Two nights later, and I’m staying at Blake’s again. It’s become a habit now, going about our days separately and then coming together when the sun goes down. We make dinner, watch a TV show, talk, or she reads while I watch veterinary surgery videos on YouTube.

There is a quiet camaraderie about being with her; we know each other so well, yet so much time has passed that we learn something new with each interaction. The other day, Blake revealed that she no longer drinks coffee, as it gives her headaches. When I knew her in high school, she lived off of those foamy Frappuccino drinks, bouncing off the wall like some caffeine addicted fool.

She learned that I love murder mystery shows, and often like to talk about who the possible murderer could be during the episode. Now, when we watch them together, she shushes me the entire time because she says it ruins the mystery.

Blake uses a certain kind of toothpaste, while I tend towards an electronic toothbrush. She leaves her shoes lined up neatly on the landing near her front door, and hums while she cooks. There are so many little things about her that I never got to see after I left, that I never got to experience because I didn’t see her grow into the person she is today.

It’s fun to learn about each other, but it’s bittersweet. Because if I’d come to my senses or if she’d reached out, we could have done it a long time ago. I try not to dwell on that though.

We’re finishing up the meatloaf and mashed potatoes Blake made for dinner, and The Beatles sing through the record player. Rhett is softly snoring on my shoe under the table, and I’m so satisfied that I can’t remember being this purely happy in my entire life.

“You’re a fantastic cook, I’m stuffed.” I compliment my girlfriend, reaching for her hand across the small kitchen table.

Although there was never a conversation about labels and status, we knew what we were to each other. From the moment I’d come back, from the moment we’d kissed on that night in her hallway, we had been bound to each other. Ours was a love story so historically written that there didn’t need to be a conversation. We were a couple, always had been and always would be.

“Is it too early to get into bed?” Blake rested her head in her other hand.

It had been a long week, and nothing sounded better than getting naked with her in bed right now.

But right before I was about to say we should, the last ray of the sun caught something in the window, diverting my gaze to it. Standing high on its hill, set out further than anything else on Carova’s beach roads, was our Horse Shack.

We’d yet to go back to the place that held so many memories for us. I think we were both scared, entering a place that we’d had so many firsts. And a terrible last.

But it was time. “Let’s go to the Horse Shack.”

Slowly, she turns her eyes to look at the same house I’m looking at. “I haven’t been in that house in ten years.”

I stand, never letting go of her hand, and pull us gently to the window. “Well, I think it’s time that we go back.”

She nods, and we gather some things. Blake puts away the plates while I change my work shoes for boots. She grabs a blanket while I make us a thermos of hot chocolate. If we’re going out there, we are going to stay out there until the bitter tastes in our mouths are gone.

Wordlessly, we lock up the house and make our way out to the Horse Shack, the cold night air invading our fleeces. The place looks almost untouched, a memory from our past sitting right in front of us. Hand in hand, we pause at the front door, a piece of wood that has been weathered and hacked at with age and kids joking around in here.

“Let’s rip the Band-Aid off, shall we?” I smile at her and push it open.

As we walk inside, I’m hit with so many scenes from our past. The first time she challenged Joel and I to come in here. The wall where I’d first kissed her. The corner of the first floor that I’d made us a picnic in when we were fifteen.

But the first floor had never been our place.

“It’s all so much the same.” Blake breathes, and I lead her toward the stairs.

We don’t need to talk about where we are going. Our souls meet in the place, the center of our universe exists on the second floor of this house where the stars and moon shine freely.

When we get to the second floor, she drops my hand and walks to the jagged edges of the floor where the wall was seemingly ripped off, and sits with her feet hanging over the side. I join her, and look out onto the moonlit bay.

“I should have never said those things to you the last time we were here,” she whispers, not looking at me.

I hear her echoed words ringing through the room. How she blamed me for Joel’s death, how she said I should have gone after him or stopped him. When she told me she could never look at me again and that I should leave our home forever. That she could never love me again.

“And I should have never left. We both did things we regret, but it’s in the past.”

She leans into me. “I hate that we lost so much time.”

“Such is life, and we’re still young. We have all the time in the world, baby.” I wrap my arms around her.

“It’s so beautiful, I forgot how majestic it was up here. Our special place, just for the two of us.”

We listen to the sounds of the ocean and the bay for a while.

“Our love is like this house, Blake. It’s old and wise, aged with years. It may be shaky at times, but the foundation is solid. The doors may get blown off, the siding may weather … but we are always going to be here. We are always going to survive, make it through, standing tall. That’s how deep my love runs for you. And it will stay that way, forever.”

A warm hand on my cheek turns my head, and I’m caught with desirable lips on my own. She shows me how deep her love runs for me with her actions, and there is not a need for any more words.