There was a pause. Then Dustin’s tone shifted, still light, but more grounded. “Alright. Talk to me. What’s going on?”
I exhaled and sat up straighter on the bed. “There’s a woman.”
“Oh boy.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Does she know that?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Dustin.”
“Okay, okay.” He waited, giving me space.
“She runs the place I’m staying at. A lodge. Small, cozy, charming as hell. She’s…” I trailed off, trying to explain the impossible.
“She’s what?”
“Loud,” I said finally. “Bright. She talks a mile a minute, laughs like nobody’s listening, and she looks at you like she sees straight through every defense you’ve ever built.”
Dustin let out a low hum. “Ah. A sunshine girl.”
“Yeah.”
“Let me guess. She makes you want to risk everything and also hide in a closet.”
“That’salarminglyaccurate.”
He chuckled. “You always were a sucker for the ones who made you feel things.”
“Except I’m not supposed tofeelanything,” I snapped.
“Who says?”
I ran a hand through my hair. “It’s not realistic, Dustin. I live in Florida. She lives here. We’ve talked, what—three, maybe four times? And every time I open my mouth, I either dodge her questions or sound like a socially constipated scarecrow.”
“Sounds like a love story.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious,” he said. “You’re overthinking again.”
“That’s kind of my thing.”
“Your thing is guilt,” he corrected. “Always has been. Not me. I don’t have a lick of it.”
I went quiet.
He didn’t fill the silence.
“You left,” I said finally. “You got out.”
“And you stayed.”
“Someone had to.”
“Would the outcome have changed?” he asked.
His words were something I had refused to ask myself, but I finally answered him. “No, probably not.”
