Page 62 of The Hometown Legend

It was hard and sharp, and she felt like he was cutting through her, felt like he could see things that she would rather he didn’t.

It was something she could hardly breathe past, hardly think past. And maybe she was supposed to say something for now, because this didn’t feel easy or fun or just a little bit flirty. It felt like something else altogether. And she felt undone. But she didn’t want to say anything, because she didn’t want to disrupt the moment.

Because suddenly, right now, she felt like a woman who could go to Boston and be anything. She felt powerful. She felt strong.

In his arms, she felt like maybe she was beautiful. Maybe she was worthy of this. Maybe she could have this.

If her middle school bullies could see her now...

She looked over into the corner of the bar, desperately hoping that those bullies were there somewhere. Sadly, they weren’t. But Rory liked the idea that theycouldhave been.

This felt like a victory. Because his arms felt like magic, and she never wanted him to look away. Never wanted him to break the intensity of his gaze.

His hands were large and hot. His body was so hot. That was one of the things she hadn’t fully counted on.

They were just dancing, swaying out in the middle of the floor, but it was more physical than she had imagined this kind of thing might be.

She supposed that spoke to how naive she was.

She felt like a layer of that naivety had been peeled away.

Just now. Just being held in his arms.

Maybe that didn’t make sense. She was past sense now.

“Do you come here often?” she asked.

“I’m going to let you in on a secret,” he said. “Women don’t have to work hard to get a man if what they want to do is hook up.”

“Then why can’t I find anyone to hook up with me?”

“Because you haven’t wanted anybody enough to do it.”

“What?” she asked.

“I know that I haven’t been around in recent years. I haven’t watched all your interactions with men. But what I’ve seen of you recently, Rory, is that if you want to do something, you do it.”

“No. That isn’t true.” She shook her head. “I’m a quitter.”

“That’s what you think. But I haven’t seen that.”

No, he’d said she was beautiful. He made her feel like maybe more was possible than she’d imagined.

He always had.

“I didn’t climb the mountain. Or finish the rope climb,” she said, her voice soft.

“Yeah, I know. But did you want to?”

“No,” she whispered.

“That’s the problem. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to, so you didn’t. Now you do, so you will. I’m not saying that there wasn’t some personal growth that you needed. You told me that yourself. You wanted to be comfortable more than you wanted to go to school. And that’s fine. But now you’re ready to have some discomfort, and I think you’re going to tolerate it just fine.”

His words reached down deep to something wounded in her. Eased an ache there. He made it sound like it wasn’t she who had been wrong. That she’d just been in the wrong places, doing the wrong things at the wrong times. He made it sound like she could make anything happen if she really wanted it, and that she could forget about the rest.

He was here, saving her, just like he’d done then. And he thought he was broken. But he wasn’t. He was different. Like a bronze statue that had gone back into the fire and been reformed into something else. But the heart of him was still the same.

“Do you want to know what I think?” she asked, her voice almost coming out a whisper.

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