“You’re not,” he said. “You were put there at sixteen by men who didn’t ask you what you wanted. That’s not the same thing.”
I looked at our joined hands.
“We don’t have to tell anyone anything,” he said. “You’re Willa. You’re staying at the ranch. That’s all anybody needs to know.”
“And what if I want to tell them?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Then you tell them. You tell everyone…or just a few people. From now on, you don’t do anything you don’t want to.”
I took a deep breath…and it was like I was filling my lungs for the first time since we’d left the cottage.
“You good?” he asked.
I smiled at him. “Yeah. I think I actually am.”
It didn’t take long to get to the Creekside Diner, where Forrest pulled into a spot on the street. There was a patio with a few brave folks bold enough to deal with the heat; most were seated inside, though I could see a few open tables through the window.
And…it was strange. I knew what a diner looked like. I’d seen pictures. I’d picked it up over time, I was sure I’d seen them on a TV or in books, read about it in my novels.
But I’d never beeninsidea diner.
My stomach growled.
“If you hadn’t been kissing me silly you wouldn’t be so hungry,” Forrest teased.
I frowned. “I thought you were taking responsibility for the eggs.”
“The eggs were my fault,” he said. “The kissing was mutual.”
“You started it.”
“Actually you started it,” he said. “Two weeks ago.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, and got out of the truck.
I was still smiling when he came around and opened my door. It made me less afraid of being out in the open; he took my hand, helped me out, then we walked up to the diner door together. I kept my hand in his…he didn’t seem to mind it.
He only let go of me to open the door and usher me through.
It smelled like coffee and bacon and syrup inside, like more sugar than I’d ever had growing up. I stopped just inside and looked around, Forrest right behind me.
“If there’s any point when you want to leave, you just let me know,” he murmured under his breath. “Marlena’s always willing to let me pay next time I come in.”
“Marlena?”
“She runs the place,” Forrest said. “Stetson’s mom, actually—old family friend.”
A woman appeared as if she’d been summoned, dark hair streaked with silver, wearing an apron over a floral print red dress. She smiled, taking in Forrest’s familiar face…her smile widening when she caught the fact that we were holding hands.
All of a sudden, this was real.
People knew about us…knew he wasmineand I washis.
It was strange and perfect.
“Well howdy stranger,” she said, grinning. She was wearing red lipstick, pretty…but I could absolutely tell that Stetson was her son. “Two this morning?”
