“I’m thanking you again. Deal with it.”
“Bossy,” Wyatt observes.
“You love it,” she shoots back without thinking, then freezes. “I mean?—”
“We do,” Boone says simply. “We love it.”
The word hangs in the air.Love. It’s too soon for that, way too soon.
Or not.
We walkCallie home as the sun sets, all four of us moving slowly because none of us wants the day to end. She’s carrying what’s left of her pie, Rita trotting beside her, and there’s something about the picture that makes my chest tight.
“Your dad’s probably waiting with an AK-47,” Boone says cheerfully.
“He doesn’t own an AK-47,” Callie says.
“He might have bought one specifically for this occasion,” I suggest.
“That would require him leaving the house and facing everyone in town, so probably not.”
“What if he ordered one from Amazon?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
We reach the property line, that invisible border that’s supposed to separate us but hasn’t done a damn thing these past few days.
“This is where we leave you,” Wyatt says formally.
“Unless you want company,” Boone adds.
“My dad would explode. Like, actually combust.”
“That would solve several problems,” I point out.
“Jesse!” She swats at me, laughing.
“What? I’m just being practical.”
“You’ve never been practical.”
“I’m perfectly practical.”
“You’re perfectly practically delusional.”
“Same thing.”
“Today was so much fun,” she says. “Thank you.”
“Stop thanking us,” Wyatt says.
“Make me,” she challenges.
So I do. I kiss her right there at the property line, with the sun setting and the goat watching and my brothers rolling their eyes. She melts into me, her free hand tangling in my shirt, and for a moment, everything else disappears.
When we break apart, she’s flushed and breathing hard.
“Unfair,” she protests weakly.
