“Let me guess,” she says, swallowing. “You cheated?”
I shake my head slowly. “No. I got lucky. I pulled your name. Which meant I got to leave right after you.”
Her breath catches, a tiny intake of air that hits me straight in the heart.
“You weren’t exactly quiet,” I tease gently, a smile pulling at my lips. “You tore through the back meadow like a hurricane. Footsteps snapping twigs, little yelps every time your feet sank in mud. I found you easy.”
Her smile grows, eyes shining.
“But I didn’t go straight to you,” I add, my voice softening. “I waited. Watched from about ten feet back, hidden behind that old, twisted oak. You were crouched low, Nerf gun aimed at the trees, completely focused. Hair wild. Eyes gleaming. God, you looked so alive.”
I pause for a second, letting the memory settle. “The others started to leave the house. I could hear them—Chace’s war cry, Sam yelling rules that no one was gonna follow, Trey finally being let loose was then complaining about getting dirt on his sneakers.”
She laughs quietly.
“And then I moved,” I say, watching her carefully. “Crept up behind you. Slid my arm around your waist and pulled you back against me. You squealed—nearly clocked me with the Nerf gun.”
Her smile is so big now, I swear it could light up the whole damn room.
“And then I said…” I let the silence stretch just a beat. “You got me, angel? We take them out together?”
Her eyes mist over, the memory coming into full bloom. “And I said… How do you always find me?”
“Damn right you did.” My throat tightens as I study her. “And I told you… it was because I never stopped looking.”
She sets her fork down, blinking fast.
And for a moment, we’re not sitting in her quiet kitchen.
We’re back there, in the meadow. Laughter in the air. Nerf guns in hand. Her body against mine. Braden somewhere in the trees, probably yelling something inappropriate. The boys charging like idiots. And her—always her—looking at me like I’m something special.
Our moment is interrupted by three hard raps at the front door. Not tentative. Not friendly. Just… sharp.
The sound pulls me out of the past like a whip crack.
Mac’s hand slips from mine as she turns her head, frowning toward the front of the house.
I stand slowly, my chair scraping the floor, pulse kicking up for a reason I can’t name. “I’ll get it.”
I head to the door, rubbing the back of my neck as I swing it open.
A familiar figure I haven’t seen in a few months, since I came here looking for Mac, leans against the frame.
Lola.
Her black hair’s pulled into a too-tight ponytail, thick hoops weighing down her ears. There’s a swipe of red lipstick that feels aggressive more than polished. She's dressed like she expected company—or wanted to make a statement. Either way, it’s jarring this early. Her smile is painted on, but the eyes—those are wild. Unsettled.
“Logan,” she says, her voice smooth but lacking warmth.
“Morning, Lola. You off to work?” I ask.
“Sure,” She grumbles, barely looking at me. Classic Lola—mornings have never been her thing. She stands there stiff as hell, like just being upright is a personal offense. Her whole body radiates irritation, like the sun had the nerve to rise just to piss her off.
“You found her then?” she mutters, then raises her voice. “Hey Mac!”
Mac is frowning, brow pinched as she tries to place her to no success.
Braden and Lola dated on and off for a few years, but it was never serious for Braden. I knew that. Hell, she knew that. He tried to end things more than once, but Lola always found a way to reel him back in. A sudden crisis. A family problem. A surprise at his door. She was good at playing victim when it suited her. Braden never wanted to hurt people, so he stayed longer than he should have.