Epilogue
Not long after getting back to Green Valley, Noah and Carla came to our place for dinner. The house was cozy now, much nicer than the first night I’d come over and Cy had cooked burgers. Cy, Gemma, and I had turned it into our home.
The evening Noah and Carla came for dinner, Gemma had gone to one of her friend’s houses for a sleepover, so it was just the four of us there to enjoy one of Cy’s delicious taco nights. And after dinner, we took Noah and Carla to the clearing beside the river where Cy had built a firepit. We lit a fire, laid down blankets and cushions, and roasted marshmallows over the dancing flames while Zeppelin bounded around, exploring the woods.
Cy and I were sharing a blanket. He leaned against some cushions with a log holding him up, while I snuggled against his chest. From where we sat, we could see past the fire, over the river, to where the trees stood out against the setting sun.
I glanced to a cluster of trees on this side of the river. “Over there is the shed where I found Cy’s father’s drugs,” I told Carla and Noah. They screwed their heads around to peer toward it, searching for it in the gloom.
“You see the gnarled bit of that tree?” Cy pointed. “Underneath it, you should be able to make out the door handle.”
“I see it!” my sister exclaimed. She was propped up on a pile of cushions while Noah was holding a stick with marshmallows, heating them in the fire.
“So do I,” said Noah. “Is there anything in it?”
“Not anymore,” I said. “It’s empty, and a great hiding place if you have anything you want kept secret.”
Noah’s lips quirked up. “I don’t have any secrets. This book is wide open.” He pulled his marshmallows away from the flame to see whether they were getting soft, then moved them back to the heat.
“I still can’t believe you set that drug dealer up,” Carla said. “Are you going to tell Mom about it?”
“And add to my bad reputation?” I shrugged. “Why not?” Maybe it was because I felt so secure and content with Cy’s arms around me, but I didn’t want to have any more secrets, either. Like Cy, I wanted to own exactly who I was, with no lies or excuses.
Carla wrinkled her nose. “Mom can be hard on you, can’t she?”
“She thinks I’m reckless,” I said. “But that’s because of things I did years ago. It’s about time she changed her opinion.”
“It’s tempting to keep thinking of people the same way all the time.” Cy’s deep voice rumbled from his chest. “But we’re complex, and we all change.” Leaning against him, I could feel the vibrations when he spoke.
“People aren’t fractions,” Carla agreed. “When you reduce us to our simplest form, you limit our possibilities.” She smiled as though getting to use math in normal conversation was a special treat. Cy nodded, letting his math-geek flag fly, and Noah looked at her like he thought she was smart and cute.
The conversation was in serious danger of tumbling off a dork cliff, and I was the only one who could rescue it.
“In other words, nerd,” I said to my sister, “don’t label people.”
Carla laughed. “Well put, brat.”
Cy chuckled into my ear, the sound as warm as his breath. The tickling sensation sent a pleasurable shiver down my spine.
“Anyway, I don’t think you’re reckless,” Carla added. “Freud and the chickens survived your stay.” She frowned. “Only I’m not sure why I have new cushions in my living room. You still haven’t explained that.”
“The new cushions were Zeppelin’s idea. He didn’t like the old ones.”
Zeppelin must have grown tired of exploring the nearby trees, because he was lounging next to Cy and me, taking up most of our blanket, and keeping a close eye on the marshmallows. He lifted his head at the sound of his name and gave his tail a wag, sweeping it across the ground.
“I have to admit, I was in danger of being swayed by the rumors about you, Cy.” Noah looked apologetic. “I should have known better than to listen to gossip.”
“It’s okay,” Cy said. “Understandable. I’m glad you were willing to give me a chance.”
He bent his head to brush his lips across the sensitive skin of my neck, sending more tingles into my core. As much as I enjoyed spending time with my sister and Noah, the sensation made me wish we were alone so I could ask him to do it some more.
