Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 42882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
I smiled to myself. As much as I gave Lane, he gave me back a hundredfold in the simple pleasure of his company, the warmth of his presence, his daily kindnesses, and the way he let me care for him, not because he necessarily needed it but because he understood I did.
The two of us could sustain each other for a lifetime, if he’d let us, and I wanted the wreath to show that too. I wanted him to see the hope and possibility of a life with me. I wanted him to see that my heart was his with no strings attached—no contracts and no down payment required.
This wreath was a story. His story. Our story. And if Lane did decide to leave someday, I wanted him to have this wreath to take with him so he’d remember that somebody in the world saw him, understood him, appreciated him… and loved him.
I stepped back, wiping my hands on my jeans as I stared at my creation. It wasn’t just the best Entwinin’ wreath I’d ever made; it was the best thing I’d ever made, period, and I was pretty damn proud of it.
But it occurred to me that I didn’t quite know how to give it to him.
Some folks liked to make a big production of giving their wreaths right in the middle of town at the Entwinin’ festival, and I understood that. Part of the fun was being able to show the world how much love and pride you had for your Entwined. All the displays of affection, all the positivity and joy from seeing other people happy… it was energizing and uplifting.
On the other hand, plenty of folks preferred to give their wreaths privately—an opportunity for a sweet and special moment between sweethearts or friends—and I understood that too.
But what did you do when your Entwined had said he wanted casual and your wreath practically shouted I’m in love with you? What did you do when you wanted your Entwined to know how very special he was, but you didn’t want him to feel awkward that he didn’t have a wreath for you or pressured to love you back?
I turned off the lights and locked the workshop behind me. I climbed the stairs to Lane’s apartment and laid his wreath on the Welcome Mat, propped against the door where he’d find it in the morning. That way, the wreath didn’t have to mean anything more than Lane wanted it to, and he didn’t have to worry about responding in any kind of way in front of me.
But when I went home and climbed into my bed to snag a few hours of sleep, the night felt heavier than usual, like the weight of all the things I wasn’t telling Lane was pressing down on my chest.
Eventually—soon, maybe even tomorrow after the festival—I needed to tell him how I felt.
I needed to ask him if there was any possibility the novelty of living in the Thicket would wear off one day… and, if not, would he want to make a go of it with a simple country boy like me?
I woke up only two hours later and packed up my truck with the wreaths I’d made, hoping the noise from the engine wouldn’t wake Lane too early.
The first several deliveries went by quickly. After seeing several sleepy faces light up with excitement when I showed them their custom wreaths, my mood had improved. As the morning wore on and my truck got emptier with each visit, I felt myself relaxing. This was my town, these were my people, and their optimism was contagious.
I loved the Entwinin’. It was like Valentine’s Day but with a ton more authenticity and the social acceptance of expressing love and affection for friends and neighbors the same way we did for our romantic loves.
It was a holiday of celebrating others, celebrating community, celebrating togetherness.
When I finally finished my deliveries and made it into town, the sun had burned off the morning chill, and it had turned into a gorgeous spring day. The square was alive with music and laughter, wreaths strung from every post and hanging from shop doors. Kids ran by with sticky fingers and wide grins while couples walked hand in hand, sharing soft smiles and whispered promises.
I walked toward the center of the action, enjoying the people I’d known my whole life celebrating love in all its forms like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Because it was.
Maybe my midnight crisis had been my insecurity talking. Maybe I wasn’t giving Lane enough credit to know what he wanted. He’d told me he was happy in the Thicket. Now, in the light of day and around all of the best of what made my town the most special place on Earth, I could see it. Why wouldn’t he love it here? I sure did.