Page 10 of Sweet Valentine
Colton raises a brow. His breath fogs palpably, the chill even brisker now that afternoon’s begun to melt into twilight. “Besides the obvious?”
Laughing lightly, Patty suggests, “No, like… The deeper meanings. People just toss things like this out. ‘Be Mine’ and ‘True Love’ — and words are just words. Obviously. Harmless. Until they aren’t. Then theymeansomething.” She pauses, and pivots to catch him looking at her with such raw reverence she forgets what to do with her hands. It’s thickly that she adds, “Maybe I’m just old fashioned too, I don’t know. I overthink, as if there’s such a thing. All I know is – every time I pick one up, it just makes me wonder how many people have traded an identical one in different parts of the world and not meant it. Or cared about meaning it.”
Colton pauses for a beat. He approaches slowly, silently. His eyes scan the ground as they walk. “It’s not overthinking. It’s true,” he says finally. “Though I’m hardly the poster child for normal takes on loyalty, for obvious reasons. The fact is that people do toss out those things. People can give things to other people without realizing the weight of what they’re handing over sometimes. A lot of the time, maybe.”
“Like what?” she questions, fascinated.
Colton is quiet again. She wonders if his mouth would taste like blood if she kissed him, given how often he bites his tongue. But it means something to her, when he still tells her, “Stuff like ‘forever,’ I guess.”
“You really think that’s just a word?” Patty asks.
Colton nods to the snowy path their boots imprint across. “Depends on who’s saying it,” he allows. “Not everyone understands a promise when they make it. Not everyone cares.”
It’s a callous view of the world, Patty thinks. She wasn’t a cynic—but she finds it fascinating that he is one, though perhaps not incurably. Patty smiles, her hand lingering by the scattered candy. She doesn’t toss another piece this time but instead turns to Colton, intrigued. “Trust, huh? More important than love?”
Colton’s gaze doesn’t waver as he answers. “Yeah. Trust is everything. I don’t give it easily. It would be stupid to, after being burned.” His voice softens as he adds, “But that’s where I am.”
Patty hums in agreement. “Same.”
Patty nods along, humming agreement. “Same.”
“Jonah?” Colton asks. She bites her lip, confirming. “Yeah. Jonah.” There is no pang when she says his name. At least, the pain isn’t piercing. It’s a duller throb of a bone that’s healed, but still aches every time it rains. Patty finds herself wanting to say more—not because Colton pushes for it, but because he leaves her room to fill if it is her prerogative to do so—and when he’s already poured out so much to her today; how can she not pour back? “I wasn’t always this confident cool chick. You know the weird girl who ate her hair in the back of class in the Breakfast Club? That was more my territory. And then high school was over and I grew into myself. It’s all good. It was better than good when the once upon a time captain of the football team asked me out. I loved him. And I really thought we had something very evolved and real. But when it came down to it, if I wasn’t alwaysthere, always catering, it wasn’t enough. That’s a – love I’m not interested in. It’s flimsy.”
“You deserve any kind of love you want,” Colton says firmly. Patty beams at him. Almost, she adds something snarky, willing to offer him levity in exchange for his bravery today. She’s surprised when he continues, “No, seriously. If he couldn’t see what he had, that’s on him. It should never be an out of sight, out of mind thing. Look at you– how could you ever be out of mind in the first place?”
Her beam softens to a candlelight intimacy. For a moment, Patty is perfectly glad to walk beside him in silence. It’s unmissable, the sharp hitch of her breath when the back of his hand grazes her—and Colton is the one who leaps, reaching out and tangling their fingers together for real. He adds in a squeeze for good measure. Patty squeezes back.
This time, it’s him who bends down to grab a piece of candy. “Call Me,” Colton reads out the message.
“Think one’s too outdated, Mr. Old Fashioned?”
“No ma’am,” he snorts. “Still counts so long as phones exist.”
Nodding seriously, she holds open her pocket for him to drop it into. It clacks like a seashell with the others. “So,” Patty falls back into step with him, matching him stride for languorous stride, “which one would you choose? Out of all of them.”
Colton comes to a standstill, not answering right away. But he looks at her in a way that makes her certain he has an answer. It’s just one he’s afraid to say out loud. Patty reminds him again, “You don’t have to be afraid of me.” Only a few words, and she can see the way they make him braver. They let him admit, tenderly, “`Trust Me.` Not because I’m asking you to, but… BecauseI’mtrying to.”
Her heart takes hope and runs with it, picking up the pace as the rhythm turns jump rope levels of skipping. “I’d pick that one too,” she admits.
They squeeze each other’s hands at the same time, startling a laugh out of both their mouths.
COLTON
Eventually, the trail leads them to a picnic table. With a checkered blanket spread across it, and to-go boxes with Loretta’s Diner’s symbol on top, and candles lit in the middle, all the brighter in the last dregs of afternoon light—there’s no way to miss that this isn’t an accident. “I think,” Colton announces, deadpan, “we are being set up.”
Beside him, Patty bursts into laughter. Her hand doesn’t relinquish its grip on his, and he turns into her shaking; her body leans into his with an ease neither expect yet both welcome. She smells divine, he thinks. “You don’t say,” she chokes out between giggles, wiping at her eyes with the back of her free hand. “The fancy vintage candelabra wasn’t the instant giveaway? How about the way Betty Lou’s been stalking us for the past week?”
She could get as sassy as she wanted with him. He remains caught up in the free, easy tide of her laughter; just the sound of which had unbundled the bundle of tension in his chest. Whether it was the absurdity of the townsfolk, or the exhaustion from their wandering and arguing and wandering some more, Colton doesn’t know. He just thinks that sound softens the world in their vicinity. He knows it heals something inside of him every time he earns it.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying being a town puppet,” Colton sasses back, without any bite to the words. He sits down, crossed arms stacking on top of the table.
Happily, Patty agrees, “Oh, I totally am. But, I’m starving, too, so… Now, I’d like to be a well-fed puppet. Please tell me that there's a cheeseburger in here and nothing that actually requires us to use silverware?” Colton didn’t know how she had to ask. He can smell the rich, meaty smell of the burger bun already.Besides which Loretta’s menu was small and targeted; it didn’t do too much, so whatever it did, it did extremely well.
Patty picks up the thermos to the side, shaking it experimentally. The liquid sounds too thick and viscous to be a beverage. Not water, or even coffee. “Soup,” Patty says, uncapping and taking a big whiff of the decadent steam that wafted off the dishes.
“They really went all out with this, didn’t they?” Colton huffs, his eyes settling on the envelope precariously attached to the dramatic and ornate candelabra.
She leans her own elbows on the table, brows wagging up and down in succession three times. “Let’s open it? Last one.”
