“Night, Dax,” she says softly.
“Night, Red.”
She hesitates, then leans in and kisses my cheek.
It’s nothing.
And it’s everything.
I watch her disappear inside, the porch light clicking off a second later.
The embers inside me burn hotter.
Because I know the truth.
And I know Valentine’s Day is coming.
And I know I’m running out of time to decide whether I’m brave enough to let her hate me—or lose her forever.
Chapter 4
Rory
Itell myself I’m not nervous.
That this is normal. Exciting. Silly, even. A fun little Valentine’s mystery that will either end in a great story or a polite laugh over drinks.
Still, my hands shake as I smooth my dress for the third time.
The café is closed early tonight, the lights dimmed, pink hearts strung across the windows like a Candyland storefront. The Devil’s Brew glows across the street, already buzzing with Valentine’s energy—candles, laughter, couples leaning close like the world might end if they don’t touch.
I glance at the clock.
Forty minutes.
I’ve read his last letter twice already.
I’ll be the one waiting for you.
Simple. Confident. Familiar in a way that curls something low in my belly.
I lock the café door and turn—nearly colliding with a broad chest that smells like smoke and winter and something unmistakably male.
“Jesus, Dax.”
He steadies me by the elbows, hands warm and solid. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
His eyes flick down my body before he catches himself. The look lingers anyway.
“You’re dressed up,” he says.
I lift a shoulder. “It’s Valentine’s.”
His jaw tightens. He releases me like it costs him something. “Right.”
I grab my coat, shrugging into it. “Firehouse duty tonight?”
“On call because of the storm,” he says. “It was a last minute thing. Might be busy.”
