“Let's just say my marriage wasn't the supportive partnership I hoped it would be.”
Lincoln reaches out, his hand hesitating in the air before gently touching my arm. “I’m sorry, Heather. You deserve someone who sees your strength and stands beside you.”
Our eyes meet, and for a heart-stopping moment, I see the reflection of my own longing in his gaze. The desire for connection, for understanding—for something that might have been and could still be.
“That means a lot, coming from you.”
“Always.” His thumb brushes against my skin.
“Lincoln, I—” My sentence is cut short as a boisterous voice erupts from behind me.
“Lincoln Montgomery! Is that really you?”
His eyes shift over my shoulder toward the source of the interruption. A tall man with a linebacker’s build and an infectious grin claps a hand on Lincoln's shoulder, jostling us apart.
“Mike Henderson. It's been years.”
“Too many, my friend!” Mike booms, oblivious to the moment he just trampled. “You've got to tell me everything. Houston treating you well?”
“Ah, yeah, it's been good,” Lincoln replies, shooting me a look that mingles apology with reluctance.
“Sorry, Heather.” His eyes linger on mine for a split second longer than necessary before he turns back to Mike. “Want to meet at Page Turners tomorrow around three for coffee?”
“I’d love that. See you then.”
I watch them for a moment, Mike animatedly slapping Lincoln's back as they wander away, their heads bent in conversation.
I catch Lincoln glancing back once, his deep eyes finding mine. Our gazes hold.
Instead of sticking around, I slip out of the gym and head home, still on a high from seeing Lincoln again.
Chapter Four
Heather
Ipush open the door to Page Turners. Lawson Ridge might be small, but our cozy little coffee shop is its beating heart, especially on a chilly Sunday afternoon.
“Hey, Heather!” called out Jenna. “The usual?”
“Make it a large today,” I reply, smiling gratefully at the thought of extra caffeine running through my veins.
My eyes dart around the bustling space as I wait, taking in the comforting chaos. The baristas dances a well-rehearsed ballet behind the counter, frothing milk and pouring shots of espresso with an effortless grace.
“Here you go. On the house.”
“You're a lifesaver.” I turn, cup cradles in my hands, and there he is. Lincoln Montgomery stands by the window, a figure straight out of my past yet very much in the present—tall, dark-haired, his deep eyes scanning the room until they find mine.
“Shall we?” He gestures to a table with a view outside where the golden leaves of autumn clung stubbornly to the branches, refusing to fall despite the season's insistence.
“Perfect spot.” My nerves settle as I follow him, noticing the way his shoulders move with a quiet confidence. I remind myself this is just coffee, just catching up. But as I sit down, looking intothose soulful eyes, I can't shake the feeling that maybe it is more. Maybe it can be more.
I watch Lincoln pull out the chair across from me, the simple act somehow graceful, intentional. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, a nervous habit I thought I left behind in high school. “So, you enjoying being back in town?”
“Lawson Ridge does have its charms. Especially in fall.”
I fiddle with the ceramic handle of my mug. Across from me, Lincoln sips his own drink.
“Remember when we tried to start the astronomy club?”
