The house was quiet and empty, as usual. Mom wouldn’t be off work until five. My glorious stepdad – insert heavy sarcasm here – would be home late as usual. Not until after seven. I had the house to myself for a couple of hours until mom came in the door with my little sister, Leah, around six.

I tossed my backpack in my room and flopped down on my cherry striped bedspread. A gentle rumble filled the air as my cat Felix, a Calico, wrapped his furry body around my legs.

“Hi Fee, Fee,” I greeted him, picking his fat body up and nuzzling him against my cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

He purred loudly in response, “I had an interesting one too. You boys are so exasperating.”

I set him down and headed downstairs, sliding the glass door shut behind me. This was my favorite spot, my big backyard. As a child, when my dad was still alive, he built a huge wooden treehouse in the large California redwood trees that bordered our property. Even now I still go there in the afternoons, surrounded by my magazines and favorite drawings from childhood. It was a happy place. Serene and innocent. Memories of my father and his gentle kindness seeped into the wood and took over. It was an unspoken rule that no one followed me here. Not even my mother, or especially her new husband.

I climbed up the wooden boards toward the top and opened the trap door. Slipping inside, I shut it with a small click. Inhaling, it was almost as if my father’s essence lived in this room and for just a moment I could still see his smiling face and smell his aftershave. Maybe that was why I came here, each day was a couple of seconds of nostalgic memory, and I clung to those precious fleeting moments like a lifeline.

Spreading a blanket on the floor, I leaned back and pulled my cell phone out of my pocket, inserted the earbuds, cranked Halestorm and bobbed my head to Mayhem.

A small scraping sound awakened me a short time later as Peter’s head popped up through my floor. He smiled softly as he pulled himself through the gap to lay next to me, staring up at the ceiling.

“You know, I have always loved this treehouse,” he slipped his fingers through mine, and held tight.

“I know,” I whispered. Why did I whisper? “It’s like I can feel my dad Peter, every day like he never left me.” Tears sprang to my eyes, and I looked away.

He tilted my chin so I was stuck staring into his softened hazel gaze, “He didn’t leave Rae. Not like that.” Peter inhaled a deep breath and let it out before answering, “I remember how he looked at you, how he loved you. You were his precious baby girl.”

Peter was almost a year older than me, a senior, even though we were in many of the same classes. These were combined in our small school. I used to tease him about being smarter than he was, gloating that I received better grades than he did. For some reason, it seemed to really bother him. Now I had a feeling that it didn’t matter. He was like a brother to me back then, and my father doted on him, caring for him like he was his own son. It meant a lot to Peter. His father was always gone and never had the time for him.

“I know it wasn’t on purpose, but . . .” I sighed shakily. “I miss him, Pete.”

I rarely called him that. Not since we were little kids.

“I know. I miss him too,” his gaze darted to my lips and back up to my eyes. “Rae . . .” They lowered completely as he pressed his mouth softly to mine.

This kiss was entirely different than the feather caress at school. A passion I didn’t expect radiated from deep within him, coming off his body in thick waves. He leaned over and deepened the kiss as his arm snaked around my torso.

My thoughts scattered. I forgot everything but the way his lips felt pressed to mine. A slight moan sounded low in his throat as he pulled me closer against his solid frame, leaving me breathless when he leaned back.

“Peter,” I gasped.

He smiled, a deviant grin that made my knees weak, “You have the softest lips, Rae.”

He would know now, wouldn’t he?

I didn’t dare speak, afraid my voice would squeak. Instead, I stared deep into his eyes. For the first time I noticed the little flecks of green and gold that lingered inside his hazel irises.

“Damn,” he laughed lightly, “I want to kiss you again.”

He did. This time I couldn’t help my response as my fingers inched their way up and around his neck. Peter seemed surprised but kept his lips pressed to mine.

“Rae,” his breath was unsteady as it swept over us. “Say you’ll be mine.”

His warm lips trailed from my mouth, past my ear, to the delicate flesh of my neck, just below my earlobe.

“Peter . . .”

His hand rose as his fingers brushed across my cheek, his eyes holding mine steady, “Surely you know how much I care for you. It’s never been a secret Rae.”

I knew. In my heart I had known it all along, “I . . .”

How did I say the right thing? How did I tell him I was afraid? How did I describe the frantic beating of my heart and the butterflies gathered in my stomach that had consumed me since his first kiss earlier that day?

My eyes must have betrayed me.

“Are you afraid?” At my silence, he frowned, “Tell me what is bothering you?”

I shook my head. He would think I was being foolish.

“Talk to me, baby . . . please?” the pleading sensual huskiness of his voice melted my body into little squishy pieces like plops of jelly on the wooden floorboards.

“I’m afraid . . . that this will change our friendship . . . the way we work.”

