Page 335 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

I tell her about graduation.

We laugh about professors we'd both sworn secretly survived on caffeine and intimidation.

She fills me in on mutual friends.

I realize how much I've missed hearing her laugh in person instead of through a phone speaker.

Somewhere between our second cups of coffee and mooning over the blueberry muffins, she grows quiet.

She studies me over the rim of her mug.

She smiles gently. "You used to call me after exams."

"I remember."

"You'd tell me how many chapters you still had to study."

I laugh. "That sounds exhausting."

"It was."

She points toward me. "Today we've talked about Briar Cove."

I nod.

"The bakery."

Another nod.

"Coach."

"Mm-hmm."

"Becca."

"The lake."

"The little bookstore."

I smile.

"The coffee shop."

She leans forward. "And not one exam."

The words make me pause.

I wrap both hands around my mug, letting its warmth seep into my fingers.

For a long moment I simply watch the sunlight dancing across the lake.

Then I smile. "I think..." My voice comes out softer than I expect. "I think I'm finally finished surviving."

Neither of us speaks. I don't think she needs to. She knows exactly what I mean.

For years every decision has been about getting through the next assignment.

The next semester. The next rotation. The next test.