I let out a laugh.
She shifts her weight, hesitation flickering across her face. “Actually… I was going to grab lunch there, too. And I was wondering if you… if you wanted to… come with me?” Her eyes flicker to the bag in my hand, then away again, like she’s just realized I might already be on my way somewhere else.
Nothing in me should say yes.
Nothing.
Not with the kiss still under my skin. Not with that kiss stuck behind my ribs. Not with how damn complicated everything is, how close I came to losing my mind on that porch with her breath in my mouth and her hands fisted in my coat.
I should say no.
I know I should.
But my mouth betrays me.
“Yeah,” I say. “I can walk with you.”
She smiles. Small, relieved, almost shy.
And just like that, I’m done for.
We fall into step together on the sidewalk. Snow crunches beneath our boots. Lights glow above us. Her shoulder brushes mine once, and my pulse thunders.
I clear my throat. “How’s your mom?”
“She’s good,” she says. “Worried. Supportive. A little too hopeful I’ll stay in Buckhorn forever.” She blows out a breath, watching it fog in the air. “It’s… a lot.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I bet.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing yet,” she adds. “She keeps asking what I want. I don’t even know that.”
I swallow. “Maybe not knowing is okay.”
She looks over at me. “Is it?”
“Sometimes. Life’s not always one big plan.”
She huffs a soft laugh. “You’ve always been better at winging it.”
“I’m not winging anything,” I say, then amend, “Well… not most things.”
My voice goes tight. Stupid. Too revealing.
I glance at her. She’s studying me the way she used to when we were teenagers. She’s trying to read every layer I’m not saying out loud.
Dangerous.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Faith
December 28th
Spurs Diner looks exactlythe same and completely different at the same time.
The red door is still chipped around the handle. The big front windows are still foggy from the heat inside. The neon horseshoe sign flickers when the wind hits it just right. But I haven’t stepped through this door in years.
Dallas holds the door open for me, his shoulder brushing mine as we step inside. It’s casual. Automatic. The kind of thing that shouldn’t mean anything.
