“I’m not worried,” I said automatically.
He snorted. “You’re always worried.”
I started to protest, then stopped. Because he wasn’t wrong.
Saying the words—She’s coming up this weekend—had felt good at first. Solid. Like proof that whatever was happening between us was more than just a moment that would fade once the city noise swallowed her again. But hearing them out loud now, they sounded different.
Thinner somehow. Fragile.
Because they were so far away. She was so far away.
I swirled the beer in my glass, watching the foam cling to the sides.
“You ever get that feeling,” I said slowly, “like you’re standing on solid ground, but you can still hear the crack under your feet?”
Callum’s smile faded.
“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I have.”
“She said she’d come up,” I went on, half to myself. “And I believe her. I do. But…”
“But you’ve been here before,” he finished. “And you’re not sure if it’s the same movie playing again.”
“Something like that.”
He nodded, quiet for a moment, then said, “You’re overthinking.”
“Maybe.”
“No maybe about it. You’ve got that look—same one you had after you asked Dad if the river ever stopped moving and he said, ‘Not for us to know.’ You’ve been trying to make sense of things that don’t need explaining since you were ten.”
I smirked faintly. “You're comparing Melanie to a river?”
“I’m comparing you to an idiot.”
“That’s nice.”
He grinned again, all good humor returning. “Drink your beer, idiot. If she says she’s coming, she’s coming. You start doubting it now, you’ll only drive yourself crazy.”
I finished the rest of my beer in silence, letting the tavern’s noise wash over me with the clink of glasses, the hum ofconversation, and the fire’s low crackle. The longer I sat there, the steadier I felt.
Reckless River had a way of doing that. It didn’t demand belief. It just kept existing until you remembered why you loved it.
Maybe that’s what Melanie needed. Maybe when she came back, she’d remember too.
I stood, sliding the empty glass toward Callum. “You’re right.”
“Of course I am,” he said, smirking. “About what, specifically?”
“About me overthinking.”
“Shocking.”
“And about one more thing,” I said.
He tilted his head. “What’s that?”
I grinned, heading for the kitchen door. “You’re buying next round when she shows up.”
