Page 80 of See It Through

Yeah, I’d definitely done the right thing.

I couldn’t wait to see her face when I told her—just as soon as Dell finished filing what he needed to and not a second longer.

After my meeting with Dell, I drove back home. Since Caleb was still limiting my time working on the ranch until his stubborn ass decided I’d fully recovered and Hannah was off at work, I was at loose ends. Sitting around, doing nothing, wasn’t me. I was accustomed to being on the move, having a goal, but I still hadn’t uncovered what that looked like since coming back to Sugar Brush over two months ago. I was in the middle of considering what I wanted to do with my day when Henry rapped on the screen door and called out, “Got you a package, kid.”

I pushed the door open and took the small but heavy box out of his grizzled brown hands. “Thanks. Do you want to come in, have a glass of water or tea?”

Henry had been living on this property for as long as I could remember, and he’d always been old. His skin was leathery from his years spent in the sun, and the crags on his face were deep and weathered. His white hair was almost always covered by a trucker hat, and his wiry frame was beginning to stoop, but he could still lift a bale of hay over his shoulder without flinching. He could’ve been fifty or ninety. I couldn’t guess, and asking was out of the question. It didn’t really matter anyway. Henry was as much part of this property as the yellow grass covering the land and the lone pine tree that had sprouted up out of a slab of granite I’d been fascinated by as a kid.

“Nah.” Henry waved me off, already shuffling away from the door. “Too much to do to spend time chitchatting.”

With no other fanfare, he tromped down the porch steps.

I took the box into the kitchen, noting it’d come from North Carolina, but no name. I didn’t know what I expected to find, but a scratched and beaten leather camera bag wasn’t it. There was a folded piece of paper on top of it with a note inside.

Dear Remi,

You were always part of Logan’s stories. He admired the work you did, and his private goal was to match your skill and ability to tell a story through a picture. As his mother, I thought he was brilliant, but he always strove to be better. You inspired him.

This camera was his most treasured possession. He had no use for other material things. I’m sure you understand.

I think Logan would be honored for you to have his camera. Keep it or give it to someone else who will treasure it. I have a feeling you’ll know what to do.

I’m sorry we were never able to meet, Remington, but I’m glad I have the chance to tell you how highly my son thought of you. Live well. As you know, life is far too short.

In gratitude,

Rebecca Adamski

Knotted emotions clogged my throat as I lifted the bag out of the box, picturing it where I’d last seen it, slung across Logan’s chest. I couldn’t remember if he’d had it in the car the day we wrecked. It would’ve been a miracle if it survived in one piece. Maybe he’d been carrying his second camera that day.

Unzipping the top, I held my breath as I slid out Logan’s Nikon. It was pristine, well taken care of. Some of my colleagues primarily used their phones to capture images, but Logan and I had agreed nothing touched what we could get with a high-quality professional camera.

With a clenched gut, I powered on the camera and brought the viewfinder to my eye. My finger twitched on the shutter release, and something shifted in me. This camera was mine now, and I would make good use of it.

Instinct drove me outside into the fields, and my feet didn’t stop until I reached the tree in the rock. There, I raised the camera again, and for the first time since I’d arrived in Wyoming, I was truly, fully myself.

I was sitting on the porch steps when Hannah pulled up. She waved as she drove past me, parking in front of the detached garage. Hopping out of the truck, she sauntered over to me, her thumbs hooked in her belt loops.

The sun was behind her, glinting off her hair, casting a golden hue on her bare shoulders. With each step she took, her lips curved a little more. I raised the camera in my hands and snapped a series of pictures of her.

She stopped right in front of me, hands on her hips. “You’ll have to talk to my agent before you take any more pictures. I’m expensive, you know.”

Grinning, I lowered the camera to rest on the step beside me and walked down to meet her, looping my arm around her waist to draw her in.

“That’s why I had to steal those shots. I knew I couldn’t afford you.” I touched my mouth to hers, soft and slow. Her fingers curled into my shirt, gripping the fabric in a fist. “Prettiest pictures I ever took,” I murmured.

“Shut up and kiss me, Remington.”

With a laugh, I banded my arm beneath her ass to lift her and walked her over to the post holding up the porch, pressing her back against it. Her long legs wrapped around me, ankles locking behind me and her fingers delved into the sides of my hair. I took a beat to drink in her face, a little smudged with dirt from a long day at work. Sweat beading in her hairline. Freckles dusted the bridge of her nose and fanned out along her cheeks. Since we became anus, I’d seen her nearly every day, but there was no getting used to this. Her beauty nearly dropped me to my knees every damn time.

I covered her mouth with mine, giving her the kiss she’d requested. Long and deep.

Her lips parted, letting my tongue sweep inside to explore. Her legs tightened around me as a soft moan spilled free. Once I’d started, it’d become impossible to stop. I slipped a hand under the back of her tank to get to her warm, smooth skin.

“Remi,” she murmured, “I’m so dirty. You don’t wanna touch me.”

“Says who?” I continued under her shirt, trailing my fingers along the edge of her sports bra. “I don’t mind dirt.”