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Of course, the second I slide behind the wheel, my brain decides now would be a great time to point out all the reasons this is a terrible idea.

“This is stupid. I should go back to my room, not drive into town just to see if Milo is still there. Which he won’t be. I mean, he’s not deranged. Any sensible person would realize they’ve been stood up after ten minutes and leave.”

And yet, I turn the ignition anyway.

“What the hell are you doing?” I mutter as I pull out of the B&B parking lot.

Apparently, talking some sense into myself isn’t working, because instead of turning around, I keep going.

“Do you have no self-preservation whatsoever?”

Apparently not.

“He’s not there. Go home, Max. We’ve all grown up. He has his life, and you have yours. He’s not going to wait around all night for your idiotic ass to show up. Come on. Be for real.”

I keep driving.

“It’s not too late. You can still turn around. Seriously, what the hell are you doing?”

My heart picks up speed as I reach Main Street.

“Okay. Fine. It’s your funeral. Maybe this is what you need to get some closure. Perhaps seeing with your own eyes that Milo is not there will finally prove that whatever you two had ended years ago. That there’s nothing left to go back to.”

My chest aches at the thought.

“Fine, then. Have it your way. Any second now. Just a few more…”

The words die on my tongue as I drive past the spot where the Roys’ garage used to be and see someone leaning against the brick wall beside the Cushmans’ diner. Even from across the street, with his face hidden in shadow, I know.

My heart leaps into my throat just as my headlights sweep over him.

Milo.

I swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat and pull into a parking spot across the street.

A quick glance at the dashboard tells me it’s ten minutes to one.

He’s been waiting for me for almost an hour.

An hour.

Maybe that’s why I can’t bring myself to get out of the car. Instead, I sit there with both hands wrapped around the steering wheel, staring at him through the windshield.

What now? What the hell do I do now?

The sensible thing would be to get out of the car. Then again, sensible choices don’t exactly seem to be my strong suit tonight.

Before I can decide what to do, Milo takes the decision out of my hands. He crosses the street and opens my passenger door.

“Hi,” he says, one arm draped over the top of it as he ducks his head inside. “Are we going for a ride?”

“Why the hell not?” I reply dryly.

He lets out a quiet chuckle, and just like that, some of the tension coiled inside me eases.

Milo always had that effect on me. One laugh, and suddenly I can breathe again.

Damn him for still knowing how to do that.