Chapter 4 – Lacey
I can’t breathe.
I tell myself to relax—to act normal—but it’s useless. The second Colton Walker walked through that door, every ounce of calm I’d managed to collect since returning to Shadowbrook flew straight out the window.
He’s here.
And he’s… more.
Taller, broader, more confident somehow.
His shoulders fill the doorway, his voice carries a rough edge I don’t remember but feel everywhere.
His dark hair’s a little longer than it used to be, dusted with road grime from his trip, and yet he still manages to look effortlessly good in that worn button-down and those well-fitted jeans.
His jaw’s a little sharper, his features a little more chiseled, like life’s been carving him into something stronger while I was gone.
And then there are his eyes.
That same piercing blue that always cut straight through me when we were kids, like he saw parts of me I hadn’t figured out yet. Only now, there’s a depth behind them I don’t quite know how to handle.
I swallow, forcing my fingers to stay still against the table. My hands have gone clammy.
Why am I so nervous? This is Colton. My best friend. The boy who used to race me down the dirt roads in his old truck, who used to steal my fries when I wasn’t looking, who could make me laugh until I couldn’t breathe.
Except he’s not a boy anymore.
And standing here across the kitchen from him now, I’m suddenly hyperaware of everything we’ve never said out loud.
I watch him as he leans casually against the counter, his gaze steady but not unreadable. Colton’s always been good at holding his cards close while still making you feel like you’re the only thing in the room he sees.
He called me “darlin’.”
He hasn’t called me that in years.
The simple word sends a little spark racing under my skin. I drop my gaze for a second, trying to collect myself, but my pulse keeps hammering in my ears.
This was supposed to be easy. Comfortable.
But nothing about this feels easy.
It feels like standing at the edge of something I’m not sure I’m ready to step into.
“You look good, Colton,” I say, my voice softer than I intend.
He watches me for a moment before answering, his voice equally low. “So do you.”
The heat behind those simple words isn’t lost on me. I feel it settle in my chest, radiating outward.
God, why does this feel so loaded?
I force a little smile and glance down at my tea, my fingers finding the rim of the glass again like some nervous reflex. “I’ve missed this place,” I offer, needing to say something, anything, to fill the space between us.
“You’ve missed Silver Creek?” he asks.
“Shadowbrook. Here. All of it.” I pause, my voice dropping without meaning to. “Missed you too.”
The words slip out before I can fully weigh them, but I don’t regret them. I mean every syllable.
His eyes soften, and for a moment, I see something flash across his face—relief, maybe. Hope. Or something even deeper that knots my stomach.
“I’ve missed you too, Lace,” he says.
My old nickname on his lips. Like he never stopped using it. Like no time passed at all.
The air between us thickens. Neither of us moves. Neither of us speaks.
The old promise whispers in the back of my mind, uninvited but impossible to ignore.
If we’re still single at thirty, we’ll marry each other.
It had been a joke.
At least, I’d always told myself it was.
We were kids. Sitting on the bed of his truck under a blanket of stars, the summer before I left for college. I’d been nervous, excited, convinced the city held everything I was looking for.
And Colton… Colton had already been here. Grounded. Rooted. Sure of the life he wanted.
I’d laughed when he made the pact, tossing it off like some silly safety net neither of us would ever really cash in.
But as the years passed, every birthday that ticked by seemed to make the promise feel a little less funny.
And now I’m back.
I blink, pulling myself out of the spiral.
“It’s been a while,” I say, my voice thinner now.
“Too long,” he agrees, his voice thick with something heavier than nostalgia.
I glance up at him again, this time really looking at the man he’s become, at the quiet strength that’s always been there but now radiates from every part of him. The easy confidence in the way he stands, the way he watches me like I’m the only thing that matters.
And beneath it all, that steady patience I’ve always known.
Waiting.
Has he been waiting?
My stomach flips again, but not from nerves this time. From something deeper. Older.
“You never left here, did you?” I ask softly.
His lips pull into a faint smile. “Nope. Silver Creek’s home. Always has been.”
“And you still like it?” The question feels stupid the moment it leaves my mouth. Of course he does.
But he humors me. “I do. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
The unsaid hangs between us: Where do you belong, Lacey?
I don’t have an answer. Not yet.
For a while now, I’ve told myself this visit was temporary. Just a break to catch my breath, to help Wyatt and Rachel adjust to the new baby. But standing here, in this kitchen where I spent half my childhood, with Colton standing across from me looking like that…
…it’s harder to believe I can simply pack up and leave again.
“You staying long?” he asks finally.
I lift one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I don’t know yet. A few months maybe. See how things go.”
His jaw tightens, just for a second, before he masks it with a nod. “Well, you know where to find me if you need anything.”
I smile softly, feeling the warmth of his words settle into me. “I always have.”
The kitchen falls quiet again, but this time it’s not uncomfortable. It’s charged. Familiar and foreign all at once.
I glance down at my empty glass and back up at him. His eyes haven’t moved. Still locked on mine.
This man.
This man who knows me better than anyone.
Who’s seen me at my best and my worst.
Who promised, once upon a time, that if we were still single at thirty, we’d end up together.
We’re not kids anymore.
And I’m suddenly very aware of just how close thirty really is.