But small-town gossip, it’s a sin the most devout churchgoers still participate in.
“I missed Dusty Hollow and wanted to see if my life still fit here.” I give the half-truth with another half grin.
“Hm,” he mutters.
“I just—” I cut off my own words, thinking about Sadie. How I could see her smile in the crowd even when she wasn’t there.
Matt tilts his head, a slightly amused look on his face.
“Is Sadie . . .” I stammer, “seeing anyone?”
Matt’s mouth slips into an incredulous grin as he starts to walk toward the cash register to take money out of the drawer. “Would that bother you?”
I arrived in Dusty Hollow two days ago, but it didn’t feel like home until I saw her.
“No,” I say too quickly.
“You know how small towns are.” Matt counts the money out. “Everyone’s either related, dated, hated, or sworn off.”
Matt married his high school sweetheart years ago. Nadine Stewart. Jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes. She was nine years older, but all of us elementary boys practically melted on the spot when she winked at us.
“How’s Nadine, by the way?”
“She’s sunshine and beautiful babies,” Matt replies. “We have seven now. They cling to her like melted butter on toast, and I can’t blame them.”
“I’m happy for you, Matt,” I reply. “It’s good to see dreams still come true in small places.”
“Dreams are only as small as your mind, although sometimes a larger budget would be nifty,” he teases, and I smile at the wordnifty, hearing his father in it more than him. But I guess that’s what time does to you. It changes you into the people you love most, and I remember how much Matt loved his dad.
Matt puts the money into a blue bag.
“Is it too late to make a purchase?” I ask.
“Lemonade popsicles are still in the same freezer,” he answers.
“How did you?—”
He chuckles. “It’s on me. Anything for Sadie. Just . . .” He pauses. “. . . give her time. You just got here.”
I nod and walk the familiar aisle back to the wall of freezers. I used to buy Sadie a lemonade popsicle every Saturday. She loves lemon. Or at least, she once did.
It’s been years, but seeing Sadie in that yellow sundress, her skin freckled by the Texas sun, made something in my veins hum more energetically, and I felt like that same young boy I once was, who wanted to get his life together so he could makethatgirl smile at him.
She is everything I remember.
Everything I held on to all these years, even when she wasn’t mine to hold.
I walk back to the front. “Thanks, Matt,” I say as I lift the popsicle.
He lifts his chin. “And in case my answer wasn’t clear, no, Sadie isn’t seeing anyone that I know of.”
I nod my appreciation and walk out of the grocery store. Main Street is as familiar as the rest of the town—from the American flag flying high above the bank to the same potted petunias that are planted every year decorating the sidewalks.
I watch a man in a backward ball cap with dark stubble outside the hardware store and realize it’s Grant Williams. He was a couple years younger than me and a heck of a wide receiver.
I jog over to him. “Grant! It’s good to see you.”
His green eyes widen as he crosses his arms. “Milo. You’re here.”
