Chapter 7 – Lacey
I don’t sleep much.
Even after I make it back to Wyatt and Rachel’s, even after the shower and the tea and the deep breath I took on the porch before walking inside — my mind won’t settle.
Every time I close my eyes, I feel Colton’s lips on mine. The weight of his hand on my waist. The heat of his voice, low and close, as he said he meant every word.
I curl tighter into the guest bed, staring up at the shadows dancing across the ceiling. The house is quiet except for the occasional creak of the floorboards. Somewhere down the hall, baby Clara stirs and settles again.
It should be comforting. And it is.
But it’s also suffocating.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and pad barefoot to the kitchen. The tile is cool beneath my feet. I flick on the small lamp over the sink and pour myself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as I take slow sips.
This isn’t just a visit anymore.
I knew it the second he kissed me. The second I kissed him back.
God, what was I thinking?
Everything about it had felt right — dangerously, completely right — and that’s exactly what makes it so terrifying.
Because if this is real… if Colton is something more than just comfort and nostalgia…
Then what am I supposed to do about the life I left behind?
The career I’ve spent years chasing? The apartment, the titles, the reputation I fought tooth and nail to build?
Can I really walk away from all of that because a kiss in a small-town kitchen made me feel more alive than anything else has in years?
I set the glass down harder than I mean to, wincing at the quiet thud.
“Lacey?”
I jump.
Rachel’s soft voice drifts from the hallway. She steps into the kitchen, tying her robe tighter as she blinks in the low light.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “Did I wake you?”
She shakes her head. “I was up with Clara. She went right back down. You okay?”
I hesitate, then nod. “Just couldn’t sleep.”
Rachel leans on the opposite counter, studying me with gentle eyes that miss nothing. She’s always had that calm, steady presence — it’s no wonder Wyatt fell for her.
“You want to talk about it?” she asks softly.
I run a hand through my hair. “It’s stupid.”
Rachel just waits.
“I kissed Colton,” I finally say. “Or… he kissed me. We kissed each other. It happened.”
She doesn’t look surprised. If anything, she smiles like she saw it coming weeks ago.
“And how did that feel?” she asks.
I let out a laugh that sounds more like a sigh. “Like I’ve been waiting ten years for it. And also like I might be making the biggest mistake of my life.”
Rachel tilts her head. “Why would it be a mistake?”
“Because I don’t live here,” I say, the words coming faster now.
“Because I have a job. Or… I did. And I was going to find another one, something bigger, better. Because I spent years proving I could make it out there, and now I’m back here, falling into a man and a rhythm and a life that I walked away from. ”
Rachel is quiet for a moment.
Then, gently: “Lacey, no one’s saying you have to make a decision tonight.”
I nod, even though the decision already feels like it’s pressing in from all sides.
“It just felt like more than it should’ve,” I say. “That kiss. Him.”
“Maybe it felt exactly the way it was supposed to.”
I glance at her, startled.
Rachel smiles again, softer this time. “I don’t think Colton Walker does anything halfway.”
No. He doesn’t. That’s exactly the problem.
I press my palms against the edge of the counter, staring down at the tile.
I need space. Distance. Time to think.
Time to remember that I came back here to help my brother. To rest. To regroup.
Not to fall in love with the boy next door who somehow turned into the man I can’t stop thinking about.
* * *
The next morning, I skip breakfast and head into town early.
I tell Wyatt I’m running errands, but mostly I just need to breathe. I wander through the hardware store, pick up a coffee at the bakery, nod to half a dozen familiar faces who act like I never left.
It’s too easy here.
Too warm. Too full of everything I forgot I wanted.
I pass the storefront where Mom used to buy my school shoes.
The little park where Colton and I once played tag until we both collapsed in the grass, breathless and sunburned.
The diner where we’d sneak milkshakes after chores and pretend we weren’t completely, hopelessly tethered to each other even then.
I slide into a bench at the park and sit there until my coffee goes cold.
I don’t know what I’m doing.
All I know is that last night changed something. And I don’t know if I’m brave enough to admit it out loud yet.