Noel

As winter fades into spring, the snow melts. The grass turns green and buttercups sprout from the damp earth. At first, it feels slow. You see these flashes of green or hear the birds chirping in the morning. Then, all at once, spring arrives. Tulips and an assortment of flowers poke through the dirt, accompanied by green grass. Leaves return to the trees. And the sun feels warm on your face.

The brutal despair of winter withers from your bones, and you look forward to the oncoming summer. To the correlation between country music and the farm and sunshine. Those mornings where you wake at dawn and watch the sun rise over the fields of wheat while the roosters pierce the silence.

That's what love is like.

You see the signs. You experience them.

The first time you catch yourself staring. Or when they touch your hand and you feel an electric shock. Jokes are exchanged. Memories are made. You kiss with passion and tell secrets only the night sky knows about.

Then, with no warning, you're looking at the masterpiece. It's an intricate design of different components. Happiness, longing, lust, passion. Melancholy and pain. Regrets and wishes.

Each aspect is woven into life so precariously, it almost breaks your heart. But it also heals the damage the past has done.

When you learn to love yourself, imperfections and all, you're granted to opportunity to share that love with another person.

That's how I felt when Kinsley and I reunited.

Although I needed counselling, time felt incomplete without her. When I saw her sitting at the booth, sipping her strawberry milkshake, I knew.

Seeing her made me feel like I was home.

Which is exactly why I haven't left the bed yet. There are lots of chores that need to be done, but all I want to do is lay beside Kinsley. Watch as her chest rises and falls in harmony with her soft breaths. Her loose blonde curls are splayed across the crisp white pillow and the sheets are tucked beneath her arm, giving me a view of her bare shoulders and slender neck. The shadows of her chest. I tighten my arm around her waist, keeping her body close to mine. My hand rests against the scars on her lower back.

The texture is uneven, but soft, and it doesn't trigger any effects of post-traumatic stress disorder. Nor do I feel any sadness or guilt. Instead, I feel sympathy for both of us.

Kinsley stirs in her sleep, nestling closer to me. The sheets loosen around her upper body, enhancing the skin-on-skin contact. Her breasts are pressed against my chest and our legs are tangled beneath the sheets.

Yeah, the chores can wait.

Although I'm wide awake, I close my eyes and focus on the rhythm of her breathing. After today's chores are complete, I'm taking Kinsley on the date we should've had. We're giving horseback riding another shot. Once we arrive at the lake, we'll spend the day there. Neither of us has been to the lake yet.

At least during the summer. Skating on it over the winter with Daisy, Cole, and Willow felt different. With the summer heat and the sun shining down, things'll be very similar to when everything fell apart. That one moment before everything got worse before becoming better.

Kinsley stirs again, rubbing her cheek against my shoulder. I watch as her lashes flutter. Then I see the stunning blue of her eyes. She greets me with a lazy smile as she stretches, her body pressing against mine. Her arms wrap around my neck, and there's a soft smile on her lips.

"Morning."

"Morning," I reply.

Her voice is raspy and her expression is still laced with the lazy effects of sleep. I smile down at her, giving her a moment to shake the remnants of sleep off.

Several seconds later, I kiss Kinsley's nose, grinning at her. "Are you ready for today?"

She nods. "Yes. It's the date we should've had, Noel."

While her voice is strong and confident, her face tells a different story. Whenever Kinsley is stressed, she'll chew on her bottom lip. Which is what she's doing right now. And I can't help but relate to the stress. There's a small pit of anxiety in my stomach. The spot by the lake holds a lot of memory, and despite everything that's happened, hearing Kinsley tell her story was the hardest part of my life. I can still hear the echo of raw pain in her voice. Hear her stumbling over her words and choking on tears. Just like I can remember how guilty I felt. The way my heart broke into a million pieces.

I can remember everything, but my emotions and perception have evolved.

My reaction was justified. At that point, I hadn't dealt with my trauma. Not in the way Kinsley had. That was the difference between us. She was willing to talk and heal—even if she had difficulty starting the conversation. I suppressed everything, telling myself it was better to forget. Which also made me a hypocrite because I wasn't taking proper care of myself. The past was still haunting me, no matter how much I wanted to let go.

