Page 53 of Within These County Lines

But before we can make a break for it, the kitchen door swings open.

“Hey!” The waitress stomps toward us, balancing a fresh pink milkshake on her tray. “I just made this. Where do you think you are going? You need to pay!”

Xander grabs my wrist, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I don’t second-guess what happens next. I just run with him.

I trip over his heels as we dart toward the exit. My palms press his back, urging him to move faster. At the door, he fumbles with the handle, his focus flickering between me and the furious waitress gaining on us.

She can’t see him, so he’s not running from anyone, but I can tell he’s enjoying pretending to live again.

25

Xander doesn’t let go of my hand as we leave the Bean. He moves me through the parking lot as yellow streetlamps flash on and cast buttery spotlights along empty sidewalks.

His gaze stays fixed ahead while mine studies the dark hairs and freckles scattered across his tan arm. Our fingers are laced in a way that still feels unfamiliar, like shiny hubcaps on an old tire. It’s nothing like the grip I’ve known for the last three years that pulled me in all the wrong directions.

“I think we’re in the clear,” I say through a laugh. I stop myself and drop his hold because, regardless of what I’m feeling, to anyone else it looks like I’m getting dragged through town by an invisible dog.

Xander turns and his eyes go wide. He points over my shoulder. “Think again!” he shouts. “Apparently the waitress is a better track star than you and she’s got a pie with your name on it.”

“What?” I choke out.

Before I can even look back, Xander grabs my shoulders and pushes me past the post office and down a hill that slopes into the Penango River.

We crouch on the damp dirt, just where the water glides over smooth rocks and seeps into the soles of my shoes. I peek up at the street, half hidden behind Xander’s arms, waiting for the menacing, pie-wielding waitress to run past our escape route, but no one comes. The streetlamps buzz. The road is empty.

Xander falls back, laughing. “You look so scared,” he says.

I narrow my eyes. “Did you just make that up?” I ask.

He nods, one hand clutching his shaking stomach.

I exhale. “Why would you do that?”

“It’s fun getting chased.”

My body tenses. There was a time recently when being chased didn’t feel fun at all.

Xander notices my expression change and swallows his laughter. He grabs my hand, then puts it on his chest. “Do you feel that?” His heart beats quickly beneath my palm. “I haven’t felt that too much over the past ten years. Now with you, I’m feeling it almost every day.”

I look down and swallow hard.

“Don’t worry, Stetson,” he continues. “I would’ve intercepted the pie if the waitress was actually after you.”

I finally crack a smile. “You’re like my invisible bodyguard.”

“Hopefully I’m more than that.” He winks.

Then he stands, peels off his shirt, and tosses it over my head before wading into the river. “Let’s swim!”

I slowly drag his shirt off my face and over my nose, taking in the scents of sweat and pine clinging to the cotton. The water curls around Xander’s calves like a cat greeting its owner. He glances back, smiles brightly, and waves me in.

But my feet stay planted on the cool stones along the shoreline. I dig my toes into the earth.

“What’s wrong?” Xander asks. “Was it the prank? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out.” He crawls toward me in the shallow river.

I shake my head. “It’s not that. My stomach is just off from the milkshake.”