He studies me for a long moment, like he wants to argue. Like he’s holding something back.
Instead, he smiles.
“Well,” he says lightly, grabbing his coffee carrier, “sounds like someone’s lucky.”
“Maybe,” I say.
He hesitates at the door. “Valentine’s coming up.”
“I know.”
“You meeting him?”
I swallow. “We’re supposed to.”
He nods once. “Good.”
Something about the way he says it twists low in my stomach.
“See you tomorrow, Red,” he says.
I watch him leave, the bell chiming softly behind him, the warmth lingering longer than it should.
Only when the door closes do I look down at the envelope again.
My hands are shaking.
I have a feeling this Valentine’s Day is about to burn everything wide open.
Chapter 3
Dax
Itell myself it started as a favor.
That’s the story I repeat when I’m standing in the cold, keys in my hand, watching Rory through the café window like I don’t already know every inch of her smile.
A year ago, the town clerk mentioned the Valentine’s pen pal exchange like it was nothing. A small-town gimmick. Anonymous letters. A little harmless romance to keep people warm through winter.
Rory’s name came up.
She hadn’t signed up. Someone else had—probably one of her friends who thought it was funny. Or romantic. Or inevitable.
I should’ve walked away.
Instead, I slid a twenty across the counter and said, “Match me with her.”
The clerk raised a brow. “That ethical?”
I smiled like it didn’t matter. “It’s Valentine’s.”
That was my first lie.
The second came easier.
I told myself it was temporary. One letter. Maybe two. Something sweet so she wouldn’t feel stood up or embarrassed.
But the first time I wrote her name, something cracked open in my chest.
