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Looking around, I realize I’m not even hungry. I just want to be near her, follow Mr. Hebert’s advice.
“I guess you’re right.” Optimism won’t let me go, and I search for an alternative. “Want to go for a walk?”
Her answer is hesitant, but encouraging. “They opened this new coffee shop right down from my apartment.”
“I heard about that. Dewey Sanders opened it. He hired a bunch of high schoolers to run the place.”
She laughs. “So the service will probably suck, but it’s worth a try?”
“I’ll follow you.”
We park in front of her apartment downtown, and I wait as she leaves things at her place. The sun shines in a clear blue sky, making a chilly day warm. We’re walking side by side, and I want to take her hand. I want to pull her close and slide her hair off her cheek. I want to kiss her. She’s letting me in, but I’m not going to rush it.
The coffee place is decked out for the holidays, playing much more recent Christmas music. The kids behind the counter all wear antler headbands and blinking red noses, and the service actually is pretty good.
We’re out on the street sipping hot beverages and looking in the windows of the tiny downtown department stores. Everything is fake snow and Santa Claus, elves, sleds and reindeer.
“Mm…” Mindy sips her cinnamon cookie latte. “I think I’ve found my new addiction.”
“Good?” I just ordered a plain coffee. I’m not into the fancy stuff.
“It’s delicious.” She takes another sip and makes
a noise that has me missing her sexy body.
Reluctantly, I pull the reins on those thoughts. I have to take it slow. We stroll a little farther up the street, stopping in front of a window decorated with couples holding hands, ice skating on lakes.
“I thought of you every day I was in Nashville.” My chest aches as I remember lying in my bed at night, thinking of her, hearing Taron’s words, She’s your reason to fight. My longing for her then was as intense as it is now. “We never talked about what happened.”
“We never talked about anything you did.” I see her reflection in the glass, honest but open.
I hesitate a moment, then I just say it. “I want to.”
Turning, she looks up at me, her pretty green eyes glistening and warm. “Me too.”
Quickly tossing my coffee in the trash, I take her hand in mine, threading our fingers. Then I stop, worried. “Is this okay?”
She looks down at her hand in mine, palm against palm, a sensation I’ve missed so much. “Yes.”
The one word I’ve been waiting to hear. My shoulders relax and we start to walk again.
“We made this pact when we were kids that we’d always have each other.”
“It’s true.”
“I haven’t always lived up to it.” Looking down, I tighten my fingers around hers. “I’m sorry.”
She only nods, so I continue.
“When they sent me home, they said I’d always have PTSD, panic attacks… They said one day it would culminate in suicidal ideation.” The pain of that diagnosis still aches in my chest. “After what happened with my dad, I guess I believed them.”
We continue walking, her heels click on the pavement, but she doesn’t say anything. I feel the warmth radiating from her skin, but she’s letting me speak.
“The time I spent in Nashville was intense.” Filtering through the six months, I remember how hard I worked. “Dr. Curtis is the therapist who worked with Taron. She takes a very aggressive approach. She’s not afraid to try new techniques—brainspotting, TM, talk therapy. She knew what I wanted, and she was determined to help me.”
“I like her already.” Mindy looks up at me, and her smile is one I know so well. It’s the smile she would give me when we were younger, and the one she’d make when I kissed her gently.
She’s coming back to me.
