Page 44 of Beyond the Stroke

Her eyes fill with relief. She thinks she won. Goal achieved.

She has no idea how badly I want to prove her wrong right now.

But I can’t, so I back up and reach for the door handle.

She scoops up Edgar and follows me out of the van.

“Fine. Pay for the lock. But let’s not make this into something it isn’t.”

“Maybe Edgar wants to see me again.”

“He just met you last night. He’ll move on.”

Summer holds Edgar tight to her chest, like she thinks I’m going to snatch him up.

“Oh, I forgot,” I say, reaching for the bag sitting in the front seat of my Jeep. “I found these on the sidewalk down the street when I was walking Edgar this morning.”

She peeks in the bag and gasps. “My paints.”

“So, they are yours?”

She nods.

“You said nothing was missing.”

“I guess I didn’t notice.”

“They looked brand new. Never used. I didn’t even think they were yours until I saw your bin of painting supplies.”

When I hand her the bag, her eyes light with exhilaration, then as she tends to do, she contains it, and casually takes the bag from me.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll see you later, Wildflower.”

I hop in my Jeep and shut the door before she has time to argue with me.

twelve

. . .

SUMMER

Like he promised, Rory doesn’t show up at the café for my evening shift.

It’s a relief to know I’ll be able to focus on my job without his smart quips or that charming smile.

There’ll be no effort spent suppressing the smiles he somehow teases out of me. No reminders that he spent the night making sure I was safe, fixed my van lock, or found my stolen paints because I won’t have to see him.

I replay the moment when he handed me the paints. How my heart had leapt at the discovery and how even though I’d told Rory nothing was missing, he’d somehow known.

But as the hours tick by, I become less annoyed with Rory and more annoyed at myself. I spend most of my shift regretting how I left things with him. Earlier, I was annoyed at him for not letting me pay for the new lock and for his insistence on getting to know each other.

Now I’m annoyed that I can’t even be mad at him because he’s too damn nice.

As Darcy and I exit the restaurant’s back door with Kale on our heels, Darcy lets out a piercing squeal. My first thought is the raccoons are back trying to get into the trash bins, but then I look up to find Rory standing there in a pair of gray shorts and a blue Carolina Current t-shirt. He’s got a backwards hat on and the large athletic watch he wears is peeking out from where his hands are tucked into his pockets.

The moment I see him, my heart lurches. The tiny weight in my chest lifts, traitorous and unwelcome. I shouldn’t feel relieved. I shouldn’t feel anything.

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