"I don't know. I didn't order anything." She opens the door, and Gage Bennett is standing on her porch holding a bundle of firewood.
"Heard you were running low," Gage says, then notices me. His eyebrow lifts. "Ryder. Didn't know you were here."
"We were just—" Piper starts.
"Hanging out," I finish, because what else can I say?
"Right." Gage's mouth twitches like he knows exactly what we were doing. "Well, I'll just leave this wood here and?—"
"Come in," Piper says, stepping back. "Please. I should get this stacked before it gets dark anyway."
Gage brings in the wood while I grab the pile and start stacking it near the stove the way I showed her before. Gage helps, and we work in silence that feels loaded. The whole time I'm hyperaware of how close Piper and I were before he knocked, of the conversation that got interrupted.
Once the wood's properly stacked, Gage straightens, brushing bark off his hands. "So. You two. Dating now?"
"Yeah," I say, the same time Piper says, "It's new."
"Mm-hmm." Gage's expression is knowing, and I'm reminded that the whole town watched him and Tessa dance around each other for months. "Word of advice? Stop making it complicated."
"It's not complicated," Piper says.
"Really? Because I walked in on enough tension to power the whole town." He looks between us. "Look, I'm not going to pretend I know what's going on here. But I know Ryder, andI've seen how he looks at you. So whatever this is—figure it out before someone gets hurt."
"We're fine," I say.
"Sure you are." Gage heads for the door, then pauses. "Ryder, can I talk to you for a second?"
I follow him outside, leaving Piper to reorganize her firewood or whatever she does to process stress.
Gage walks a few feet away, hands shoved in his pockets. "You want to tell me what's really going on?"
"It's complicated."
"Most good things are." He's quiet for a moment. "When Tessa first moved here, I told myself I was just being neighborly. Helping her out. No strings, no feelings, just being a decent human being."
"And?"
"And I was lying to myself." He meets my eyes. "I was gone for her from day one. But I kept fighting it, telling myself it was just neighborly help, making excuses. Nearly lost her because I was too stubborn to admit what I was feeling. You know what I learned?"
"What?"
"Fighting it just makes it worse. If you like her—really like her—stop pretending you don't."
"It's not that simple. She's only here temporarily. I've got scouts watching my every move. Everything's complicated right now."
"Life's always complicated. There's always a reason to wait, to play it safe." He meets my eyes. "But I waited too long with Tessa. Kept telling myself it wasn't the right time, that I had other priorities. Nearly lost her because I was too stubborn to admit what I was feeling."
"What if she doesn't feel the same way?"
"Then you deal with it. But from where I was standing, she looked at you the same way you're looking at her right now." He claps my shoulder. "Simple doesn't mean easy. But it's better than lying to yourself."
He leaves, and I stand on Piper's porch, staring at the mountains and trying to pretend my whole world hasn't just turned upside down.
Simple doesn't mean easy.
I head back inside. Piper's sitting on her couch, phone in hand, staring at nothing.
"You okay?" I ask.
