Page 16

That makes him smile. “Betty’s is always open.”

“Smoky Mountain Fudge?”

“Hmm, all right. But you’re paying.”

He always says I’m paying, and yet he never lets me pay, so I just nod. “Sure, Jan.”

The truck goes right past the property’s gates, and I feel a massive weight off my shoulders. At least now we’re not boxed into shouting out what we’re thinking before we have to go our separate ways.

After driving to town, the fall leaf colors starting to brighten the branches of the tall oak trees on our way, we pull into the Betty’s drive-through and a monotone voice breaks up over the speakers.

“Welco—t—Betty’s. Wha—can…get you?”

Knox answers for us both. “Two cones of blueberry lemon sorbet turned upside down in a cup—”

“With no—”

“With no whipped cream or dairy at all,” Knox finishes for me and winks over his shoulder.

Once we get our cones, the sorbet already starting to drip down my hand, Knox parks the car in our usual spot. We like to people-watch, so we always park where we have a good view of the town square, which is actually more of an oval.

“I never answered your question earlier,” he says around his spoon.

“What question?

“You asked if I’ve dated. I haven’t.”

That shouldn’t be a shock, as I’d never heard of him and another girl being together, but also…look at him. That shaggy blond hair, his lean, long torso and even longer legs. Clothes always covered in dirt and fingers stained from the oil of the engines he’s worked on. Those freckles scattered around his cheeks, the cute tan line on his upper biceps after working in the sun all day. It’s pretty clear if he wanted a girlfriend, Knox would easily have one.

My brain stutters. “What?”

He shrugs, casual, but the tips of his ears turn pink. “Never dated. Not officially. Not for real.”

“But—girls like you,” I blurt. “When you were in school, they stared at you all the time. They whisper. They—”

“That’s not dating,” he says quickly. “That’s just…noise.”

“Huh.” Just noise.

He glances over at me, a little hint of sorbet still on his lips—there’s probably a giant smear of it across my cheeks. Knox used to joke that I eat my sorbet like a honey badger. I don’t know if he’s ever realized he’s just as bad, but I never say anything. It’s fun to see the leftovers across his mouth.

Something boyish and vulnerable flickers across his face. “I was just going to say that if you think you’re the only one who has no idea what they’re doing, you’re not.”

Warmth spreads through my chest—relief, maybe.

“Okay,” I whisper. “That’s good.”

“Is it?”

“It’s always good to not be alone in something.”

“You haven’t been alone since the day I saw you stealing water at the creek.” He smiles.

I know exactly what he means. Even during the weeklong span where we didn’t talk this summer, I was never fully alone. If I needed him, he would have come. Actually, when I needed him, he did come.

“Borrowing,” I correct him.

“Borrowing.” Knox nods. “Right.”