“I don’t know yet,” I admit, my voice quieter.
She leans back against the wall, arms crossed. “Do you believe God gives us signs? Like little kicks in our butts to make us face things we’d rather ignore?”
I smile. With her, I never know what’s going to come out of her beautiful mouth.
“Because I’ve been avoiding making a decision about my business for months. Then, last night, I had this crazy dream that my boss fired me because I set the gala on fire. And this morning, while I was in line at the grocery store, I overheard a woman on the phone looking for an event planner for her daughter’s sweet sixteen.
Her eyes find mine. “Then there’s you.”
She lets out a sigh, her tone shifting. “Jacob thought I was insane when I brought it up. Shut me down without even listening.”
“Definitely not insane.” I shake my head. “Most people are too distracted—or too bitter—focusing on everything that’s wrong to notice when something good is trying to find them. But the more positive you are, the more good things you attract.” I pause, forcing the words out. “And the opposite is just as true. That’s why I don’t let my brother’s death consume me. Maybe it’s also why I want nothing to do with the ranch or my father. I won’t let that time in my life define me.”
A part of me would love to keep the ranch. But saying it out loud would make it real, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.
Her smile falters as though my words are landing harder than either of us expected. Like she understands what it’s like trying to let go of something you secretly want to hold onto.
She tilts her head. “And you’re sure that’s what you want? Because it felt like you belonged there, riding with your eyes closed as though you memorized the land.”
I let out a dry laugh.
“So… what’s it like being all sunshine and smiles?” she asks, unexpectedly.
Smiles, maybe—I’m good at flashing those. Sunshine? I should laugh, toss out some sarcastic remark about always having it together. But the words don’t come out.
“Sunshine?” I echo, my voice quieter now. “Not even close.”
Her teasing fades, replaced by that same sharp curiosity in her eyes that always leaves me exposed. She waits, her silence demanding more. I clear my throat, sipping my coffee, grasping for a way to pull back.
“Come on,” she presses, her elbow brushing mine. The sparks from her touch start to unravel me. “You’re always smiling. And you never seem to let anything affect you, despite whatever you’ve been through. What’s your secret?”
I glance at her. “I don’t have one,” I mutter, then look away as my mind drags me somewhere I’d rather not go. All I can see is that day. I should deflect—I’m good at that. Say something stupid. Make a joke. Kiss her.
Fuck, how I want to kiss her again.
Instead, I pull in a slow breath. “I’m just trying to keep it together the only way I know. And I….”
She doesn’t push. But she doesn’t pull away either. Her patience—her steady persistence—is damn near unbearable. And yet, I crave it. Crave her.
I clench my jaw. “It doesn’t matter.” I should let it go. But she’s still watching me, waiting.
She rests her hand lightly against my shoulder. And it feels good.
“It does matter,” she says firmly, her eyes on mine.
I hesitate again, then the words rush out anyway like they always do with her. Because somewhere along the way, she became a friend. Maybe more.
“My older brother and I… we were close for a while, despite the big age gap. When our parents divorced, we ended up in separate worlds. My brother stayed with our dad, who was, well you know, an abusive, alcoholic cheating asshole who treated my mom like garbage.”
I hesitate, realizing I’m toeing the same damn line. Maybe not with all of it, but with her.
“I stayed with our mom,” I continue. “Told myself it wasn’t my choice, that I was just a kid. But I knew, even then, that my brother got the worst of it. And my mom wasn’t perfect, but at least she was there. When I was old enough, she asked me to take her last name, Hayes. It felt right at the time, since I wanted nothing to do with my father—or his name.”
I pause, the pressure of my next words pushing down on me. I don’t have to say this. But the way she’s looking at me, like she sees through my bullshit, through all the pieces I keep hidden, makes it almost impossible to stop.
“We talked on birthdays, the occasional holiday. Enough to pretend we weren’t strangers anymore. But those calls were never enough to bridge the distance between us or erase his bitterness after I chose my mom over him.” My fingers squeeze the cup tighter. “When I reconnected with my brother as a teenager, he was different. Always angry, punching walls, breaking shit. Then his friends pulled us into drinking and drugs. I was only fourteen. But it was our escape. Our way of dealing with the mess our family left behind. And I wasn’t there for him when it mattered most.”
Jenna doesn’t say a word. She’s just there, listening. But I can’t bring myself to meet her eyes. I rake my hand through my hair, letting out a hollow smile. I shouldn’t be in a relationship. She knows this. I know this. So why does whatever this is between us feel like the only real thing I’ve ever had?
