Kinnick and I stepped out of the gym. He stopped me, making me smile as his hands wrapped around my shoulders. "This is where it started - our story. This is where I was standing when I came out and realized your dad left you here. That was my opportunity to walk you home. My chance to finally talk to you and hope something would come of it."

"But I told you I wasn't going to let you give me a ride because you didn't have a safe place sticker on your forehead."

He laughed, rubbing his face. "You gave me a lot of shit, Bo."

I shrugged. "You didn't exactly roll out the welcome wagon."

"But you went with me because I promised you I wouldn't let anything happen," he kissed the side of my head.

"After listening to you tell me I was clumsy and couldn't throw a punch to save my life," I reminded him.

"Alright, alright," he held up his hands. "Calm down, asshole."

I watched him walk down the sidewalk. "What are we doing exactly?"

He slung his duffle bag with all of the gear he used for Chase over his shoulder. "Walking you home."

My head fell to the side to look at him, smiling at his words. We walked under the pale moonlight, hand in hand as we relieved everything that happened the first night we met. Except, this time it wasn't October, it is summer. The lamp-posts flickered on as they flooded the streets with their golden lights. People sat out their pots filled with flowers, giving color to their shops.

Everything was different now that we were both happy. We didn't look at our town with hatred anymore because these brick-paved roads were full of stories. Stories that revealed our love for one another. The kind of story that you would tell your kids about.

My eyes left the scene in front of me to see the man walking next to me. I saw the scar on his face, remembering the times I used to ask myself if he was a bad person. Nothing worried me more than walking with a man that I just met, but something about this stranger made me safe.

Now we have been together for six ongoing years. These past six years have been better than the first seventeen of my life. Now I am living a life that we created based on love, happiness, and truth. And I have to say, it was worth it.

"Stop staring," he gave me a side glance.

"No, thank you," I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to focus on anything except for the man walking beside me, but I loved him so much that I failed to do just that. "I love you too much."

What felt like seconds later, the white Victorian home I used to love came into view. Kinnick's hand tightened around mine as we came closer to the three-story house that held the worst and most beautiful memories. The wrap-around porch was decorated with hanging flower baskets, but this time they weren't wilting over their pots.

"I have something I want to show you," he pulled me toward the privacy fence. "And I also have to be honest with you."

"About what?"

"Chase and I weren't at the gym everyday," he winced. "We have been here."

My eyebrows furrowed as he pushed the door open. "What are you talking about?"

He nodded his head, motioning for me to look. "Come see for yourself, bookworm."

When I stepped around him, my lips parted. Flowers painted the backyard with pinks, yellows, and blues. Edison bulbs hung above us, glowing like a chandelier on the garden. Roses were sprouted in red against the willow tree that was decorated with bright bird feeders.

Under the canopy, on the elevated platform, my old daybed hung like a swing. My hands ran along the striped fitted sheet as I stared at the baby blue paint. I slid on top, smiling as I looked over the yard that was dead for years after my mom died.

"We have been digging it out," he motioned to the flower beds. "And replacing all of the dead flowers with new ones. I know how much this met to you, and I know your mom was trying to start a nature reserve center, so I figured we could at least uphold that."

"John and Riley are okay with this? They don't have room for a swing set for Jaydon."

He chuckled. "Actually, it was their idea."

I watched as he slid on the bed next to me. "Really?"

"They know how much this met to you," he shrugged.

"It is their house now."

He shrugged. "John said it would be better if he invited his parents over and everyone thought he was a mastermind at planting."

I laughed, leaning my head on his shoulder as we swung back and forth. My back pressed against something hard. It poked into my back, making me move away quickly. I reached behind the pillow to see a book wedged into the frame. My eyebrows furrowed as I brought it onto my lap.

My gaze searched the cover, trying to figure out how this could be. It was my book, the one I have been writing for years, Loving Kinnick. I flipped through the pages, bewildered by my name on the hardback cover.

"What is this?"

He sucked in a deep breath. "You were worried about publishing your book. So, I have been spending my days, talking to countless publishers, trying to figure out which ones would be the best to have a partnership with. In my opinion, I think I found the best one. This is the first physical copy."

"Why is there tallymarks inside of it?" I brushed my fingers over the three lines in the bottom corner to the inside of the cover.

"It is how many times I have read it."

"You've read my book?"

"I am your biggest fan, Bo."

"What does this mean?"

"Well," he sat up. "The next time you walk into a bookstore, you will see your novel on the shelves."

My breathing faltered. "Are you being serious?"

"I wasn't going to let you regret never publishing it."

My arms went around his neck as I cried into his shoulder. "This is all I ever wanted."

"I know, baby," his hands rubbed my back.

"What if I don't make it?"

He grabbed my face to make me look at him. "That would be impossible."

"Why?"

"Because to me, you are the best fucking writer these eyes have ever seen."

My lips smashed against his. He breathed deeply into our kiss, giving himself to me as he relaxed against my touch. My hands fisted his shirt. He hooked an arm around my waist, bringing me onto his lap. Our lips moved against one another, trying to devour every emotion we felt for one another, but I pulled away.

"I love you."

His head leaned back on the seat. "I love you more. You should read to me."

"Read to you?"

"Like how we used to," he shrugged. "This time, you can read your own book."

My lips pressed against his cheek as I adjusted myself to lay my head on his lap. His arm rested over my bent knees as I opened the book, finding the first page. "I should have listened to everybody when they said don't get involved with him. You're only going to get hurt, they said. But I did it anyway and this is our story. This is what it is like Loving Kinnick."