14. Kisses & Memories #2
She reached out and scratched the nearest cow between the ears one last time. The cow leaned into her hand and answered with a soft, contented moo.
A tremor went through Josie's lip, just slightly, before she turned away.
A few minutes later, they were back on the highway.
Jay and Cara took the lead. Seth guided Beast into the fresh tire tracks already cut through the snow, steadying his breathing the way he'd been steadying everything else all winter.
Inside the SUV, silence settled in again—but this one didn't match the quiet they'd shared earlier.
It sat between them, and they both found reasons to look at their hands, the window, the middle distance—anywhere that wasn't the last few days.
Layla chatted to herself in the backseat, staging conversations between her stuffed rabbit and the passing snowbanks. She kept her voice bright and oblivious, as if tension could only exist in grown-up rooms.
Josie leaned her forehead against the cold glass, watching the white fields blur past. The morning replayed in her mind in sharp fragments: Seth's struggle for composure, the confession about Molly and AJ, and the hesitant kiss that followed—soft, tentative, as if he wrestled with deserving closeness or fearing it would break him.
Josie felt no regret.
And that was the problem.
Beside her, Seth's hands gripped the steering wheel, his focus rigid. His jaw was set, his gaze locked on the road, as if locked in an internal battle. The silence stretched, growing brittle.
When he finally spoke, his voice was careful.
"Listen..."
Josie turned, her tone soft. "What is it?"
He kept his eyes on the road. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Josie asked.
Seth's jaw clenched, the words seemingly fighting their way out. "For—" He choked, unable to finish. "For kissing you."
The silence that followed was not empty; it was attentive.
Josie studied the strong line of his jaw, the way his scarred hands rested on the wheel. He looked exhausted, yet resolute. When he finally met her gaze, she saw past the cold blue of his eyes to the fatigue just beneath the surface.
She didn't look away.
"Don't apologize," she said quietly.
Seth glanced over, startled. Josie continued before her courage faltered. "I wasn't expecting it, that's all."
"And I wasn't expecting it," he admitted.
"I know." Her smile was restrained but real, just touching the corners of her mouth. "I wasn't expecting it either."
She shifted to face him more fully. "Seth... Mark's gone."
The words came out with a strange mix of certainty and awkwardness, as if reminding herself of a rule that no longer applied to either of them. His expression softened instantly, relief breaking through his tension.
Josie pushed past her nerves, forcing honesty. "You're not married either."
He nodded once.
"We shared a kiss," she added, her voice gentler. "That's all it was. We don't have to punish ourselves for it."
Seth's brows lifted slightly. "You're sure?"
Josie let out a small laugh. "I mean it. I’m sure. And... I enjoyed it."
Seth blinked, clearly thrown by her directness. "You did?"
"Don't act so surprised," Josie said, a small, genuine smile touching her lips. "It was a nice moment."
A quiet laugh escaped him. "It was. More than nice."
"But," Seth said, the word heavy with unspoken meaning.
Josie knew what came next. She watched the highway ahead disappear into more snow and more distance.
"In a few days," she said, "we'll reach my parents' ranch."
Seth nodded. "If everything goes right."
"You'll head back to your people," Josie continued.
"And you'll stay with yours." Seth's voice tightened at the end.
The thought settled between them, a weight neither wanted to name. Josie's small motion of her hand cut carefully through the moment.
"This... is temporary."
Seth swallowed, his knuckles white on the wheel, as if he could hold the conversation in place. "Probably."
Josie exhaled slowly through her nose. "It's probably better if this is all it is."
She expected him to argue. He didn't.
He simply nodded. The quiet that followed wasn't defeat; it was the silence of two people admitting that survival had trained them to stay alert, careful, and never let desire convince them the world would be kind..
After a long stretch, Seth finally said, "Yeah. Probably."
They said nothing else, not because words ran out, but because there was no safe next sentence.
From the backseat, Layla held her rabbit between the front seats like a judge in a family meeting.
"Mr. Ranger says you're both grumpy," she announced.
Josie blinked. "What?"
Layla nodded solemnly. "He said nobody smiled after breakfast."
Seth glanced at Josie, then back at Layla, as if he'd forgotten children could turn tension into laughter with a single sentence. Josie looked at him, and for a moment the rest of the world slipped away.
Then they both laughed.
The sound was brief, but it loosened something in both of them. Not gone—nothing disappeared that easily—but settled, for now, where it couldn't drown them.
Layla beamed. "I fixed it."
"You sure did, peanut." Josie reached back and squeezed her daughter's foot. Layla returned to her imaginary conversation with Mr. Bunny, as if she'd solved the hardest problem in existence.