Page 101 of Not Until I Found You

The song drifts into something slower, and the crowd shifts with it, couples drawing closer together. Maxinne’s hands slide to the back of my neck, fingers warm against my skin, and I pull her to me. Feeling her skin on mine sends bolts of lightning running down my neck and into my arms. It’s the simplest of contact that shouldn’t affect me like this, but it’s Maxinne. Things haven’t made much sense where she’s concerned.

She places her head onto my chest, and I lean my chin against the top of her head as we sway to the music. Song after song, we don’t separate, until we hear a cheer rippling through the crowd, right as the first bright firework cracks overhead, scattering gold across the sky. Maxinne gasps, pulling back enough to look up, her face illuminated in bursts of red as the next one splits across the sky.

“I love fireworks,” she breathes.

Another firework blooms, followed by another, the sky filling with color and loud booms. The crowd applauds between bursts, kids squealing somewhere nearby. But I don’t look up. I look at her.

At the wonder that softens her expression. The way her hand tightens in mine like she’s anchoring herself here in this moment with me. I slide one hand up to cradle her cheek, my thumb brushing beneath her eye. She turns into the touch, her gaze lifting to mine.

“Zane,” she gasps in awe.

Everything inside of me draws tight at the sound of my name, every nerve stretched like a bowstring ready to release. For one suspended heartbeat, all I can do is look at her. The fireworks explode overhead, painting bursts of red and gold across her face, her eyes reflecting every color.

I don’t fight it anymore. I close the distance as my mouth finds hers. The kiss steals every coherent thought from my mind. She melts into me with a sigh that I feel all the way down to my bones, and I cradle her face as though I can’t bear the thought of letting her slip away. The fireworks continue bursting above us, but they’re nothing more than distant echoes compared to the way my heart pounds against my ribs.

When we finally part, neither of us goes very far. Her hands slide up to cup my face, her thumbs brushing lightly along my jaw as she rests her forehead against mine. We breathe the same summer air, our laughter and uneven breaths mingling together.

She doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t have to. Having her here—choosing me, holding me like this—is an answer to every prayer I’ve been too afraid to ask God for.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Maxinne

“Okay.” Zane glances over at me with a solemn expression that grabs my attention. “Before we get there, I need to explain the rules.”

I smile faintly. “Rules?”

“Yeah. This isn’t an ordinary hike.”

The road narrows the farther we drive. He slows the truck as the pavement gives way to packed dirt and gravel. Trees crowd closely on both sides. Their branches touch overhead, creating a magical tunnel as the sunlight filters through in uneven patches. A weathered slab of wood comes into view at the start of the trailhead bearing the words Silent Mountain.

“This place is different,” he says as he turns into a small parking lot where only two other cars are parked. Once he turns off the truck’s engine, he faces me and rests his forearm on the steering wheel.

“What kind of hike is this, then?” I ask.

A divot forms between his brows. “One where we don’t talk. At all.”

I blink. “Not even a little?”

“Not even a little.” His lips twitch into a grin. “The point is silence. As you make the hike up the mountain, you think about whatever’s weighing on your heart. Whether it’s your anger, fear, or grief. I’ve used this hike several times to talk to God when life felt extra heavy. Everything I don’t know how to say out loud, I say it up here.” He points to his temple.

I follow his gaze out the windshield. The mountain doesn’t look that bad at first. The trail winds through the trees and climbs gradually up the lower ridge. Then my eyes travel higher as the gentle slope gives way to steep rock faces that zigzag up the mountainside. Suddenly, this whole adventure feels a lot more real, but with the way Zane’s shoulders are pinned back in determination, it makes me want to give it a shot.

“You let all of it fuel you for the climb,” he continues. “And then once you reach the top, you release it all with a scream.”

My head snaps toward him. “Wait, you what?”

“Or shout. Or pray out loud,” he amends, ignoring the bewildered look on my face. “You give it all up. Then you breathe in what you want to replace it with. Whether it’s grace, or peace, or faith. Whatever God’s offering to you. Then your hike down is for you to focus on your gratitude or whatever good thoughts you’re having.”

I don’t laugh, even though I feel like I could. The way he explains it tells me this matters to him, and he must have brought me here for a reason.

So, I ask, “Why did you bring me here?”

He doesn’t answer me right away. Outside of the truck, a breeze moves through the trees, leaves whispering against one another. My stomach clenches as if I’m bracing myself for something, but I’m not sure what.

“Because,” he finally says. When his gaze lands on mine, the playful ease I’ve come to expect is gone, and I swallow loudly. “You’ve been searching for answers and direction for what you want out of your life. I’ve watched you flourish and reach out to God, seeking a relationship with him, even though religion has hurt you.” His fingers tighten briefly around the steering wheel. “And because things with us are a little uncertain.”

I know he’s right. We’ve been avoiding the discussion of ’what happens to us after summer ends,’ and I think I get it now. He’s hoping this hike might help me clear my head, to make a decision.