Noah pulled his marshmallows away from the fire to peer at them again. Not a moment too soon. They were singed around the edges and turning into goo. He offered the stick to Carla, and she pulled one of the marshmallows loose with her teeth.
“Hot!” she gasped with her mouth full. “Too hot!”
“Good to know.” Noah grinned. “Now I’ll be sure and blow on my one before I eat it.” He softened his teasing by leaning closer to kiss her.
Cy took their display of affection for an excuse to kiss the top of my head. One of his arms was draped over me, holding me against him. I loved the feeling of being enveloped by him, nestled into his bulk. It was especially nice to have the crackling, dancing flames in front of us and the river burbling beside us.
“Aren’t you going to tell them your news?” Cy murmured into my ear.
Carla leaned back against her cushions. “What news?”
“We were at the community center last Friday night.” I hesitated a moment, thinking of how Carla’s illness kept her from going places. “Have you been to the jam session?” I asked.
She nodded. “Once.”
“I used to go,” said Noah. “Carla finds it overwhelming. The bright lights and noise.”
“Too many people,” my sister said with a grimace.
“Some incredible musicians play there,” I said. “I got to talking to a band who want to record an album and book more shows. Long story short, they asked if I’d manage them.”
Carla’s eyes widened. “Can you manage a band? I mean, do you know how? Don’t you need a legal background?”
“I talked to Sullivan about it, the guy who manages Eric’s band. He’s not a lawyer, but he works with one. He seems to think I’d be able to do it. He actually offered to mentor me.”
“That sounds great,” said Noah. “Congratulations.”
“So great,” agreed my sister. “I’m happy for you.”
I grinned. “Thanks.” It still didn’t feel real, but the more I thought about it, the better I liked the idea. Sullivan had been enthusiastic, and I had a feeling it was going to be fun.
Cy kissed my neck. “You’ll be good at it,” he murmured. “I know you will.”
I watched Noah as he ate a hot marshmallow before giving the last one to Carla. She took it warily, then bit into it.
“It’s a bluegrass band,” I said when it was in her mouth.
Carla choked. She coughed, then pounded her chest with her fist. “Bluegrass?”
“Wait until you hear them. When their album comes out, it’s going to be huge.”
“Does that mean you’ll leave the bakery?” Noah asked.
“I’ll stay at the bakery while I get things started. This only just happened, so I’m still wrapping my head around it. And I’m not sure whether I can make a full-time living from managing a band.”
“Once you get going, more musicians will want you to manage them,” Cy said. “It’s the perfect job for you.”
I turned my face to shoot him an appreciative smile. My biggest cheerleader. With him at my back, I could do anything.
His lips kicked up. “Tell Carla and Noah what else you spoke to Sullivan about.”
“I was just about to.” I rolled my eyes at him. He was quietly gleeful about the other news Sullivan had given me, whereas I couldn’t help feeling sorry for my ex. I turned back to the others. “Eric’s been kicked out of his band.”
Carla and Noah exchanged a startled look. “How come?” Carla asked.
“Sullivan said Eric had been acting badly, getting high, fighting with his bandmates, and not turning up for shows. The band was on the point of breaking up, and they decided to replace him instead.”
“Can they replace him?” she asked.
I nodded. “Apparently the new lead singer is really talented, and so far, the fallout from their fans hasn’t been too bad. They’re recording new songs and still filling venues. So yeah, it seems like they can.”
Cy kissed my neck again. I didn’t look back to check, but I had a feeling he looked smug. I was sad that Eric had thrown away all his hard work and talent. Hopefully, he’d get the help he needed and be able to resurrect his career once he was clean.
“After everything he did to you, he didn’t deserve his success,” said Carla. “Josie would call it karma.”
“I hope Josie decides to visit us,” I said. “I suggested it last time we spoke.”
“That would be so great. Three sisters all together.” Carla smiled, her eyes warm. “I’m happy you’re staying in town, Mags. I love getting to spend time with you.”
