25 | Drivin’ off
CLEMENTINE
Life with Colton is easy.
And that makes everything difficult.
Three days I’ve been at his place now—three days of early mornings, good sex, and quiet coexisting.
The job interview is tomorrow—an opportunity I should be excited about. Hell, I would’ve been just a few weeks ago. But things are different now.
The house has gone soft and still, the way it does every night.
Colt’s asleep on the couch, one arm hanging off the side.
I can’t help but smile looking at him—the poor guy was exhausted, and still insisted on sitting with me until I was ready to go to bed.
He was out like a light the second his head hit the pillow, as usual.
I should wake him and go to bed. I was going to—but instead, I’m sitting at the kitchen table with my laptop open, the screen the only light in the house. The website stares back at me, proud and inviting:
‘Bluebonnet State – Agriculture Animal Sciences.’
I trace the edge of the keyboard with my finger, grinning like a damn fool.
It’s been hours since I started clicking through course lists—animal anatomy, farm management, basic biology—but I can’t seem to stop.
My chest feels tight with something that’s not anxiety for once.
Hope, maybe. Or that old kind of excitement I used to get as a kid when Tessa and I would sneak into the barns to watch the newborn calves.
I glance toward the living room again. Colt shifts in his sleep, murmuring something I can’t make out. The sight of him there—chest rising and falling, face soft and unguarded—makes my heart twist. He looks so at peace here.
And for the first time in years, I think maybe I could be too.
I click another tab open: ‘Veterinary Technician Requirements’. Then ‘Pre-Veterinary Coursework’. Then, ‘Volunteering at Large Animal Clinics’.
Each new page makes my pulse kick a little harder.
My father would lose his mind if he knew.
“We don’t fit in here, Clementine. We’re city people, you and I. You need room to breathe. To grow. To live up to your full potential.”
I can practically hear his voice, see the love in his eyes when he said it. I swallow hard and shake my head to clear it.
He’s not here. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.
I jot down a few notes—course codes, enrollment dates, local clinics—then shut the laptop. I walk to the back door and take a deep breath.
It’s cooler tonight. The crickets hum in the distance and stars glitter bright above me.
It’s like the quiet night sky returns a piece of me I thought I’d lost forever.
I stay there a moment longer, then shut the door, lock it, and turn on my heel. A soft smile curves my lips as I walk toward Colt.
Time to take my man to bed.
----
“There really is no point in you coming along if all you’re gonna do is sleep.”
I cut Savannah a look. She’s curled up in the passenger seat, hood up, sunglasses on, looking like she barely survived a frat party.
“Stop yellin’,” she groans, pressing both hands to her ears. “I’m hungover and jet-lagged.”
I roll my eyes, easing to a stop at a red light. “Which is exactly why I should just take you home. To your new husband.”
She lifts her head half an inch, squinting at me from behind her shades. “Please. We’ve been cooped up together twenty-four seven these past weeks. I love him, but if we don’t get some alone time, this marriage will be over before it even begins.”
The light turns green. “Tell me about your honeymoon.”
Savannah grimaces like I’ve suggested doing karaoke for the rest of the trip. “Later. I’ll barf if I talk too much right now. I’m in a listenin’ mood. So—care to tell me why Colton McGraw dropped you off at the butt crack of dawn?”
My cheeks heat instantly. “You know, it’s a long drive. I figured we’d head out early so we—”
She drops her sunglasses just enough to give me a look. “You know damn well that’s not what I meant, Clementine.”
I keep my eyes locked on the road, pretending the asphalt’s the most interesting thing I’ve seen all week. “I’ve been staying at his place while renovations happen at Marg’s.”
That gets her attention. She turns her head, both eyes open now. “Ah, yes. The logical choice. If I needed a place to stay, I’d also pick my ex–best friend’s older brother—the one who broke my heart. Not, say, my cousin’s spare room. Or my aunt’s perfectly good guesthouse.”
I gasp. “I forgot your mom has a guesthouse!”
Savannah winces, clutching her head. “Not so loud! And yes—but don’t pretend that would’ve changed a damn thing, you slut.”
I hover my hand over the radio dial in warning. “Call me slut one more time, and I’m blasting death metal.”
Savannah’s mouth drops open. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
She sits up, slow and dramatic. “You’re a terrible cousin.”
“You’re the one calling me a slut!”
“I did it lovingly.”
I roll my eyes but can’t stop the grin creeping up. God, I’ve missed her. The banter, the nonsense, the way she cuts through all my noise like it’s nothing—it’s patching up another crack in my chest I didn’t know was still there.
Savannah fiddles with the air vent, then groans. “God, it’s hotter than sin in here. I swear this state’s tryin’ to kill me.”
“And you had us dance in this weather. In heels.”
“Girl.” Savannah looks me over. “No one expected you to show up in heels. Who wears stilettos to a wedding?”
I huff, indignant. “Dress code said cocktail. Didn’t think you meant a cocktail of corn whiskey and moonshine.”
“Oh, I’m sorry—should I have gone for a cosmopolitan theme?”
“That would’ve been nice, yes.”
She weakly swats at my arm, grinning. “Don’t act like you didn’t have a good time, Clem. I saw you twirlin’ around barefoot like a happy little ballerina.”
“Corn whiskey will do that to a girl.”
Savannah tips her head back, closing her eyes. “This heat is unfair, though. Maui had ocean breezes and massages. This place has… cow fumes.”
“Technically, methane.”
She shoots me a sideways look. “Don’t get all science-y on me now. You start talkin’ about cow digestion and I will hurl in this car.”
“Duly noted.”
She sighs dramatically, fanning herself with an old road map she found in Marg’s glove compartment.
“Alright, fine. Let’s circle back to the part where Colton McGraw—local legend, heartbreak extraordinaire—dropped you off lookin’ like the patron saint of bad decisions. What exactly’s goin’ on there?”
I contemplate shrugging it off—saying it’s just casual. A summer fling. Lying to her like I’ve been lying to myself. But it’s Savannah.
“I don’t know.” It’s all I can manage without screaming or crying or ripping out my hair.
“Ah,” she says, understanding as always. “Well, for what it’s worth, you look happy, Clemmie. Happier than you have in years.”
I swallow, watching the horizon roll past—endless fields, fences, that faint mirage shimmering on the asphalt. “Yeah,” I murmur. “I guess I am.”
Savannah smiles faintly, satisfied, and slumps back against the seat. “Good. You deserve that, Clem. I’ll stop grillin’ you now.”
I snort. “No, you won’t.”
She grins. “You’re right, I won’t. So—does he ride as well as he looks like he does?”
“Savannah!”
“What? I meant horseback, nasty.”
“You did not!”
Her laughter fills the truck, loud enough to make her flinch and clutch her head, and I can’t help but laugh with her.
Then she schools her features and turns to me. “So, this job interview…”
I swallow hard, locking eyes with her. “Hardest decision ever.”
----
How do you think the interview will go? Will it make things harder? ????