The houses on his parents’ street were situated fairly far apart. Each home was set back from the street and had large front yards with plenty of grass to mow.

We turned onto a long driveway which was lined with trees and simple but tasteful landscaping. Ryan let out a sigh.

His childhood home was beautiful; a two story brick and vinyl home with a large flagstone porch leading up to the front door. The porch eaves had decorative wooden accents formed to look like archways, and from the center of each arch hung a basket with the remains of green ferns wilted from the cold.

We parked in front of the two car garage that entered into the side of the house. His father pressed the garage door opener that hung from his visor. It was apparent that they were used to entering their house through the garage.

Ryan didn’t even make it to the kitchen door – he had to pull the gray car cover up off the front end of his Shelby. The car was a beautiful shade of sapphire blue with two silver racing stripes from bumper to bumper. It surely was impressive.

“I’ve been running it every once and a while. She should start right up,” his father informed.

Ryan pulled the entire cover off of his car and bunched it up in a pile in the corner of the garage.

“Don’t just leave it lay there! Fold it up!” Bill reprimanded him.

“I will, Dad. Just give me a minute to say hello.” Ryan beamed at his car. “Hello, baby!” He touched the car fender lovingly. “Did you miss me?”

I couldn’t help but smile at Ryan. Boys and their toys! He reached into a cabinet mounted on the wall and pulled out the car keys, unlocking the doors to his precious car.

He was already hopping in the driver’s seat when his father yelled at him again. “Aren’t you even going to invite Taryn into the house first?”

“I just want to make sure she starts,” Ryan defended.

I held up my hand to his father and tried to dismiss his anger. “It’s all right. Let him start his car. He won’t be able to think of anything else.” I set my backpack down on the ground next to my suitcase.

A turn of the ignition and his car roared to life. The smile on his face was so huge it was like he died and went to heaven.

“Hop in. Let’s go for a ride,” he yelled over to me.

I ran for the passenger door.

I slipped down into the black leather bucket seat and snapped on my seatbelt. Ryan revved the engine and the car vibrated and purred beneath us. His long fingers wrapped around the gear shifter with white-knuckled anticipation.

He, of course, had to squeal the tires when he pulled out onto his street, causing the rear end to fishtail a bit. Look out neighbors, the crazy Christensen kid is back in town!

He drove out on some long back roads lined with farms and cornfields, driving too fast most of the time. He made a left turn and mashed his foot down on the gas, shifting forcefully through all the gears. At one point we were slightly airborne over a little knoll in the road. His driving was dangerous and exciting. I knew he’d been looking forward to this adrenaline rush more than anything.

Ryan from Pittsburgh was home.

“Did you have fun?” Ellen asked when we came through the kitchen door with our bags. She was busy making dinner. “Ryan, take your bags upstairs,” she ordered.

Bill was sitting in a dark brown recliner chair in the family room that was off of the kitchen. He was reading the newspaper and peeking over the top of it to occasionally watch television. It made me smile, fondly remembering my own father sitting in his favorite chair reading the newspaper.

I followed Ryan up the tan carpeted stairs to his room. He smirked at me as he pushed the last door on the right open with his shoulder. His old room had one four-paned window centered on the wall that overlooked the front yard. He flipped on the bedroom light, illuminating the lamp that sat on the single nightstand next to the bed. The light cast a shadow on the plain beige walls and new tan carpeting.

He had a dark oak desk with an old computer and printer sitting on it. On top of his tall wooden dresser were two baseball trophies and a small decorative lamp. And in the corner of his room stood a wooden coat rack, long empty of coats and clothing.

A tinge of sadness flowed into my chest. His room, the room he spent all of his life growing up in, was obviously cleansed of most of his things.

He didn’t have an apartment, a house, or even an old bedroom that was his anymore. All the fragments of his existence were boxed up and put aside or forgotten.

I understood why he was dying to get in his car the moment we arrived. That car was the only thing that was his… truly his. More importantly, I now knew why he moved in with me so quickly and was rushing the thoughts of building a house by a lake. My love was desperately craving a home… a connection… a safe haven to call his own - for he had nothing in this world but a suitcase and another lonely destination.

I dropped my bag off my shoulder and grabbed the front of his jacket with both of my hands. I wanted him to feel the depth of my love for him through my lips. I was desperate for him to realize that he was no longer alone in this world; that as long as I had a breath still left in my lungs I would provide him shelter and be his safe haven in all this uncertainty.

He slipped his fingers underneath my jacket and pushed it back over my shoulders. His coat came off next. He walked backwards to the bed, pulling me down with him. We kicked our shoes off and twined our clothed bodies together, passionately kissing each other.

“I love you,” I murmured on his lips, staring directly into his open eyes when I said it.

“I love you too,” he breathed back.

I rested my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat while he softly stroked my hair. He kissed my head several times and wrapped his arms around me tighter, conveying his own message of love back to me.

All too soon our unspoken conversation was interrupted by his mother’s voice. She was yelling up the stairs that Nick and Janelle were here.

“Hey, Brother!” Ryan greeted Nick with a hug. I stayed off to the side, smiling and waiting to be introduced.

Ryan and his brother had similar features, but Nick took after their father more than Ryan did. Nick had darker brown hair and was just an inch or two shorter than Ryan in stature, but close your eyes and you couldn’t tell which one was speaking. The similarity of their voices was uncanny.

Ryan hugged Janelle next, kissing her on her cheek.

“Hey movie star!” she kidded him. “How are you doing?”

Janelle was just a little shorter than I was, but she was adorable. She had highlighted light brown hair, which was straight and cut blunt at her shoulders. She wore trendy black framed glasses and had a captivating smile.