And that's when I learned that letting go of the past is a fallacy. We're supposed to learn from our lessons. If you let go of the past without proper resolution, it will haunt you in every decision you make. Every notable event that happens. Not dealing with the past forced me into a situation I felt hopeless in. After Kinsley told me about her family, I fell to my lowest point. The fight back to the top has been difficult, but I would do it repeatedly to get here.

This mindset where chains imbedded by my father no longer hold me back. A place where Gramps is clean. Cole is with Daisy and Willow. And Kinsley and I, as individuals, are whole again and ready to love each other.

But healing sometimes can't eradicate the memories. I'll admit, I'm nervous about returning to the lake, too.

I run my thumb along her bottom lip. "What's bothering you?"

Although I already know the answer, it's my duty to ask her. I'll never put words in her mouth or assume how she's feeling. Where I lacked in self-awareness, I'm trying to make up for that; I want to be open-minded and optimistic.

Kinsley's hand traces the tattoos on my ribcage. The birch tree and the six birds. The birch tree that represents rebirth, new beginnings, and growth. The birds that represent each person we lost. Kinsley's parents, Madeline, Aaron, Jessa, and my dad. Although my dad is still alive, in jail for the rest of his life, he was a victim of addiction.

I'll never forgive him for the trauma he inflicted upon me. Forgiving and forgetting is another fallacy. Some people don't deserve your forgiveness. What I will acknowledge is how the mental illness took him away from me. He had the potential to be a great father, as per some of my earlier memories.

His bird is a representation of that. The early memories we share, and the man I lost to addiction—to mental illness.

Her thumb grazes a silvery scar covered by birch branches, sending shivers down my spine. How the universe brought us together on campus will forever puzzle me. During my therapy sessions with Dr. Munson, thinking about Kinsley and I felt like a cruel joke. Did the world bring us together to drive the knife deeper? Or for comedic relief?

Now, I know that's not the case. Meeting Kinsley was the drive I needed to remedy myself. Kinsley needed me to conquer the last hurdle. Without her timidness and hard shell, Kinsley is a force to be reckoned with. She burns golden, like the colour of wheat during sunset.

Cole and Daisy needed us. Cole needed a reminder that it's okay to focus on yourself first. Daisy needed aid in telling Cole the truth about Willow. And they needed help in admitting they're still in love with each other.

And Gramps needed us all to become sober.

Every aspect of what happened, no matter the pain and struggle, has aided each of us.

"Today seems... different," Kinsley says. There's a small crease between her brows. "I'm nervous about returning to the lake. Lots of bad things happened that day."

I open my mouth, prepared to apologize. Running off like I did was cruel. I left her behind without an explanation.

Her frown fades as she presses a finger to my lips. "Don't apologize, Noel. We promised each other we'd stop, remember?"

I nip her finger, flicking the tip with my tongue before letting go. "You're right. We made a promise."

Exhaling, I sit up and run a hand through my hair. It's messy and smells like hay. My gaze surveys the room. For the first half of summer, Kinsley and I redid the main bedroom and the ensuite. The floorboards are a rustic grey, paired with white walls and furniture. The bedding is white, with pops of colour from the dark-green pillows and knitted throw blanket. Doing renovations together was fun, and I'm happy with how our bedroom turned out. Now that Gramps is in the basement suite, Kinsley and I have slowly been renovating the house. The kitchen was first, then our bedroom and ensuite. Next is the living room.

However, there's been an intense emphasis on slowly.

I chuckle to myself.

Clothes are spread across the floor. Her bra brackets a pair of weathered cowboy boots. My jeans are pooled in the far corner, stained with mud and white paint. There's a pair of overalls and a red T-shirt draped across the nesting chair in the corner. A pair of tan Timberland boots near the doorway. My T-shirt hangs from the door handle.

A breeze ruffles the white curtains, bringing in the smell of hay and sunshine. These days have been warmer than usual, breaking the twenty degree mark, making it warm for May. When I look out the window, I see the acres of field and hills, and the lake beyond.

"It's normal to be afraid," I say, keeping my gaze locked on the view. "We went through a lot that day, Kins."

Kinsley's hand finds mine, and she threads our fingers together.

"What matters is us facing it together," I continue, squeezing her hand. "We have the right tools now. At least... both of us do."

