“Tell me something,” she says finally.
“What?” I ask.
“Why me? Out of all the women in Cedar Ridge, why the one Thompson woman you’re supposed to stay away from?”
It’s a good question, and one I’ve been asking myself.
“Honestly?” I say. “I have no idea. Maybe because you’re the one we’re supposed to stay away from.”
“That’s not a good reason.”
“Maybe not,” Jesse says.
“Or maybe,” Wyatt adds, “it’s not about reasons at all. Maybe it’s just about connection.”
“Connection?”
“The way you laughed when Boone spun you around the dance floor,” he explains. “The way you challenge Jesse when he’s being an ass. The way you look at me when you think I’m not watching.”
“How do I look at you?”
“Like you see something that no one else does.”
“Like what? What do I see?”
“I don’t know. You tell me,” Wyatt says.
A shooting star streaks across the sky.
“Oh, wow. Did you see that? Make a wish,” I tell her.
“I don’t believe in wishes.”
“Make one anyway.”
She closes her eyes for a moment, and I wonder what she’s wishing for. When she opens them again, she’s looking at me with an expression I can’t read.
“What did you wish for?” Jesse asks.
“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”
“Superstitious?”
“Practical. If I don’t tell you, I can’t be disappointed when it doesn’t happen.”
“Pessimistic, too,” I observe.
“Realistic.”
“Same thing, sometimes.”
The conversation lapses into comfortable silence again. Callie pulls the extra blanket tight around her shoulders, and without thinking about it, I scoot closer to keep her warm.
“Cold?” I ask.
“A little.”
“Better?”
