Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
JOE
Saturday, Day Two of the Summer Swap
The town had gone soft under the moonlight and gauzy clouds by the time Joe made his way down to the Hideaway. Even the crickets seemed quiet tonight, as if everyone had decided to turn in early. The world had narrowed to shadows, moonlight, and the soft creak of the Hideaway deck waiting for him.
Most of the afternoon had blurred with hospital waiting room chairs, lukewarm vending machine coffee, doctors in pale scrubs explaining fractures, pins, and “good outcomes for someone her age.” Alice had been groggy but bossy enough to tell Krista not to fuss, which Joe took as a sign she’d be okay.
Krista had seemed steady throughout all of it, snapping into action, asking the doctor questions, filling out forms, and tracking down nurses.
But Joe could see the stress wearing on her—the tremor in her breath when she thought no one was watching, the way her lips pressed together when the doctor mentioned Alice’s pins.
Walt had insisted on staying with Alice through that first night. Zoe had whisked Krista home long enough for a shower and change. That was the last Joe had seen of her, but he had a feeling he knew where she’d end up before heading to his tent.
The Hideaway felt like a beacon on the shoreline with its low lights and patio chairs stacked. The lake stretched out in front of it, dark and still, a flash of silver where the moon hit the water. The smell of woodsmoke from distant campfires drifted across the lake.
Joe found Krista exactly where he expected: behind the bar, elbows on the counter, staring at the lake, her thoughts a million miles away. The overhead lights were dimmed low. Frankie was snoring in a little ball at her feet.
She’d changed into soft shorts and an oversized Hideaway sweatshirt. Her hair was a messy twist, shoulders curved inward, like she was trying to hold herself together by sheer will.
“Hey,” he said gently.
She looked up, blinked once, and tried for a smile. It didn’t quite make it.
“Hey,” she echoed. “Did Walt update you too?”
“Yeah,” he said, stepping behind the bar automatically. “They’re keeping her for a few days to make sure everything holds.”
Krista nodded, swallowing. “She was mad about the hospital food. She told the nurse their Jell-O was practically criminal. I told her I’d have Kit whip up something special, just for her.”
Joe let out a short laugh. “Sounds about right.”
Silence settled again, heavier this time. Krista traced the edge of a water ring on the bar.
“I know she’s okay,” she said finally. “Like, rationally. But all I keep thinking about is what if she hadn’t been? What if it had been worse?” Her voice cracked.
Joe felt that familiar urge rise in him, the urge to fix, to steady, to make things easier. “Stay right there,” he said.
He reached for the shaker, for the familiar bottles on the shelf. Tequila. Honey syrup. Fresh lime from the little fridge. Ice from the bin.
Steady, sure—nothing like his first disaster shift. When he was done, he strained the drink into a glass, the golden liquid catching the low light, the salted rim glittering.
He set the Hot Honey Margarita in front of her.
Her eyes flicked from the drink to his face. “You really mastered that,” she said, her voice soft.
“I had a good teacher,” he replied.
She picked up the glass, studying it for a moment before taking a sip. Her shoulders eased a fraction. “Thank you,” she said.
“You deserve it.”
For a second, she just held the glass, staring at the lake like it might answer something for her.
Then she swallowed hard. “Also…” She cleared her throat, eyes finally meeting his. “About earlier. In the car.”
Krista’s mouth wobbled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I snapped at you. I didn’t mean—” She exhaled, shaky. “Not all of it. I was scared and exhausted and…you didn’t deserve that.”
Joe shook his head once, slow. “No,” he said quietly.
“I deserved some of it. I shouldn’t have called you stubborn, or acted like I understood what this situation is like for you.
” He paused, choosing the words carefully.
“And I shouldn’t have brought up your parents like it was some easy solution. ”
Krista’s fingers tightened around the glass.
Joe stepped closer, leaning his forearms on the bar, not crowding her—just there. “I get it,” he said, softer. “It’s off the table. Completely. I’m not going to push you toward something that feels like a trap.”
Her eyes shone again, and she blinked fast.
“Thank you,” she whispered .
But the dam had cracked. One tear, then another, running down her cheeks, catching on the curve of her jaw. She set the glass down and covered her face with her hands.
“I’m just—” Her voice came out choked. “I’m so tired of holding everything up. The campground, the Hideaway, my grandparents, even this whole stupid swap. I’m selling a place I love and raising money living in a tent so I can take care of people I love, and today I thought I might lose her and?—”
Her words tangled, broke. A small, raw sound escaped her.
Joe moved to put his arm around her. “You don’t have to hold it all right now,” he said. “I’ve watched you be brave all day. Let go. I’m here for you.”
Her chin wobbled. “I don’t know how to not be okay.”
“Come here,” he said gently.
Something in her expression crumpled, then gave way. She leaned into him, and he pulled her in close. She fit against him like she belonged there, the top of her head tucking under his chin, her hands fisting in his shirt.
He held her while she cried. Real, messy, shaking sobs that left damp patches on his chest. He rubbed slow circles on her back, murmuring nothing words.
Frankie woke up, blinked, then hopped up to rest his chin on her foot like backup.
Eventually, the sobs quieted. Her breathing eased from ragged to rough to something closer to normal.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled into his shirt.
“Don’t be,” he said. “If anyone’s earned a meltdown, it’s you.”
She gave a wet little laugh at that, pulling back just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, lashes damp, cheeks flushed. Somehow, he found her more beautiful than he had all day.
“This is not my sexiest moment,” she muttered .
