Page 36 of That Kiss

I slide one hand out from her grasp, placing it on top of hers. “What if I can’t do it again? What if I can’t fully open my heart back up to you?”

“I won’t pretend I’m not scared of that, but I’m willing to try—to prove to you that I’m willing to take that risk if it means rebuilding trust and what we had.”

“I—” I have the sudden unhinged urge to tell her there’s someone else, but I don’t. I’m confused and tired and in no condition to be making life-altering decisions. “I just need time to think things over, to figure out where my head is. I’m kind of spinning out on all of this—you being here—and it wouldn’t be fair to you or me to give you some half-cocked answer.”

“I understand, Decker.” She squeezes my hand before slowly pulling both of hers away. “I know this is a lot, and I appreciate the fact that you’ve even given me the time that you have and let me stay here.”

We both stand and silently take our plates to the sink. I clean them off and place them in the dishwasher while she puts the leftovers away.

“I’ve had a long day. If you don’t need anything, I think I’m just going to take a shower and crash.”

“I’m okay, but thank you. I’m going to have a cup of tea on the back deck if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, of course. You’re welcome to use anything you need.” I keep one foot on the steps, my hand on the railing as we both stand awkwardly. “Good night, Cami.”

“Thank you, good night.”

The cool bitterness of my beer is refreshing after another long and unseasonably hot day in early September. I tug my hat down a little lower to shield against the later afternoon sun that begins to sink beneath the mountain peaks.

When I see Juniper’s Subaru turn down her driveway, I slide off the bed of my truck and close it. I’m sure I made the wrong choice not reaching out to her at all, not even to apologize. I convinced myself it would be easier to explain in person, so I’ve just saved it all for one very uncomfortable conversation.

“Wow, so you are alive?” She holds her hands up over her brow, squinting as she approaches me. “Guess I should call off the search party then.” She gives me that smirk, the one that’s flirty and snarky at the same time. The one I know I can turn into a smile in a second if I grab her and kiss her.

“I’m guessing a regular-old ‘sorry’ isn’t going to do the trick in this situation, is it?” I hold out what remains of the six-pack I’ve been drinking from toward her.

“Oh, it’s gonna take a lot more than free Slade beer to get out of this one.” She grabs the entire case and flings it onto her shoulder, walking toward my truck. “Put the bed back down; it’s too nice a night to be inside.” I oblige, lowering the bed so she can place the beer on it. “Let me toss my stuff inside. Be right back.” She jogs toward the back door and disappears inside, reappearing a few moments later with a blanket and a bag of chips. “Here.” She tosses one end of the blanket toward me and we straighten it out on the truck bed so we have some padding. A moment later, we’re both sitting side by side in the back of the truck with a bag of chips and some beers between us.

“I—uh, I’m not even sure where to begin.” I look over at her, her blue eyes sparkling in the amber glow of the sun. A breeze picks up and swirls a few strands of hair from her half-undone braid around her face.

“You could start with ‘sorry.’ That’s usually the best jumping-off point when you blow someone off and then ghost them.”

“Well, I am incredibly sorry, and while there’s no excuse for my behavior, there is an . . . explanation. But first let me say that I shouldn’t have left you hanging the way I did. I should have said that something came up and I couldn’t make it and needed to reschedule. It was incredibly rude and I’m sorry.”

She nods her head slowly before giving me a very suspicious look. “If you’re going to follow that up with a story about how you’re actually a secret spy or the CIA needed your help with something, let me tell you now that I have in fact heard that excuse before, and I will not be falling for it again.”

She’s joking.

She falls into a fit of laughter at her own joke and it makes me smile too. She has every right to be angry with me, but she’s not. She pulls her denim-clad leg up and turns herself so she’s facing me, ready to hear my explanation.

“But seriously, I forgive you. I understand that sometimes shit happens and that’s life. The important thing is you’re okay and you’re here now.” She leans forward and pulls my hat from my head, placing it on hers. It’s something she’s done with me over the last few years. It’s cute, and it feels intimate, maybe because no one else has ever done it.

“Thank you,” I clear my throat, “but there’s something you need to know. Something I should have told you before I ever let things go as far as they have between us.”

“Oh.” Her face drops, her lips pursing into a straight line. My chest burns and I clear my throat to try to get the words out. “Look,” she reaches up to take her hat off slowly. “I was anticipating this conversation, so it’s really not that big of a deal.”

“What?” My head lifts in shock.

“I know I’m young, Decker, but I’m not as naive as you might think. I knew the whole we shouldn’t have done this, we can’t do it again speech was coming that night you came by my house but you chickened out.” She shrugs and takes a long pull of beer, her finger running absentmindedly down the seam of the blanket. “I’m a big girl, so I can handle it.”

I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. My mouth falls open, yet I don’t know what to say. How have I managed to completely misread two situations with two very different women?

“My ex showed up at my house last night. My ex-fiancée.” I just say it; no point in dragging it out any longer. The silence between us stretches. Finally, I turn my eyes to look at hers, but she’s staring at the ground. “I had no idea she was coming. I haven’t heard from her since before I left Texas, and when I came home to her on my porch, I was just in complete shock. The entire next day was kind of a blur.”

She brings the beer to her mouth, taking a sip, her eyes still staring at the ground. “You were engaged?”

“Yes—well, no,” I correct immediately. “I guess, technically, I was never engaged to her. I proposed and she said ‘no’ and that was the end of it.”

“Before we?—”

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