You and Everything After

Ty nods when he’s done, then pulls himself into his chair.

“There’s a path for most of the way,” I say, zipping my hoodie over my chest and pushing my hands deep into the pockets. The breeze is light, but there’s still a little chill in the air.

We take the path down to the guardhouse, but stop at the sand.

“You have beaches in Louisiana, right?” I ask.

He looks out over the water, almost memorizing the patterns of the waves. “Yeah, but…not like this,” he says, his mouth settling into the most content smile. “Not like this.”

We stay here, under the shade of the guardhouse for a while, people-watching and listening to the sound of the waves. I used to love taking naps here, falling asleep to the sound. I’ve paid for it with sunburns many times.

“Hey, you think I can get you in the sand?” I ask, looking at the wheels of his chair, contrasting them with the softness of the sand ahead.

“I don’t know. Maybe?” he says, looking at his wheels, and rocking them back and forth with his hands. “It’ll be tough. Are you…strong enough for that?”

“Psssshaw,” I say, hand on my hip. “Have you met my trainer? He’s a hard-ass.” This makes him laugh.

Ty pushes himself to the very edge, but before he rolls from the concrete into the sand, I stop him, holding up a finger. “I have an idea,” I say.

I reach into my bag and pull out the two large beach towels I brought and unfurl them, stepping hard on the material to compact the sand underneath. “That should get us sixteen feet at a time,” I say. Ty’s lips tug at the corner as he looks at the brightly colored path ahead.

When I grip the handles behind him, I pause. Ty doesn’t let others push him often, and it isn’t lost on me how special this is, how much trust he’s giving me. I lean forward and kiss his neck lightly, and he brings a hand up to caress my face.

“Careful, babe. We might not make it very far if you keep doing that,” he says, and I smile against his skin.

The first push comes easy, and momentum carries us a good ten feet before I feel the sand building around the tires and working against me. Ty holds up a hand and tilts the chair back slightly, nodding for me to push again; we make it the full sixteen feet. I grab the towels each time we make it to the next one—building our distance until we’re a good forty or fifty feet away from the guardhouse, almost to the smooth, wet sand.

“This is good,” he says. “You won’t have the energy to get me back if we go any farther.”

“What? I’ve got energy coming out of my ears. Haven’t you heard? This girl’s on steroids,” I say, and he smiles in response, but holds his hand over mine and pulls me to his lap to stop me anyway.

“Yeah, about that,” he starts, and I suddenly feel trapped.

“Ty, don’t. I don’t want to talk about it, not now,” I say, and he takes a deep breath.

“I know. Just hear me out, and then I promise we’ll move on to making out on that pile of sand right there.” His words make me blush. “You don’t have to do this. You’ve proven a lot, to yourself, to everyone. Just, your parents, they may have a point.”

“Don’t, Ty. Don’t you dare give up on me,” I say, my stomach fluttering with anxiety. He can’t back out on me now. I need him. I want this, and I’m only strong enough with him.

He purses his lips and breathes in long through his nose, his eyes washing over my face, my neck, down my arm…to the place where his hand grabs mine. He pulls it to his mouth and kisses my knuckles, then pushes the sleeve up on my hoodie until his watch shows. He twists it around so the face is on the inside of my wrist, and taps it twice, then lets the tip of his finger graze over the thin skin underneath.

“Always. I’m always on your side. I just didn’t want you to think you had to prove anything to me,” he says, and I hug him tightly and kiss him hard. When I pull back and look at his face, my champion is back. The only thing I’ll ever need in my corner. “Think you can hold my weight just long enough to get me…down there?”

I bite my lip and slide from his lap until I’m next to him, pulling his arm over my shoulder. “On the count of three,” I say, letting Ty count down when he’s ready.

His body is heavier than I expected, and I can’t support him for long. But we make it to the flat sand right in front of us, and I lay back and let him hover above me, his strong arms caging me in while the waves cascade in and out a hundred feet away. The way he looks at me, the slowness at which he bends down, bringing his lips to mine, it’s all so perfect. The boys in high school, the mistakes I’ve made, my doubts and self-loathing—it all washes away with every kiss, every pass of his nose against my cheek, the sensation of his teeth along my neck, the whispers in my ear.