He smiled, thumb brushing away a stray tear at the edge of her cheek. “You’d be surprised.”
The air between them shifted. It was still fragile, still threaded with grief and fear, but now shot through with something warmer, deeper. The same pull that had been tugging at him since the night at the firepit, right here at the Hideaway.
He cupped her face gently in both hands and kissed her.
It started softly, a question. Her lips tasted like salt and honey and the faint tang of lime. For a heartbeat, she went still.
Then she kissed him back.
The answer was in the way she moved closer, knees bumping his, fingers sliding up into his hair. The kiss deepened, slow and reverent, not about distraction or adrenaline this time, but about connection.
He broke away just long enough to look down to her. “Come outside,” he murmured. “It’s too pretty a night to waste.”
They slipped out onto the back deck, leaving the lights low inside.
The lake stretched out in front of them, still and wide, a dark mirror strewn with moonlight.
Fireflies blinked lazily over the water’s edge, tiny lanterns in the tall grass.
The air was warm, touched with the faint sweetness of clover and the distant smoke of campfires.
Krista grabbed one of the thick blankets she kept for chilly evenings and shook it out over the nearest lounge chair before unbuttoning her jean shorts and letting them fall to the deck.
Joe swallowed hard. He’d pictured her like this before—God, so many times—but nothing his imagination conjured even came close.
“You sure?” he asked quietly.
She took a step back, the edge of the blanket behind her. Her eyes shone, but not just with tears now. “One hundred percent.”
He swallowed again, heat and tenderness tangling in his chest .
“Okay,” he said.
They sank down together, the blanket cocooning them from the warm wood of the deck. He folded her into his side, and she turned toward him, her palm settling over his heart, feeling the steady thud. His arm curled around her waist, anchoring her to him.
The world—the stress and ache of everything waiting on the other side—faded into a quiet haze. It was just them now. Just this.
He kissed her like she was the only thing tethering him to this place, to this moment. Her fingers threaded into his hair. His mouth moved to her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, each kiss lower.
Krista’s breath hitched as his hand slipped beneath her shirt, fingers trailing up her back. He sat up slightly, his mouth finding the skin just beneath her ribs.
“Can I?” he asked, voice husky.
She nodded, arms lifting, and he pulled her shirt over her head in one smooth motion. Flushed skin, rising chest, the soft curve of her in the moonlight.
“Jesus, Krista,” he whispered.
He kissed her collarbone, then his mouth moved over the swell of her breasts. She arched into him, a soft gasp escaping her lips. He took his time, his tongue flicking, lips teasing until her breath turned ragged and her thighs trembled.
Only then did his hand drift down again, skimming her stomach, sliding her panties down as she exhaled sharply.
And when his fingers found her—slick and wanting—Krista gasped, her hand clenching in his shirt. His thumb circled, gentle at first. She rocked against him, whispering his name like a secret.
“Slow down. Let me take care of you,” he murmured.
He slid down, mouth replacing fingers, kissing her thighs, licking into her and learning her with every moan and shift of her hips. She was already shaking when he crawled back up and kissed her again, her taste still on his lips.
Then she reached for him, pulling his shirt over his head, her hands roaming the expanse of his chest, the hard line of his stomach. She unbuttoned his pants, pushing them down, freeing him.
He let out a low groan and dropped his head back onto the blanket.
She pressed a kiss to his sternum, then another lower. Joe let her ease him back fully onto the blanket, helpless to do anything but follow her lead.
When she straddled him, her thighs bracketing his hips, his hands flew to her waist.
And then—slowly, deliberately—she sank onto him.
They gasped together, the sound low and broken between them. Joe’s hands tightened, holding her steady as she took him in inch by inch. The heat of her, the way her body stretched around him, stole whatever breath he had left.
She was looking down at him, eyes fluttering closed as her hips settled, as her body adjusted.
“Krista…” he breathed again, voice ragged.
Her lips parted, a quiet moan escaping as she braced her hands on his chest, fingertips digging in.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her. The way the moonlight kissed her collarbone. The rise and fall of her breath. The way she moved—confident, sensual, completely unguarded.
He’d give her everything. Every bit of patience, every ounce of restraint, if only to see her fall apart on top of him.
She rode him with slow, sensual purpose, like she was writing her name in his body.
Her hands slid to his shoulders, her breath catching, her movements building.
When she came, it was with a soft, broken cry, her body trembling around him, her muscles tightening as her head dropped to his shoulder .
Joe held her, one hand stroking her back, heart pounding as he tried to memorize the sound she’d made.
Before he could gather himself enough to take the lead again, Krista shifted—sliding off him, pressing a lingering kiss to his mouth.
And then she moved down.
“I want to finish you,” she whispered, voice low and thick with heat. “Let me.”
She took him into her mouth, slow and sure, and Joe’s head fell back with a groan. One hand tangled in her hair, the other fisted in the blanket beneath him. She licked and sucked and teased with that same confidence, deliberate and devastating. She knew exactly how to unravel him.
She worked him with her mouth until he was panting, his eyes closed, hips jerking helplessly beneath her. He tried to warn her—tried—but she just squeezed his thigh and took him deeper.
He came hard, with a shout that echoed off the lake, fireworks bursting behind his eyelids, every nerve in his body lit up like the Fourth of July.
For a long time, he didn’t move.
Krista slid back up and tucked herself into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Jesus,” he breathed eventually, still stunned.
She laughed softly, and in that quiet, spent warmth, Joe thought that if he had to pick one moment to live in forever, it might just be this one.
He couldn’t bear the thought of how little time he had left, before he had to go.