mine with more confidence.

As I pulled myself up closer to him, so we didn't have to stretch, he responded by tightening his grasp on me and moving me up his body. I could feel every ripple of his muscles, every intake of breath, every beat of his heart. Soon it wasn't just our lips tangling; we were merging into one in the tenderness of love and the hunger of need.

The side of my face stuck to his chest as I listened to his breath settle. His fingers danced softly up and down my spine. My mind flickered back to watching his fingers breeze across the keys of the piano. The memory felt like a lifetime ago.

"I love you," I whispered without lifting my head.

His chest stiffened as his hands found my face, cupping it and forcing me into his gaze.

"I have loved you every day since I was nine years old." It was an urgent admission that stabbed into me. I knew the moment would stay with me forever like a tattoo.

"Every day?" My voice cracked.

"Every moment, every breath since you slipped away from me from that damn treehouse." He pulled me to him for a burning kiss. "I made a promise to you that day, Nif. I promised that I would never let anything hurt you." He brushed a tendril of hair from my face. "I broke that promise. I'm sorry."

I gazed up at him. He had stolen more than my heart; he had stolen my words.

"Say something, Nifer." His eyes were wide with pleading.

"I've loved you since my first breath, and I will love you until my last." It was my turn to brush the hair from his face. "I don't need you to protect me. I just need you to be there when I hurt. That's what love is; being there when it is hard."

The summer slipped by in a tangle of each other and whirlwind tours of the city. It was filled with peaceful moments and loud memories as we rebuilt what we once had. But, like a wildfire, the wind can change at any moment.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Jake rested his chin on the top of my head as he gazed out over the water at the Statue of Liberty.

"Mmhmm," I murmured as I snuggled into him.

"In a couple more years, you'll be done with school, and we can come here every weekend." He spoke absently and overlooked my heart freeze at the moment.

"Jake..." but my words didn't want to come.

"Yeah," he said in a gentle unsuspecting voice.

"I want to go home after college. The lake is my home." I turned in his arms. "It's our home."

He gazed down at me, and, as quick as a flash of lightning, the sparkle in his eyes dulled. "That's not my home."

"Of course, it is."

"Nifer, that lake is not my home. There is nothing there for me."

"I'm there, my parents, your mom."

"My mom is dead, Nif. She died there." His arms dropped from me.

"She's still there," my voice filled with argument. "She's in the warm breezes and the dancing flutter of the leaves. She's in the fireflies that glow in the night and the reflection of the stars on the smooth lake. She's there. You can't ignore her."

He looked at me for a long moment, warring with himself. "None of that is real. My mom's dead." And as though no time had passed at all, he added, "she died alone."

The tears welled in my eyes; I saw them in the reflection from the glossy blank eyes of Jake.

"This is my home, this city, this life." He pushed off from the railing, adding another foot between us.

"But the lake; that's where..."

"That's where my mom died. That's all that place is to me."

"Jake..." I could feel him slipping away.

"I thought you understood. I thought... This is my life. I don't want to go back to my past."

"But I'm your past."

"Maybe we should leave each other there."

"But love is being there in the hard times."

"Maybe love is making good times. Maybe love isn't hard; maybe it's easy and comfortable."

Another step, he took another step away from me. It may as well have been a thousand miles. I was his past. I was the memories he was trying to forget. The life from which he was running.