"Says who?"
"Says... common sense. Logic. The entire concept of—"
My phone buzzes. We both look at it.
Madison:Bull riding starting soon. Wish you were here to explain what makes a good ride. All I know is they have to stay on for 8 seconds.
Another buzz.
Madison:Also I saved you a cinnamon bun. It's getting cold.
And another.
Madison:That sounded sadder than I meant it to.
Something cracks open in my chest. I can picture her perfectly: standing at her service window, phone in hand, watching the arena fill up with people while she sets aside a pastry for a man three hours away.
I pick up my phone and type before I can talk myself out of it.
Jake:Warm it up. I'll be right there.
I'm already standing, already grabbing my keys from the table.
"Wait, what?" Emma sits up straight. "What are you doing?"
"Something reckless."
"Jake—"
"Something I should have done five days ago." I shove my phone in my pocket and head for the door.
"Jake!" Emma calls after me. "Your laptop!"
I don't stop. I don't even look back. I just push through the door and into the cold afternoon air, my heart pounding against my ribs like it's trying to escape.
Heart River is about two hours away.
Two hours.
I can make it in one and a half if I push it.
*****
The parking area is emptying out when I pull in, the last of the day's attendees streaming toward their trucks and trailers. The sun is setting behind the mountains, painting everything in shades of orange and pink, and the air smells like hay and popcorn and something sweeter underneath that I instantly recognize.
Cinnamon. Vanilla.
I spot her truck near the back of the vendor area. Then I see her.
She's standing at the back of the truck, phone mounted on what looks like a small tripod, talking animatedly to the camera. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail and she's wearing that same flour-dusted apron, and she's so beautiful it actually hurts to look at her.
"—honestly the highlight was this little girl who came back three days in a row for the apple fritters. Her mom said she'd never seen her eat fruit before, so I'm counting that as a win for—"
She stops mid-sentence. Her eyes have found me, walking toward her across the packed dirt lot.
"Madison."
"Jake?" She blinks, like she's not sure I'm real. "What are you—how are you—I thought you were joking."