“And you’re feeling better?” I asked.
“A little better, but I still need to manage my symptoms so I don’t crash.” She nudged Noah with her shoulder, wrinkling her nose. “Speaking of which, I’m sorry, but we shouldn’t stay too long.”
Noah nodded. “Let’s get home.” He turned to Cy. “Thanks for showing us your mushroom operation.”
“Anytime.” Cy sounded sincere, and I was glad he and Noah got on so well. I wanted to spend lots of time with my sister, especially if the four of us could hang out.
“We’ll walk you to your car,” Cy added, shifting as Noah and Carla got to their feet, so I had to lift myself off his chest.
“No need.” Noah waved him back down. “You two look comfortable. Stay here. The path is easy enough.”
I settled back against Cy’s chest, all too happy to oblige. “We’ll see you later,” I told them.
“Count on it.” Carla bent to plant a kiss on my cheek, then one on Cy’s.
After they left, I gave a contented sigh. I was only in a T-shirt, but I had the warmth of the campfire on my front and Cy’s warmth at my back. He draped his arm around me, stroking my upper arm with his fingers, his lips on my hair.
“This is nice,” he murmured. “And the stars will come out soon.”
“Will there be mosquitos?”
“The smoke will keep them away.”
“My hair is going to stink of smoke.”
“And your clothes.” Cy nuzzled the back of my ear. “Unless you take them off.”
I grinned. And though a delicious shiver was running through me, I acted surprised by his suggestion. “Take them off? Why would I do that here when we have a perfectly good bed in our bedroom.”
“The house is such a long way away.” His lips moved down to my neck, planting soft kisses against my ticklish skin. “To get you into bed would take at least five minutes. And I can’t stand the thought your clothes might smell of smoke. I need to protect them.” Putting his hand under my T-shirt, he pushed it up over my breast. Then his fingers delved underneath my bra, rubbing over my nipple.
I arched into his hand. “You’re right,” I said breathlessly. “Getting to the house would take too long.”
He pulled my T-shirt off and moved over me, pushing me back so I was lying on the blanket. Then he smiled down at me. The softness of his eyes made the rest of his angular face more striking. His short beard fit him perfectly now, not hiding the squareness of his jaw, but enhancing it.
I smiled back. “My Cy,” I whispered, the words coming out so unconsciously, it surprised me to hear them spoken aloud.
His smile widened. With his beard shaped back from his cheeks, I got to see a pair of perfect dimples appear. “My Mags,” he whispered back. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
Our next kiss was slower. Our need was still there, but our urgency had transformed. Every touch was now a repeat of those words. Every touch a silent “I love you.” It was in the movement of his lips against mine, and in the care with which his fingers stroked my bare torso.
Pulling back, he unlaced my sneakers one by one and tugged them off. Next he removed my jeans and underwear, pausing with each removal to kiss the skin he exposed.
“Are you cold?” he murmured.
“No, it feels good.” The cool breeze whispering across my nipples only heightened my arousal, while the warmth of the fire on my bare thighs and the heat of Cy’s big hands were pure pleasure.
He pulled off his own clothes quickly, then pulled me onto him. Over him.
I gazed down at him as I took him inside me. He clenched his teeth, hissing out a breath, then his chin lifted, his face tilting back. He groaned. “Mags.” His eyes were dark, his hands cupping my breasts.
I groaned too, pushing down on him, wanting all of him. He was so big, so perfect, he filled both my body and my soul, giving me everything I needed. Everything I wanted.
Moving slowly, I rocked on him. He stroked my breasts and sides, then his fingers went between my legs. He knew just how to heighten my pleasure, to tip me over the edge.
He knew me.
Cy loved me.
The knowledge lifted me higher, as much as the practiced, expert strokes of his fingers did. As much as the thrust of him did, the way he drove so deeply inside of me. It was everything. He was everything.
