He jogs away before I can roll my eyes.
I glance down at the first clue while Tessa crowds closer to read over my shoulder.“Where hydrangeas sway and the bay secrets keep, find the place where our verdicts still weep.”
“They’re referencing the weathered stone bench overlooking the bay, tucked beneath a cluster of hydrangeas at the edge of the estate,” I say, though focusing on legal history is difficult when she’s close enough that I can feel her breath on my neck.
She hums that low, thoughtful sound she makes when she’s about to disagree with me, and I brace for impact. “Mmm... or it could be the plaque by the water—you know, the one with the creepy blindfolded statue and the historical misquote.”
“It’s not the statue,” I say, watching her bite her lower lip as she thinks. “The bench is older, and the reference to hydrangeas and the bay’s secrets clearly points to the weathered stone bench overlooking the water.”
She shrugs, the movement making her shoulder brush mine. I hate that such minimal contact makes my pulse spike. “You say bench, I say bad poetry and a waste of khakis.”
I look at her—really look at her, at the challenge in her eyes and the slight smirk playing at her mouth, which is still swollen from my attention. “You’re wrong.”
She grins, and it’s designed to destroy me. “And you’re incapable of fun.”
“Fun isn’t the point here. Winning is,” I say, because stating the obvious is easier than acknowledging that she just smiled at me like we’re still us.
“Spoken like someone who lost me once and still hasn’t processed it.”
I stop walking, and everything in my body goes still while my brain catches fire because she just said that—just dropped our entire history between us like a casual grenade while other couples mill around and Chad shouts encouragement about teamwork in the distance.
“Tell me something, Rowan.”
“Ugh.” I sigh, because when she starts with that tone, nothing good follows. “Please don’t.”
“Why do you get this way every time we’re together?”
“Like what?” I ask, though I know exactly what she means, which makes this whole dance even more pointless.
“Like everything’s a contest and I’m a mistake you’re still trying to out-argue.”
I stare at her because she’s not wrong; she’s just never said it out loud before.
“I take it you’re not planning to answer,” she says quietly, turning away. I grab her wrist before she gets too far—not hard, just enough to stop her and feel her pulse jump under my fingers.
“You’re not a mistake,” I say, voice low and controlled. It hurts to admit this, hurts to give her even this much truth when she walked away with all of them three years ago.
Her eyes flick to mine, and for a second, I see something raw there, something that looks like the girl who used to kiss me in empty classrooms between debates. The wind moves her hairacross her face, and I don’t brush it back even though my hand twitches with the muscle memory.
I let go first because I have to. If I don’t, I’ll pull her closer instead of letting her move away.
She steps back just enough to regroup. I can’t feel her body heat anymore, and the loss of it is pathetic.
“Fine,” she says, licking her lips in that unconscious way. “Then let’s go find your bench.”
I nod once and start walking because movement is easier than standing still with her looking at me like she’s waiting for something I can’t give her.
We take the long trail around the east side of the house. Tessa walks just ahead of me, with her boots crunching the gravel and her arms swinging with calculated annoyance. I should let her cool off and give her space to process whatever just happened between us, but I don’t because I’m apparently incapable of good decisions where she’s concerned.
“The bench is this way,” I say, though she’s already heading in the right direction.
“Thanks, GPS. I’m really loving the back-seat navigation.” The sarcasm in her voice is so familiar it almost makes me smile.
“It’s not back seat if it’s accurate.”
She spins around, walking backwards just to glare at me while moving. “Gosh, do you evernotneed to be right?”
“Yes, but unfortunately, I usually am,” I say, watching her roll her eyes.
