I’m laughing so hard I can barely breathe.
“Then I peaced out,” she finishes. “Didn’t see the point in sticking around to watch the meltdown. But, Beth—it was legendary.”
I wipe my eyes. “Thank you, Lori. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She softens. “Always, B. You know that.”
For a minute, all I hear is our breathing. Then she asks quietly, “So, what now?”
I glance around the room, at the handmade quilt, the chipped dresser, the silence. I twist the edge of a pillow in my fist. “I honestly don’t know.”
“Whatever you do, I’ll back your play,” she says. “But don’t run just because you’re scared. Not this time.”
I let out a shaky breath. “I’ll try.”
“Good. Now, get some actual sleep. For real. No doomscrolling or self-blame fests tonight.”
A ghost of a smile. “Night, Lori.”
“Night, babe.”
I set the phone aside when the call ends, ready to let exhaustion claim me. My body feels heavier than it has in weeks, and my head is finally quiet.
Beneath the covers, something like safety settles around me.
As I drift toward sleep, one thing lingers in my mind.
Jack.
CHAPTER SIX
JACK
I barely slept last night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Beth—her uncertain gaze, the catch of her breath when I kissed her forehead, the way she looked at me like I was the only steady thing in a shifting world.
I told myself I should keep my distance. Let her settle in. Don’t complicate things. But there’s something about her that calls to a part of me I hadn’t realized was missing until she stood on my porch.
Now she’s just down the hall, and my thoughts won’t let me rest.
Morning slips through the blinds. The house is silent except for the groan of the floorboards and the fridge’s steady hum. Six thirty-two. Too early to be turning things over in my mind, but it’s useless to fight.
I need to do something, anything, before I drive myself crazy.
I pull on a clean shirt and jeans and grab my keys. The bakery will be open. If I hurry, I can pick up donuts and be back before Beth wakes.
Maybe it’s silly, donuts for breakfast, like I’m trying to impress her, but I don’t care. After yesterday, she deserves a soft landing.
The scent of cinnamon fills the cab as I drive home, a white bakery bag riding shotgun. Patty didn’t even ask questions, just smiled that knowing small-town grin and handed me the bag. “Tell her welcome,” she said.
Small towns don’t keep secrets.
I stash the donuts on the kitchen counter. Seven fifteen. Still no sound from Beth’s room.
I stand for a moment outside her door, uncertainty prickling at the edge of my resolve. I rap gently.
No answer.