A pinch of sadness pierces my heart. Despite all the therapy and healing, I still feel bad for leaving her behind that day. Had I accepted help or listened to Cole and Gramps about getting help, that day would've ended with a different series of events. But that doesn't mean it would've prevented a similar outcome from occurring. The truth would've come out.

I'm thankful Kinsley and I could weather the storm together—even when we were apart.

She squeezes my hand and sits up. The sheets fall from her body, letting the rays of sunlight pattern her pale skin. She shuffles closer to me, resting her head against my shoulder.

"Lots of good things happened, too," she says. "That's why I'm not scared. Just nervous. Happiness and sadness are so intricate I don't think you can feel one without the other being present. When I was talking to you, I was..."

Kinsley trails off and shakes her head. "This doesn't feel right. We should talk about it while we're there. It'll help with healing up the final scratches."

"Why the reference?" I ask.

She peers up at me through her lashes. "Losing my family felt like a bullet wound. And when that healed, it felt like shrapnel was still lodged inside my heart. Then we..." She shakes her head. "We should wait."

I dip my head down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Then we'll wait for our date. Which we should start getting ready for. If you feed the chickens and horses, I'll get the sprinklers going in the pasture. That way, we can be ready to go sooner."

"Sounds good," she nods.

Just as I'm pushing the sheets away, Kinsley presses her palm to my chest, applying enough pressure to force me onto my back. The mattress dips beneath my weight, and my head hits the pillow. She locks herself around my thighs. Then she's pinning my hands above my head and leaning down. "There's something we need to do first."

Her lips tease mine and her breath is hot against my mouth.

"What might that be?" I tease. My voice is breathless, body already writhing with anticipation. With each second that passes, my body becomes more reactive. I'm sure she can feel it.

Kinsley kisses me, drawing my bottom lip between her teeth and giving it a tug. "You know what."

"Of course I do," I laugh. "It's why our renovations have been slow. Remember the disaster with the paint?" My gaze flicks to my crumpled jeans on the floor. "I think those are the jeans I wore. The same ones you tore off so you could—"

Her cheeks flush pink. "Shut up, Noel."

"The only way that's possible, Kins, is if your lips are on mine."

Smiling, she rolls her eyes. "Well, if that's what you want..."

And it's exactly what she does.

* * *

The horses are grazing in the field surrounding the lake. A light breeze has picked up, smelling of hay, wild lilacs, and coconut sunscreen. Leaves of surrounding trees rustle, and the sky above is blue for kilometres. The relentless sun beats down upon us. Water laps against the shore, kissing the smooth rock surface Kinsley and I are sitting on. Our pants are rolled up, allowing us to submerge our feet in the cold water.

She's wearing the same outfit she was yesterday: overalls and a red T-shirt. There's a ball cap atop her head, shielding her face from the sun. Her hair flows freely down her back.

"When I look back," she says. "That moment... when I told you everything... it feels like a scratch. Losing my family was a bullet wound to the heart. I found out they'd died the first time I woke up. After that, I had some complications post-surgery. Next time I woke up, the initial shock was gone. It felt like shrapnel was lodged in my heart, making the ache even worse whenever I found out new information. Then that's what it became: a constant ache."

She looks at me, her blue eyes filled with hope.

"When I told you everything, sadness drove me to that split second of happiness. You know I was horrible at initiating the conversation. When I felt the courage to tell you, I was overwhelmed with joy. Telling Cole was an anomaly. He caught me in a moment of weakness, and my mind was vulnerable. Knowing I was about to tell you because I wanted to made me so happy. It was a sign I was getting better at this. That I could open my heart to the world again. And even if watching you run and everything that followed was painful, it was just a scratch. Because it's what I needed to complete the healing. It was the first time something horrible led to something better. If that makes any sense."

A single tear slips down her cheek. I wipe it away with my thumb and tighten my arm around her waist.

"It makes perfect sense," I whisper. "Wounds heal. Some faster than others. I-I think you're right, Kins. I see where you're coming from. For me, it felt more like the catalyst, though. It forced me to face the past and my problems." I look at her. "Thank you for trusting me. For making me realize I was living my life the wrong way. For..."

"Falling in love with you?" she jokes.