As I cried out, shattering into a million shining pieces of sensation and pleasure, Cy pulsed inside me, groaning with me. He surged upward to wrap his strong arms around me, pulling me down onto his chest, both of us still orgasming together. His lips grazed mine, and his breath became my breath. Then he held me tight, the two of us so deeply connected, body and soul, it was as though we became one.
We snuggled together as the sky darkened and the stars grew bright. Zeppelin snored, the fire crackled, an owl hooted in the woods, and a deep, contented happiness settled into my bones.
After a long time, Cy spoke softly. ”Mags, I”ve been thinking. You know Ruth is coming here soon?”
I nodded, my face against his chest, his chest hair rubbing softly against my cheek. “How could I not? Gemma’s so excited. She can’t wait to see her mom.”
“The house will be crowded.”
“I guess. But they aren’t staying long. Unfortunately.” I sighed. “We’re both going to miss Gemma when they go back to Nashville.”
“I want to ask Gem if she’ll stay with us for the holidays. Would that be okay with you?”
“Of course!”
I lifted my head to smile up at him. He was lying on his back, one hand tucked behind his head, smiling back at me. In the firelight, he looked even more handsome, and another wave of contentment swept over me.
My Cy, I thought, managing not to say it aloud this time.
“I’ve been thinking about something else,” he said. “What if I built a second house here, close to the river bank, with the trees all around? A house that’s just for us, Mags. Designed by us. And we could leave the other one for Ruth and Gemma, if they decide to stay.”
“Here?” I glanced beyond the fire. There were millions of stars visible. More stars than I’d ever seen in my life, brighter than I would have thought possible. The moon was full and so heavy it seemed to rest on top of the trees beyond the river. Its light sparkled on the water.
“This clearing was my sanctuary as a kid,” he said. “This was the one place I could be a kid. Where I could forget about everything and be happy. And now you’re that place for me.” He stroked his fingers softly down my cheek. “I love the thought of the two of us living here together. But if you’d rather go somewhere else, or do something else, let’s talk about it. I want to know what would make you happy.”
I imagined what it might be like to make love with Cy in a cozy room with a big window overlooking the woods and the water. To wake up with the gentle sound of the river in my ears.
“I’d love to live here with you,” I said. “It would make me happy, too.”
“You wouldn’t miss the city?”
“If I do, I can always visit my parents and Josephina. But I don’t think I will miss it. My life already feels full. I have everything here that I didn’t know I wanted. And as it turns out, it’s just right.”
Cy put both arms around me. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. His smile said it all.
Want more Green Valley? Read on for a sneak peek of the Love at First Sight series by Karla Sorensen! The series kicks off with the heartfelt friends to lovers title Baking Me Crazy!
Do you love opposites attract romance? Then check out these other books by Smartypants Romance:
Code of Conduct-- He”s a security expert and she doesn”t need help from anyone.
My Bare Lady-- What happens when a sassy stripper and a buttoned up professor work together for a common goal? Sparks fly and some buttons get loosened.
Lost Track-- He”s a musical genius and she may just be the only one who really understands him.
Baking Me Crazy-- She”s an independent tomboy and he”s been in love with her for years.
Sneak Peek of Baking Me Crazy by Karla Sorensen
Five years earlier
Until the day I finally spoke to Jocelyn Abernathy, I never really believed in the Buchanan curse. I made it to the ripe age of eighteen years and three days old before it finally got hold of me. I”d heard my father talk about meeting my mom when he was fifteen, and how it felt like someone grabbed his heart and said, hey, look at that one, we like that one. My middle brother told me that when he met Sylvia—both of them sixteen—his brain short-circuited, and it took him two months to be able to make intelligible conversation with her.
As far back as my great-great-great-grandfather, it’s been said that Buchanan men fall in love only once, and they fall in love—real, true love—the moment they meet the one. And once a Buchanan found The One, that was it. Nothing would come close, no one else would suffice, and you”d lay your heart out on the train tracks before walking away.