I realized then that Peter and I worked together, fit like jagged puzzle pieces slipped together in perfection, and I didn’t want to mess that up. Our camaraderie and easy teasing banter kept things simple and uncomplicated. Did I want that to end? Was I ready for more?

His eyes softened, “We change constantly Rae, it’s a part of growing up. Neither of us is little kids anymore. We can’t change the inevitable.”

He was right. Peter would graduate this year and go into the military. It had been his dream since he was five years old. Next year I would be a senior. Life was creeping up on us. So little was left of the ease and freedom of youth.

“And the inevitable is that you’ll be graduating and leaving Pete.”

Leaving me. I hadn’t meant to imply it out loud, but I couldn’t stop my thoughts from going to that place. A place where my heart could get broken. A place that meant he could leave my life forever.

I couldn’t lose someone else I loved.

“Do you think I’ll leave here and never think of you again?” He shook his head, “Do you think I haven’t thought this through a thousand times Rae?”

I honestly didn’t know. What did he think? What did Peter want? His mind was a confusing and unknown place to me. Over the years I always thought he was a dreamer. Playful by nature and good-tempered, he was always one step ahead of me in that regard.

“Rae?”

I was forced to meet his stare, “I don’t know.”

He seemed frustrated, “You’re an important part of my life. Of course I’ve considered it.”

I was confused. What were we talking about exactly? His decision to join the military? His leaving town? Or what?

“Stay with me, baby.”

I wanted to, really, I did. But I still had no idea what he was confessing or what his motivations were. “What do you want Peter?” I asked, unable to discern the truth.

He groaned, “You really have no idea, do you?”

I blushed. Looking away, I let my hands drop to my sides.

Peter stood up and began to pace the small room, making him seem like a wild and caged animal with his long dark hair falling in his eyes, the tattoos on his arms, and his sexy swagger, “How could you have missed it?” It was a rhetorical question and I remained silent. “All this time, all these months in class, I thought you were flirting with me.”

My eyes widened in surprise, “Why?”

He stopped mid-stride and pulled me to my feet, his palms resting flat against my cheeks, “Because I love you, Rae. I’ve loved you since we were ten years old. How could you not see that?”

Shock played out on my features, “You . . . you love me?” I sounded so stupid. Surely he would laugh, but he didn’t.

Was he serious?

“Yes Rae,” he lowered his lips to mine, almost touching. “I love you.” With his hands still on my face, he kissed me.

Gentle. Loving. Soft.

His arms wrapped around me like a cocoon and hugged my body close against his hard frame, “Tell me you feel something for me Rae, anything at all?” he laughed a little nervously.

I lay my head against his chest, “You know I do.”

His heart was racing. The pounding rhythm thrummed beneath my ear like the consistent beat of a drum, “Rae, baby, say you’ll be mine.”

Fear clenched in my belly. Fear of the unknown and losing my heart, of loving him so desperately I might lose myself in the process.

“Oh, Peter . . .”

“I promise you . . . you’ll never regret it,” the look of adoration in his eyes was my undoing. I nodded.

His boyish grin lit up his entire face, “Good.” His kiss was liquid heat and blazing desire all in one. Pete pulled me back to the floor, his eyes shining with mischief. I melted into his arms as he pressed me back against the blanket on the floor of the treehouse. The butterflies in my stomach intensified. Were these feelings the result of his words or my own deep desires rising to the surface?

“Rae,” his voice was low and husky.

“Yes?” I whispered, too languid to speak louder.

“I’m yours,” he placed a tiny kiss on my jaw. “Today . . .” another kiss, “tomorrow . . .” another kiss after that, “and . . . forever if you want.”

His kisses left me in little doubt he was speaking the truth.

“Peter,” I panted from the exertion of trying to keep my breath. “I have no idea how to answer that.”

“You don’t have to right now,” he placed another kiss against my temple and held me tighter. “Just know that I’m always here . . . and I’m not going anywhere without you.”

So that was what he meant. At least about going away. But where did that leave us? We were in high school. Certainly he wasn’t thinking of marriage. But who knew what thoughts swam around in his head? Peter was a mystery. The more I thought I knew, the more I realized I didn’t know much at all.

Something pivotal, something huge and life-altering, happened between us today. We couldn’t go back to yesterday. It would never be that simple again. Part of me was sad to see those two little kids running away never to return and yet part of me was fascinated and exhilarated by Peter’s declaration of love. I was quite swept off my feet. How romantic.

Who knew Peter had that quality?

He held me tight, even as the sun set and the first bright stars appeared in the navy-blue sky. We watched them through the window of the treehouse. Each of us lost in thought, silence stretched and filled the small room. It wasn’t uncomfortable. In the past, it might have been. But tonight, I simply rested in his arms, perfectly content to stay there, with my head over his heart.

Forever.