Tomorrow, I would have to find the courage to tell Trace the truth. All of it.
Tonight, I would let myself pretend for a few more hours that I hadn't already lost him.
CHAPTER 5
TRACE
I’d been taking my frustration out on a huge pile of logs behind my cabin when the sound of tires on gravel made me pause mid-swing. Through the trees, I could see Sabrina's truck winding up my drive, moving slower than usual, like she was having second thoughts about paying an unexpected visit.
I set the axe against the chopping block and wiped my hands on my jeans. She hadn’t been to my place since things went sideways between us. The fact that she was here now, when we'd been sidestepping each other all week, made my pulse kick up.
Her truck door slammed, but she didn't immediately head toward the porch. Instead, she stood there for a long beat, staring at the cabin in the early evening light like she was seeing it for the first time. Or maybe like she was trying to memorize it.
“So, were you just in the neighborhood?” I called out.
Her head swung my way in surprise, then she walked toward me and held up a folder. "Marla sent me over with the final setup plans. She had to rush off to handle some crisis with the linen supplier, but she wanted to make sure we went over the timeline together tonight."
The way she said it, like she was reciting lines Marla had fed her, made something tight in my chest loosen just a fraction. “Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, it's just—” She let out a soft laugh. "You know Marla. She's got us running around like it’s last-minute when we’re still three weeks away. She said something about needing someone to double-check the measurements for the arch placement too. Mimi changed her mind about the arbor and wants it to look more like a pergola now.”
I studied her face… the way the porch light caught the gold flecks in her eyes and the slight pink flush on her cheeks from the cold. She looked tired, but there was something else there. Something softer than the way she’d been brushing me off all week.
"Come inside," I said. "We can spread everything out on the table."
She followed me up the porch steps and through the front door. The cabin felt different with her in it again. She'd helped me pick out half the furniture when I first moved in and had spent countless evenings curled up on the couch with a book while I worked on projects at the kitchen table.
Now she stood near the door, hesitant but not resisting. Like maybe she was starting to remember that she used to fit in here.
I grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge and handed her one. Our fingers brushed when she took it, and I felt that familiar jolt of awareness that never seemed to fade, no matter how much distance we put between us.
"So what's Marla worried about now?" I asked, trying to keep things light.
She opened the folder and spread several papers across my kitchen table. "She's concerned about the wind coming off the mountain. Mimi is requesting a gentle breeze but doesn’t want the greenery or flowers to get blown off the pergola.”
“Does she actually think we have any control over Mother Nature?” I teased.
Sabrina rolled her eyes. “She might. I wish I could tell her to take a hike, but your Aunt Marla would never forgive me.” She leaned over the table and pointed at a hand-drawn diagram. “If we set up a few decorative panels along the edge of the property, it could minimize the effect of the wind.”
“You should suggest bringing in a couple dozen thirty-foot pines instead. Don’t you think a natural barrier would be better?” I was joking and she knew it.
“Don’t tempt me. If I thought I could pull that off without some excavator leaving marks all over the lawn I might suggest it.” She glanced back at the drawing. “We also need to make sure we take the photographer into account. Mimi said he has to be able to shoot the ceremony at the right angles."
I moved next to her, close enough to see the papers but still far enough to maintain a little distance. Except when she shifted to point to another section, her shoulder brushed against my arm, and I caught the scent of her shampoo. The smell of coconut reminded me of summer afternoons when we’d go swimming at the lake. I took a deep inhale and remembered how seeing her in that pink and black bikini used to drive me wild.
"This looks pretty straightforward," I said, trying to focus on the diagrams instead of how much I wanted to brush her hair out of the way when she bent over my table.
"Does it?" She looked up at me, and suddenly we were much closer than I'd realized. Close enough that I could see the faint freckles across her nose that only showed when she'd been in the sun. "Because Marla made it sound like rocket science when she was explaining it to me."
Her laugh was genuine this time, not the careful, polite version I’d been hearing all week. It made something warm unfurl in my chest.
“My aunt has always been dramatic," I said. "Remember when she thought the haunted hayride needed a little something extra and she hired Harvey Gates to show up with a chainsaw?”
"And the horses freaked out and bolted?” Sabrina's smile was real now, unguarded. “We’re lucky they headed straight back to the barn, and no one got hurt.”
“Some things never change,” I said.
We stood there for a moment, the old familiarity settling between us like a comfortable blanket. But then she seemed to catch herself, and some of the warmth faded from her smile.
