“Wrong season for stone fruit,” I joke back, smirking a little and nuzzling into his palm as he guides me closer. Our mouths meet and I let my eyes fall shut as I relax against him.

Grief has clouded so much of my thoughts that I had almost forgotten just how good it feels to kiss him, to let his sunshine chase away the gray.

My fingers curl in the front of his shirt and I deepen the kiss, licking into his mouth like that day on the berm, like I’m discovering just how good it feels all over again.