The day I met Jocelyn Abernathy, it was her hair that caught my notice first. It sprang out of the top of her head like someone shook up a box of wound-up, champagne-colored springs and then set them loose. It was so crazy, so wildly overwhelming, that her bright blue eyes and high cheekbones were a very distant second and third.
Of the players on the team I was assistant coaching, she was the fastest, had the most natural talent—her three-point shots were so beautiful, I almost cried when I watched her run drills—but she was also the quietest. It took two weeks of practice before I even got the chance to talk to her.
Every time I saw her use deft, strong movements to propel her wheelchair forward, blond curls bouncing wildly when she spun around to steal the ball during practice or when she”d ram into the side of someone else”s chair to try to snag a rebound, I got this persistent tug in my head.
You know when you woke up in the middle of the night and realized you forgot to do something? It was like that. But the thing I was forgetting felt critical. Forgetting your mom”s birthday. Forgetting to show up for a midterm. Forgetting to do your taxes—not that I was old enough to do my own taxes, but it was on that level.
That feeling like I hadn”t done something vital was a churning in my stomach, all acid and knots, until practice on the first day of week three. Along the back of the gymnasium, part of the converted elementary school that we used as the Green Valley Community Center, I sat with my legs dangling over the edge of the wooden stage, looking at Coach”s beat-up clipboard to prep for the drills he wanted to run that day.
Because the weather was still warm, and it made it easier for our players, we had the metal doors propped open with little plastic wedges. I heard her chair pop noisily over the small metal lip of the entrance when she came in.
”Abernathy, right?” I heard Earl ask from his perch at the long rectangular table. Earl and Merl, both in their nineties if they were a day, took it upon themselves to be the unofficial greeting committee for every activity held at the community center.
My head jerked up when I heard him say her last name.
She pulled her chair to a stop, twisting it as she did to face the two men. ”Yes, sir.”
He nodded, swiping at his forehead covered by the red hat I”d swear he”d had since the day he was born. ”I knew your grandma. She was good people even though she always wore that ugly purple hat to church.”
Merl leaned in, cupping a hand to his ear. ”Which hat?”
”The purple one,” Earl bellowed. ”With the yellow bird on the front.”
The two men nodded while Joss waited patiently. Or impatiently, as her fingers tapped rapidly along the top curve of her wheels.
”I can”t say I”ve seen the hat,” she said.
”It didn”t come with the house?” Merl asked. ”We heard she left you and your ma that house. Must have the hat in there somewhere.”
”Not that I”ve seen. But I”ll try to find it for you if you”d like.”
Earl tapped the side of his red hat with a gnarled finger, chuckling hard enough to spur a coughing fit. ”Sure, sure, you”ve got Ruby”s sense of humor too.”
I was far enough away that I had to strain to hear her response, but she delivered it with a slight smile on her face—her favored facial expression, as I”d learned.
”I”ll have to take your word on that one. I didn”t know her well, but I”ve heard a lot of good things about her.”
Earl tsked, looking her up and down. ”Shame about your legs.”
I rolled my eyes because I”d heard them say it to just about every person on the team.
”Heard you got a cold,” Merl said loudly, like she couldn”t hear him. Everyone in the gym could hear him. ”Got a cold and they just stopped working, isn”t that right?”
She gave another small, tight smile. ”Something like that.”
It wasn”t a cold, I wanted to shout. Not that I”d asked Coach. (I”d absolutely asked Coach.) Or googled her diagnoses, transverse myelitis—paralysis caused by an infection that triggers inflammation of the spinal cord—a dozen or so times in the past two weeks. (I”d googled it the night I saw her for the first time.)
Earl glanced at her over his thick glasses. ”Looks like you must”ve been a helluva basketball player before it happened.” He clucked his tongue. ”Shame. A crying shame, that is.”
