They pulled back onto the road, the sun setting lower in the sky now.
Dinner was at one of the bars in town—a cozy place with scarred wood floors, low amber lighting, and the hum ofconversation blending with the clink of glasses despite their early-bird arrival. Fern slid into the booth across from Crew, her knee brushing his beneath the table.
“How many bars are there in Willowbrook, anyway?” She glanced around.
He smirked. “Six.”
She lifted a brow. “Only six?”
“The seventh is closed because it’s changing owners.”
She laughed. “Okay. Then how many churches?”
Crew barked out a laugh. “That’s the joke. Willowbrook’s got more bars than churches.”
They shared a smile that had her insides pooling with heat and anticipation for what happened after dinner.
Their food arrived, but Fern barely noticed it. She picked at her plate, eyes drifting instead to the way Crew’s forearms flexed when he lifted his glass of iced tea, the way his gaze lingered on her mouth a second longer than necessary. The pub itself faded into background noise. The décor, the food, the music—none of it mattered as much as the charged space between them.
Beneath the table, her foot bumped his boot. His stare met hers. For a heartbeat, they both acknowledged the touch.
She didn’t move away, liking how the smile lingered in his eyes.
She leaned forward slightly. “At the post office…those letters. What were they for?”
He wiped his lips with the paper napkin in such a manly way that her insides jumped. “A project with Gray. You see, he was a pilot too.”
She strained toward him, listening to what he said and what he didn’t say.
“I lost my copilot…but he lost his entire Navy aircraft carrier.”
She stared at him, stunned. “Wait—I remember that being in the news.”
He nodded. “A tragedy that the nation bears, but Gray carries it the most. He spends his spare time writing to families. I help him as a sort of passion project.”
Something softened in her chest. She felt her throat go tight.
“I tried to do the same thing for my copilot’s family,” he went on. “Didn’t get the closure I hoped for.”
Fern studied him. “I understand how difficult it can be not to get closure.”
His gaze shot to hers. “Yeah?”
“I left in the middle of the night,” she said quietly. “Changed my career. Hid my location. Changed my number. I disappeared because it was the only way I could breathe again. And I spent a long time afterward trying to close that chapter of my life.”
His eyes darkened with something fierce and protective. Something that stole her breath.
At that moment, his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced down and smiled, unlocking it without hesitation.
“My sister,” he said. “Remember I told you about the TV series we watch together? She’s asking if you want to join us next time.”
Fern’s heart skipped. “You told her about me?”
“I tell her pretty much everything.” His thumbs hovered over the screen, but he looked to Fern before texting a reply. “We can skip it this week if you’re not feeling it. Or we can go back to the lodge for the watch party. The only thing Pope likes as much as playing poker is flirting with my sister.”
She smiled, thinking of the ruggedly handsome vet…and the shadow of pain in his eyes he guarded until he thought no one was looking.
She considered the options. “Sounds like another date. But tonight…I’d like it to just be us. Let’s go back to my place.”
