Page 39 of Forever To Me

Not over a motorcycle ride. Not over Walker.

And yet, here I am, clutching the warm coffee he bought me like it’s some lifeline, walking beside him down the quiet streets of Bridger Falls, and trying—really trying—not to let my brain go places it shouldn’t.

Like how solid he felt under my hands. How the warmth of his body bled through his shirt, steady and strong as I held on to him. How the wind tangled through my hair, the world flying by, and somehow, all I could focus on was him—how safe I felt. How much I wanted to press closer.

It was just a ride. Just a favor after my car broke down.

But now, with the town settling into a quiet hum around us, I can’t shake the way my pulse still stirs when he glances over at me.

This is dangerous.

Walker is—Walker is my friend. My favorite person to banter with at the bar, the one who lets me handle things and never says a word. The guy who calls me Red with a slow, teasing grin.

He’s steady. Dependable. Good.

And that ride…

That ride made me forget all the reasons we’re just friends.

But it doesn’t help when Walker’s arm brushes mine, hisscent—a mix of leather, soap, and something undeniably him—lingering in the cool air.

“You’re quiet,” he says, his voice low, easy. Like he already knows I’m in my head.

I force a smirk, bumping my elbow against his. “Shocking, isn’t it?”

He chuckles, and I swear it does something to my chest. Makes it tighten. Makes it ache in a way I don’t want to examine too closely.

I liked that ride too much. I liked the feel of him too much.

And I can’t afford to.

I take another sip of coffee, fixing my gaze on the sidewalk ahead. Just friends. That’s all we are.

Even if, right now, walking next to him with the pinks and purples streaking across the sky and my heart tripping over itself like a fool…

It sure as hell doesn’t feel that way.

For a second, we stand there, the space between us charged with something unspoken. Then Walker clears his throat. “We'd better get going. Maggie’ll have my ass if I keep you here any longer.”

“Later, Walker,” I call as I head inside the Dogwood while he waits on the sidewalk like a gentleman. I'm pretending to play it cool with Walker. But what I feel is far from cool.

The smell of orange furniture polish drifts through The Dogwood as I finish wiping down the check-in counter. The afternoon light filters through the windows, casting golden streaks across the worn wooden floors.

Maggie bustles into the room, a woman on a mission, stuffinga few things into a tote bag before shrugging on her jacket.

“Where’s the fire?” I ask, sipping my coffee.

Maggie huffs. “No fire. Just heading over to pick up Mack.”

I grin, because the way Maggie spoils Walker’s daughter is adorable. It’s the way she’s always been with me. “What are you bringing her this time?”

“Just a few cookies,” she says far too innocently, sliding the tote over her shoulder.

I lean against the counter, smirking. “Maggie, we both know there are at least three different snacks in there, probably a book, and knowing you, something ridiculously hilarious.”

Maggie lifts her chin, unapologetic. “That girl is growing up too fast. Someone has to dote on her properly.”

I shake my head, amused. “You know, Walker might fight you for the title of ‘Most Overprotective.’”

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