Jocelyn laughed under her breath, snagging a basketball from the ground next to the table where they sat. It spun up on her finger like it was held by a string. ”I still am, sir. It”s the damnedest thing, but you don”t actually need your legs to shoot perfect threes.”
I barked out a laugh, and her head snapped in my direction.
She nodded at the men, then dribbled the ball next to her as she pushed toward me.
Her hair was braided tightly to her head today, and I wanted to undo it to see the curls spring out in every which direction. But as she got closer, her eyes trained on me for the first time, I stopped thinking about her hair. I didn”t really think about the fact that Earl and Merl had their weathered hats bent in, watching us with unabashed interest.
All I could do was send up a fervent prayer that I wouldn’t say something stupid, that I wouldn”t stare, wouldn”t stumble over my words, or come off like a crazy person who, after eighteen years and three days, finally believed in family curses and love at first sight.
As she came closer, it felt strange to sit up on the stage so far above her. I was no slouch at six feet one, but the raised platform kept us uncomfortably separated. I hopped off and wiped a hand down my gym shorts.
My heart stuttered once, twice, and then a third time for good measure when she continued to hold my gaze as she wheeled over the floor. She almost went past the hoop, only blinking away for a second to flick the ball up in a reverse layup that went in so smoothly the net barely moved.
The men cheered, and I smiled. Her eyes, back on me now and brighter than I realized, were center of the flame blue.
Ocean off the coast of Greece blue.
The curse is not real, the curse is not real, I chanted over and over in my head. The curse is not real, and whether you want to admit it or not, you now currently reside in a city called Denial.
”Saddle up, Coach,” she said, tilting her pointed chin at a few extra wheelchairs lined up neatly against the stage.
”Saddle what?” were the first stunningly impressive words out of my mouth. Honestly, I was just glad I didn”t croak like a bullfrog since my throat was as dry as scorched dirt.
An eyebrow over one of those bright blue eyes lifted slowly. ”Yourself? I need to kick your ass in a game of one-on-one, so those old guys quit telling me how great I must”ve been every time they see me.”
I blinked a few times, and she gave me a look that had me questioning whether I was imagining this entire exchange. I hoped I was because the times in my life that I”d choked talking to someone of the female gender was zero. Zero times.
And at my first opportunity to speak to this particular woman, I”d managed two words.
Saddle what?
Before I could try to redeem myself, she sighed and pushed one hand down on her right wheel, sending her gliding quickly over to where the ball landed. I blew out a quick breath and went to grab one of the spare chairs parked next to the bleachers. As per the rules, I strapped my legs together with a large, black elastic band and then rolled my neck back forth until I felt a pop at the base of my skull.
My chair was far more basic than her athletically designed one. Her wheels were thinner and wider, she had small wheels along the back for stability during play, and her backrest was only a few inches tall. While I got myself settled in the chair, she spun in tight circles, stopping and pivoting quickly to dribble the ball and flick it up to the net.
She wanted to prove something to Earl and Merl? No problem.
No really, it wasn”t a problem. She was so much better than me in every single category, and not because of any attempt on my part to be chivalrous.
Without breaking a sweat, Jocelyn kicked the ever-loving shit out of me on that court. I saw her grin once—though it was gone as soon as I blinked—and it was because she hit a shot from so far past the key that I swore under my breath.
Great. The second thing I said to her was a curse word. My mother would rip my ear off.
Coach entered the gym, followed by a few of the players. They all watched from the sidelines as Jocelyn pummeled me into submission, shot after shot, until she rammed my chair hard enough that I pitched forward as she tried to snatch the ball after I bricked it off the rim.
”Oh, come on, that was a foul,” I yelled out.
Jocelyn glanced over at Coach, who held his hands up. ”Looked clean to me, Levi. Better hit some shots. You”re embarrassing me out there.”
Earl chuckled. Merl slapped his leg.
