“I know,” I whisper, hating how small my voice sounds.Hating even more that he’s right.
His hand cups my jaw, his thumb rubbing over my cheek.The tenderness of the gesture makes it worse… makes me want to lean into his palm and forget about promotions and fresh starts and all the very logical reasons this can’t work.
My throat stings as I glance at the time.“All right, well, we better go, or my mom will start asking questions.”
He nods, but he still loosely holds my hand.“And Keith will get suspicious if I’m late.I told him I’d go golfing with him when I got back.”
A small smile plays at the corner of my lips.“That’s a bit cute.”I turn my head, studying him in the daylight as we walk back toward the parking lot.“But you don’t strike me as a golf guy.”
“I’m not.”He shrugs, running a hand through his hair.“Never really played before.It’s not something I did, not even with my dad.But maybe it’ll be nice.Something to do with Keith.A bonding thing.”
I stop beside my car, arms crossed.“What did you and your dad do together?”
His expression shifts slightly.“Watched sports, mostly.He was really into them, so we’d go to games.Nothing much beyond that.”
I nod, letting his words settle between us before I say, “Mom and I used to walk.The kids would go on their bike rides, before, you know, she got too tired.”The flashbacks hit me hard—how she would point out different flowers and trees, and always pack extra snacks.Now she gets exhausted after doing something as simple as showering.
“She’ll get better,” he says gently.“Lots of people live perfectly healthy lives with atrial fibrillation.It’s just the initial diagnosis and adjustment that’s tough.”
“Yeah,” I murmur.“Medication, testing, all of that.”I want to believe him, but the cardiologist’s words about lifestyle changes and monitoring keep playing in my mind.And I can see the worry in Mom’s eyes, even when she’s trying to be optimistic.
A quiet moment passes, and our fingers brush once more.The separation feels wrong, like snapping something I desperately want to hold on to.
When I straighten, I hesitate, glancing at him.
His hands are in his pockets, shoulders slightly tense.“I don’t want this to end.I only just kissed you.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I force out a wry smile.“Worried you’ll need me more than I’ll need you?”
He huffs a quiet laugh.“Come on, don’t make me sound sappy.I know you like that hard-ass side of me.”
“Oh, I know it’s there,” I tease, leaning against the car.“Just… not with me.”
He watches me with that sharp gaze of his.“Nothing like the reporter I thought you were.”
“So, you don’t think I’m Dr.Whisperer now?”
He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up.“Hell no.Deep down, that heart of yours is too big to be malicious.”His gaze softens slightly.“Sure, you added a few twists, made me sound bad without my full story, but… I still don’t love how you painted me in that first article.I get why you did it, though.”
I swallow.“My thoughts on you have changed.I would never write about you like that now.And I’m going to spend tomorrow making sure this article reflects who you really are.Hopefully, the town will see you differently.”
He brushes his hand tenderly against my cheek.“I hope so.”
I smile.“Go have fun at golf.Can’t wait to hear all about it.Text me later.”
“And you… go hang out with your family.Can’t wait to read my article.”
“Oh, you’ll love it.”
“Not too nice.Don’t want to shock the town too much.”
I shake my head.“No, I just want them to see what I see.”
I glance around the lot, noting it’s still empty, but we’re completely exposed out here.Anyone could drive by.His gaze holds mine before he steps closer, stopping me before I can get into my car.“We shouldn’t—” I start, but he’s already moving.
His hand finds my waist, and then his lips are on mine, sending my stomach somersaulting.
I giggle against him, breathless.“God, I feel like a teenager.”But even as I say it, I’m pulling back slightly, my eyes darting toward the road.“Someone could see us.”
