We traded expertise like trail mix and stole little touches where we could, like his hand on my back when the path narrowed, my fingers sliding into his at a clear overlook, and a quick kiss that tasted like coffee and maybe a little bit of I want this.
By the time we reached where we’d parked, the sun had peaked and was on its way down the mountains on the other side of the valley. He leaned his forearms on the cab door of his truck and looked at me like he was trying to commit the moment to memory. I tried to look like it didn’t make my knees weak.
“I’ll drive behind you into town,” he said. “Make sure you get back.”
“I’m not going to veer off a cliff between here and Main Street.”
“Humor me.”
I wanted to say no on principle. I wanted to say yes because I liked the way it felt to have him worrying about me.
“Fine,” I said, and opened the driver’s door.
He closed it again with a palm. “Jessa.”
I looked up. The guarded look was back, softer at the edges but still there. He needed me to meet him where he was. I could do that. But I wasn’t going to carry him the whole way.
“I’m not sorry,” he finally said. “About last night.”
The tightness in my chest eased. “Neither am I.”
He shook his head, jaw flexing. “I need time to figure out how to do this without blowing everything up.”
The words hurt, but they weren’t new. He’d been saying versions of the same thing since the second I walked back into his life.
I could have argued with him or even begged. Badgered him about it until he broke or pushed me away for good. But if Harlan Flint wanted to dig his heels in, I wasn’t going to waste energy slamming against the wall he’d built.
Fine. If I couldn’t move him, I’d move something else.
I wasn’t helpless. I wasn’t sixteen anymore, waiting for someone to decide my future. If he couldn’t believe in us yet, then I’d prove there was something worth believing in anyway.
I pulled a folded sheet from my pack and tucked it into the front pocket of his flannel. “That’s the draft schedule for the weekend. Look it over. I’ll be at the store tomorrow to talk logistics.”
He caught my wrist, his thumb skimming the inside like he couldn’t help himself. “You’re something else, Firecracker.”
For the first time, the nickname didn’t make me mad. “I think you like that about me.”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice quiet. “I do.”
On the drive down, he kept his truck in my rearview like he’d promised. At the turn into town, he flicked his headlights once. I didn’t need a translation.
I parked outside my dad’s place and watched his taillights disappear toward Main. My body ached in a very specific, satisfied way. My heart ached too, but not with the same fear that had been wedged under my ribs since I came home. This ache felt like something I could build around.
I dug my notebook from my bag and added a few more items to my to-do list… practical, concrete things I could control.
Because I couldn’t control Harlan’s fear. I couldn’t control what people around town might say about him. But I could control this: my work, my choices, my voice.
Tomorrow, I’d walk into Big Package with a plan big enough to scare him and save him. I’d look Harlan Flint in the eye and remind him I wasn’t a girl he had to protect himself from.
Time… he’d asked for it. Fine. I could give that to him. At least for a little while.
CHAPTER 7
HARLAN
The next day, I was halfway through counting a big box of paracord when Dane strolled in like he owned the place.
“Good morning.” He set a cardboard box on the counter full of medicine balls. They were a ridiculous shade of neon yellow. “I was cleaning out some stuff in the back of the gym and figured the kids would love trying to toss these around during Adventure Weekend.”
