Rambo huffed at me, clearly convinced I was an idiot, and kept walking.
“You don’t understand. It wasn’t a minor falling out. He left. He chose his fancy future over...” Over what? I hadn’t offered him what he wanted.
I could’ve sworn Rambo rolled his eyes as he tugged at the leash, dragging me towards town. I followed him, my thoughts tangled around Luke, the email, and the embarrassing hope that had flared in my chest. I wanted my best friend back.
We turned onto Sugar Street, the cute shopping district. The historic charm of the colonial buildings only made me grumpier. Why had Luke been so desperate to leave this? Maple Crossing was fucking amazing.
I slowed my pace, heart hammering. What was I doing? I wasn’t ready for this. I’d spent six years constructing a life without Luke, learning to function without my other half.
I spotted him through the cafe’s large front window. He was at the counter, back to the door. He was easy to pick out as he stood out like a sore thumb next to the shop’s usual customers; touristsand granola-crunchy Vermont hippies. Luke, on the other hand, was dressed for work in the city, in dark slacks that were tailored to his body and a soft sweater that must have been cashmere. He probably thought that made his outfit casual.
“Stay here.” I looped Rambo’s leash around the cafe’s bike rack and gave his ears a reassuring scratch. “I’ll be back soon.”
Rambo sighed dramatically and started drinking from the dog bowl next to the bike rack. I took a deep breath and made a futile attempt to smooth my hair. There was no way my battered flannel jacket and work boots could ever match Luke’s city polish, so I gave up and pushed open the door.
The warm, coffee-scented air enveloped me as I stepped inside. Luke was still at the counter, talking to the barista. He folded his arms, and the soft cotton of his henley stretched tight across his chest and shoulders in a way that made my throat go dry.
Six years, and my body still remembered exactly how close we used to stand—close enough that I could feel the heat coming off him, close enough that one small shift would have brought our mouths together.
I watched as he leaned in, accepting a tray of steaming mugs from the barista. My heart skipped a beat as I wondered if he’d ordered for both of us.
For a moment, I believed this could work—that we could restore our old friendship. That the Luke I knew was still in there somewhere, beneath the designer clothes and the perfect hair.
I hated noticing. Hated that I still wanted to believe in him.
As he moved, the muscles of his back shifted under the sweater, and my stomach tightened—a familiar ache I’d spent years pretending wasn’t there. He laughed at something the barista said, as charming as ever.
I used to know the exact shape of those shoulders under my hands, the way his breath caught when I crowded him against a wall when our roughhousing got a little out of hand.
Why hadn’t I realized how attractive I found him? It seemed stupidly obvious now.
I waited for him to notice me, but he didn’t look over. Not once.
Heat prickled at the back of my neck—part embarrassment, part something darker. Was I invisible? I’d spent the whole walk prepping for impact, for the collision of his eyes on mine, but now it was like I didn’t exist at all.
Luke turned toward the door, sunlight slanting through the front windows and highlighting the sharp line of his jaw. My heart was in my throat, a sinking drop like that nightmare moment when you realize you’re falling with nothing underneath you.
I almost called out.
But I bit it back, jaw clenched so tight my teeth ached. If he wanted to ignore me, fine. I’d survived worse. But why email me?
He bumped the door open with his hip, juggling the tray of drinks, and I watched through the glass as he crossed the street. He didn’t once check to see if I’d shown up like he’d fucking asked.
What the hell was this? A dumb game?
A small part of me hoped there was a reasonable excuse. But I was tired. Tired of being the one who waited, who got left behind.
Tired of missing him.
Chapter 3
Mioko
Luke returned to TappedAmber far too quickly for there to have been any sort of meaningful reunion.
He hadn’t even been gone fifteen minutes, and the tray of coffees he carried still looked piping hot. How? Had Eli not shown? Had they argued?
Or had he never even seen Eli? Fuck, I should have found a way to tell Luke Eli would be there.
