“Gray, this town is adorable! How long has that bookstore been there? They had the cutest kitten running around. I ate way too many samples at the bakery, and I bought fudge. I got a few for the girls, cookies and cream for Cade, and rocky road for me. Do you remember when they brought those mini cakes to the football field during freshman year?”
I nod. “I ate like seven of the German chocolate ones and was sick for days.”
“Well,” she says, holding out a small container of German chocolate fudge to me. “I hope this doesn’t bring back any bad memories.”
“Thank you, Eddie,” I choke out. Even if it makes me sick, I’m eating the whole thing.
The gesture is so kind that my hands shake as I take the fudge, and I’m thankful that she doesn’t notice. Mallory’s distracted by the small town I grew up in. A town I never cared for outside of Lake Anita, Nan, and Cade’s family. With her beside me, I’m reminded of its beauty.
“Did you have a good day?” I ask, clocking her deepening frown as we drive further away from Bryan.
A sleepy smile spreads across her lips when she looks at me. “Surprisingly, yes. It was a very good day.”
The drive home looks like it will be a lot less tense than the drive up, which was completely my fault. Who knew something as simple as a hug from Mallory would make me panic? She closed the space between usso easily, and instead of enjoying it, I froze like I had been caught doing something wrong.
Even though it felt so right.
“I wanted to talk about earlier. The hu—”
A loud pop cuts me off, followed by a hissing sound that reminds me of deflating balloons. Mallory sits up as the wheel spins out of my hands, veering us to the right side of the road and straight toward a cluster of trees.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Mallory screams.
She reaches for the handle above the door but it’s too late. A sickening thud echoes in the interior when her shoulder slams against the door, and the whimper of pain she lets out pierces my ears. My arm shoots across her chest to assist her seatbelt with anchoring her into the seat.
Nails dig into my forearm as I regain control of the truck. I release a shaky exhale when it finally bumps and groans to a stop in the grass.
The moment we’re stopped, my hand flies from her hip to her cheek, letting the other get tangled in her hair as I bring her face to mine. “Breathe, Eddie. Take a deep breath for me. In and out, real slow.”
After the seventeenth shaky breath, her eyes flutter open.
This is so not the time, but I take a brief moment to really look at Mallory. It’s crazy how beautiful this woman is. I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing her this close. Only an inch separates our noses from touching, and her body tenses as the realization hits her.
But she doesn’t pull back.
“Are you okay?” I ask, rubbing a pale scar beneath her eye.
She nods hard, as if trying to convince herself. “You?”
“I’m fine, but your shoulder. God, Eddie. That sounded so bad. Can you move it?”
Giving my hand a squeeze, she removes it from her cheek and winces when she rolls her shoulder. “It’ll be sore, which I can live with. Itcould’ve been so much worse.” She gives me a small smile before unbuckling her seatbelt. “We should go check the damage.”
I follow her lead and round the lopsided vehicle to the passenger side. The front tire is flat to the ground.
“Cursed,” she mumbles. “I’m totally cursed.”
Grabbing my phone, I dial the number for roadside assistance. Although my father was too busy running a business to teach me the basic life skill of how to change a tire, he has never forgotten to pay the annual fee for emergency help.
Just as the perky voice answers, Mallory presses the red button. “No, we don’t need them.” She holds out her hand. “Keys, please.”
My matching keychain from Cade jingles as she moves to the backseat. Folding the seats down, she pulls out a black pouch and a wonky tool that I’ve never seen before. “What the hell is that?”
She gives me a bizarre look. “A jack. Have you never seen one?”
I shake my head, likely unnoticed because Mallory is in problem-solving mode, moving to the next task on her mental agenda. Metal tools from the pouch clang against each other as she puts the pieces together in a way that looks wrong but somehow seems right. After a few minutes, the spare tire lands on the ground from beneath the truck with a thud.
When she moves for it, I step in front of her. “Wait. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
