“Ouch!” He mocks hurt, putting his hands over his chest.
“I’m sorry.” I apologize with a smirk. “You aren’t old. You are timeless.”
“That doesn’t sound much better.”
“Ageless?”
He raises a brow as he tugs at his thinning orange hair. “Found a gray hair last week.”
I shrug again. “Well then, it seems we are at an impasse.”
“I suppose so,” he says. “However, I think we can both agree on Firefly Farms. Are you still able to take some expired produce out for the hogs?”
“Have I ever missed a Friday?”
“You have not.” He chuckles, wiping his hands on his apron. “Thanks, Sadie. Do you want to take it now or come back later?”
“I’ve got to run to the bank, then I’ll be back.”
He nods. “Sounds good.”
I walk the rest of the way to the bank, make the same deposit I make every other Friday—and then my grip tightens around mybooks when I see a familiar green truck parked outside the grocery store.
I’ve thought about this moment a million times before, playing different versions of myself in each scenario.
The scorned ex-girlfriend who’s mad he didn’t fight a little harder for her even when she told him not to.
The flirty ex-girlfriend who longs to feel the things she once felt when she was with him.
The polite ex-girlfriend who says all the right words to make him feel validated in his choices, including the one where he didn’t come back when she needed him most. The time she needed someone to hold her when she was trying to keep her world from falling apart.
I inhale deeply as I walk into the grocery store, forcing myself to loosen my jaw and let my shoulders fall away from my ears.
I spot Mr. Waters with Milo.
In all my scenarios, this is not the setting for any of them. Dusty Hollow will be set ablaze with gossip, which means I know I’m going to choose the polite version of myself.
Milo turns to me before I reach them, and it takes every ounce of the strength I have left—which is not much these days—to secure a snug smile on my face.
“Sadie.” His voice is deeper and a bit rougher than it once was, but he still sounds like the boy I knew.
“Milo. I heard you were back in town.”
His easy grin widens, wrinkling his blue eyes. “Oh, you did? Been stalking me?”
I slide my stack of books from one sweaty arm to the other. “I just found out ten minutes ago.”
“Oh,” he says softly. “Well, here I am.”
“Well, here you are,” I say, my smile still tight.
Seconds stretch out further than a Texas sunset as we stare at each other, time a gaping abyss between us. Years that turned a boy into a man—his blond hair now more golden than white, his face lined with a decade of memories made without me.
I can feel others meandering around the store glancing in our direction, their eyes searching for what kind of reunion this will be.
“I’m here for the produce, Mr. Waters,” I say, turning my attention to him.
He wipes his hand on his apron. “Oh, yes. I’ll go get that for you.”
