Page 25 of One Hot Summer

As Collin bustles about, I lean against the doorframe, drinking in the scene. She moves with easy grace, her presence transforming our once-lonely kitchen into a haven of comfort.

“How was your day?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual.

Kelsie glances up, a flicker of something—uncertainty? fear?—passing through her eyes before she smiles. “Good. Busy. I, uh, I've been thinking…”

My heart rate quickens. Here it comes, I think. The moment when she tells us she's leaving.

But Kelsie just bites her lip, then turns back to the oven. “These should be done in a few minutes,” she says, changing the subject.

As she busies herself with the baking, I notice the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands tremble slightly as she adjusts the temperature. There's so much I want to say, so many reasons I want to give her to stay. But the words stick in my throat, held back by my own fears and insecurities.

Instead, I move closer. “Need any more help?”

She turns, and suddenly we're standing close enough that I can see the faint freckles dusting her nose, smell the sweet scent of apples and cinnamon clinging to her skin. For a heartbeat, the world narrows to just us,.

“Carson,” she whispers, her voice catching. “I?—”

The oven timer dings, shattering the moment. Kelsie steps back, her cheeks flushed, and busies herself with the turnovers. I'm left standing there, my heart racing, wondering what she was about to say and if I'll ever be brave enough to find out.

I watch as Kelsie carefully arranged the golden-brown pastries on a cooling rack, her movements precise and controlled. She is avoiding my gaze.

“They smell amazing.”

Kelsie nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Thanks. It's my grandmother's recipe.”

Collin, oblivious to the undercurrents of emotion swirling around us, reached for one of the turnovers. “Can I have one now? Please?”

“Careful, they're hot,” Kelsie warns. She hands him a small plate. “Here, why don't you take this to the living room? We'll be right there.”

As Collin scampers off, clutching his prize, Kelsie turns to face me. Her green eyes sre clouded with uncertainty.

“Carson, I need to tell you something.”

My heart hammered in my chest. This is it. The moment I've been dreading. I brace myself for the worst, trying to prepare for the pain of hearing her say she is leaving.

“I’m scared. These past few days with you and Collin... they've been wonderful. More than wonderful. But I'm terrified of letting myself believe in this. In us.”

I take a step closer, drawn by the vulnerability in her voice. “Kelsie, I?—”

She holds up a hand, stopping me. “Please, let me finish. I've been hurt before, Carson. You know all about that. I've lost people. And the idea of opening myself up to that kind of pain again... it's paralyzing.”

I want to reach out, to pull her into my arms and promise her that everything will be okay. Instead, I wait, giving her the space to continue.

“But today, while I was baking, I realized something. I'm even more afraid of walking away from this. From you and Collin. From the possibility of what we could be.”

Hope blooms in my chest, fragile and tentative. “What are you saying?”

Kelsie takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “I’m saying that I want to stay. If you'll have me. I want to see where this leads, even if it scares me half to death.”

I absorb Kelsie's words. The kitchen suddenly feels too small, too warm.

“Kelsie,” I breath, taking a step closer. “You have no idea how much I want that too.”

Her eyes widen. “Really?”

I nod, my hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. “Really. These past few days... they've been like a dream. One I never want to wake up from.”

Kelsie leans into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When she opens them again, there is a new determination there. “I can't promise it'll be easy,” she says. “I’m still... broken in a lot of ways.”

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