Jocelyn pursed her lips to keep from smiling, and I felt it again.
A tug. A reminder. Someone poking me in the back to get me going in the right direction.
Do something. You”re not doing what you”re supposed to be doing.
I held up a hand to pause the play even though there was no earthly way I could catch up to her. She stopped moving and set the ball in her lap.
”Do you give up?” she asked.
Under my breath, I laughed, running a hand through my sweat-soaked hair. ”I have a strong sense of self-preservation, so yes, I concede.”
Jocelyn tossed me the ball, and I caught it. ”Good game.”
I raised an eyebrow at her, which made her grin again. It was another quick one, just a hint of her full smile. The words were out of my mouth before I could think twice.
”Would you like to go out to dinner with me?”
Her face froze, the seemingly endless confidence I”d seen since she first came through the doors showing its first hiccup. ”You wanna what?”
I breathed out a laugh, glad that no one was within earshot now. My body relaxed for the first time since she approached me. This is what I was supposed to do. ”I”d love it if you”d allow me to take you out to dinner.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and eyed me suspiciously. ”You don”t know me. What if I”m fourteen, and you just became the pervy coach who asked out a minor?”
My head cocked to the side. ”Well, then you”d have some explaining to do since you have to be sixteen in order to play.”
Jocelyn puffed air out of her mouth. Not quite a laugh, but it was something. ”Do you even know my name? Because I don”t know yours.”
Liar,I wanted to say. Coach yelled at me every practice, but I let it slide.
I held out my hand. ”Levi Buchanan. Born and raised in Green Valley, just turned eighteen, future exercise science major at Maryville College, and youngest of three boys. And I”m terrible at wheelchair basketball.”
Her nose wrinkled like I”d thrown dirt in her face, but she shook my hand.
”Jocelyn Abernathy, not born or raised in Green Valley, sixteen years old, I”m not terrible at wheelchair basketball, and my friends call me Joss.” She tilted her head. ”Or they would if I had friends.”
Again, I laughed, but her face didn”t change from that same mildly amused expression. My smile dropped, and I cleared my throat, not quite sure what to say to that.
The other players, sensing that our match was over, started passing drills on the opposite side of the court, with Coach yelling suggestions. Jocelyn watched them for a second, her cheeks taking on a pink tinge that I couldn”t decipher because she didn”t seem pleased by my offer. Surprised, maybe, but there was no excitement in her eyes and no fidgeting of her hands.
When she glanced back at me, her gaze was direct.
Tennessee summer sky over the mountains blue.
”I”m not …” She swallowed. ”I”m not in a place where I”m ready to have dinner with anyone, Levi.” She gestured weakly at her lap and legs. ”Even though it”s been two years since I got sick and ended up … like this, it”s still … it still takes up a lot of my head. I can”t think about dinners,” she said it quietly, looking far older than her sixteen years. ”Or anything like that right now.”
I nodded, using two mental hands to shove down the biting sense of disappointment.
Stupid Buchanan curse.
I expected that same thing prodding me forward would start railing, turning the nudge into something more persistent, but it was quiet. Waiting for what she said next.
”But,” she continued, hesitation written all over her face, in her wrinkled brow, the uncomfortable smile, ”finishing high school on your computer doesn”t give you much of a social life. Especially when you”re new in town.” Her fingers curled together on her lap. ”Maybe … maybe a new friend wouldn”t be so bad.”
It made no sense that I”d know, instantly and with complete surety, that what she”d just admitted to me was a gift. Something real and raw, hard for her to say out loud, something I definitely hadn”t earned yet, but that I”d hold carefully, nonetheless.
Joss gave me a curious look when I held out my hand. Even that, the question in her eyes, had my heart doing a skip-stutter.
”Levi Buchanan,” I said. ”It”s nice to meet you, Joss.”
Then, then she gave me a real smile—white teeth, pink lips, tiny dimple on the right side—and I never, ever got my heart back.