"That, too," I smile. "You made me feel worth it. During therapy, you were a driving factor, but not the sole one. Dr. Munson made me see how badly I was treating myself, and how it can lead to deflective behaviour. Ignorance was my best friend. It's why I ran when I heard the truth. Why there was so much stress resting on my shoulders. When you told me about the accident, my blood ran cold. At first, I thought Cole put you up to this. As you know, Cole played a big part in the court case. He was my support, as he always has been. Ever since my dad won the court case against Mom, I... I've been a mess. Everything was so muddled. I don't know how the judge could overrule her. She was the one who took care of me, but Dad used the excuse of parent alienation. He claimed Mom was turning me against him and all that shit."

"Are you mad at your mom?" Kinsley asks.

I sigh. Mom was a focal point in therapy. Of course, I was mad at her. She left me with an abusive father. But that's not her fault. The court systems in Canada are faulty, and if she stepped out of line, she was at risk of being condemned. The judge never took my perspective into account, despite almost being an adult. Mom and I were victims. Dad winning custody was the cause was the first major event that led to my downfall.

"I wish she would come back," I admit, rubbing my palms together. "She tried to comfort me within the first year, Kins, but my dad kept threatening to call the police. He framed her as the villain because he always needs to win. It's his way or the highway. She saw that and knew she didn't have a chance at protecting me without suffering from abuse of him or the court system. So, no, I'm not mad at her anymore. Now that I understand things better. She was forced into a terrible situation. Lots of moms are, and it disgusts me. But getting back to my point, ever since then, Cole knew there was something off about me. He would push me to talk, but I'd continue to shut him down. I thought maybe he'd briefed you on the accident and told you to play the part. That lasted for a fraction of a second. The scars... the raw pain in your voice... Kins..."

I clear my throat.

"It terrified me. My body went into panic mode, and I needed Cole to reassure me. To convince me this wasn't real. I don't know how else to explain it. Panic was all I could feel. The sadness and regret didn't come until I woke up in the hospital. All I wanted to do was talk to you. To apologize ad beg for your forgiveness. I'm glad they didn't let me. It would've made things worse. We needed time apart."

My gaze sweeps over the view again.

"Being here makes me feel proud of myself. Of you. Of us. We're creating a fresh memory to override, but not forget, the old one. This is our life, Kins. We're no longer being controlled by external factors. These events... they forced us to feel and experience things we never asked for. These things will happen, just hopefully never to that extreme again. If they do, we know how to handle the aftermath."

Another tear slips down her cheek as she smiles. "I couldn't agree more."

With no words left to say, I pull Kinsley against my chest, resting my chin atop her head. She locks her arms around my torso. And we sit like this for several minutes, staring at the view and embracing the peace.

"I love you, Noel," Kinsley says.

My lips contact her forehead. "I love you, too, Kinsley."

A few more seconds of silence pass, then Kinsley straightens her posture. "What did you have planned for our date? The original one?"

I smile. "A picnic and swimming. I thought I'd play some songs on my guitar, too."

She glances over her shoulder, to where my backpack and guitar are. "You're playing some songs for me—no arguments there, got it?"

I'll take any chance I can to play the guitar for her. She loves when I cover anything by Taylor Swift, Tenille Townes, or Tenille Arts. My voice isn't as harmonious as these amazing ladies, but Kinsley always has a good time. I'm still too scared to play her any of the songs I've written.

"Fair enough," I laugh.

"We should go swimming first." She lifts her bare feet, and I watch the water drip from them. The droplets sparkle in the sunlight. "Then eat. Then you can play me some songs. And maybe some songs you've written?"

I ignore the latter question, pushing her away. "Last one in the water doesn't get any lemonade."

Kinsley's mouth drops open as I unbuckle my belt, but she's quick to follow. Soon, our clothes are being strewn across the rock face. At one point, I almost stumble into the water while removing my jeans. It causes Kinsley to burst out laughing, which gives me the advantage.

I'm in the water before her, the freezing temperature shocking my body.

Kinsley follows soon after, and her body is pressed against mine within seconds. Her arms are around my neck. Her legs are around my waist.

"F-fuck," she curses. "It's f-f-freezing."

I smile.

The water is fucking cold, but it doesn't eliminate the heat from Kinsley's body.

Or the happiness threatening to make my heart explode.

For good measure, I kiss her.

She doesn't hesitate, and all I can taste on her lips is the promise of our future together.