He shifts his weight, and I glance down—then quickly back up.
“What?” he says, playful suspicion in his voice.
I shake my head, biting my lip. “This is just…really fun. This little morning grocery run.”
His brow lifts. “Yeah? That why you’re staring at me like that?”
“I’m staring,” I say, lowering my voice, “because you’re wearing gray sweats. And well…they’re not very subtle. If you catch my drift.”
A slow, knowing grin spreads across his face. “Sorry. I forgot you were a church lady.”
He grabs a cucumber off a nearby shelf and raises an eyebrow. “Should I grab one of these for inspiration later?”
I nearly choke on my laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”
And then?—
“Faith?”
The name cuts through the aisle like a blade.
I freeze. Turn. And there he is.
Keith.
Hair messy. Eyes bloodshot. Shoulders slumped in a hoodie that looks like he slept in it. He blinks a few times, as if he doesn’t believe it’s really me.
“Keith,” I say slowly. Calmly. My heart’s hammering, but not from fear. From clarity.
Hunter looks at me. “You want a minute?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
He doesn’t move far—just steps to the end of the aisle, still in earshot, pretending to examine hot sauce. And somehow, that gives me strength.
Keith scratches the back of his neck. “I didn’t think I’d… run into you.”
“Clearly.”
He nods, eyes scanning me, then flicking briefly toward Hunter before landing back on me. “Him, really? A Holloway?”
“And you don’t get to comment on him. It’s my life, Keith.”
Keith swallows. “Look, I was an idiot. I know that. I was scared. Of commitment, of… I don’t know. All of it. But I’ve been thinking a lot. And I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything. I know I hurt you.”
I take a breath. A long one.
“I’m not angry anymore, Keith,” I say. “But I also don’t have anything left for you. You didn’t love me—you wanted someone who fit inside your world. Someone quiet. Convenient. Who wouldn’t question what you did or challenge you. And I played that role for a long time because I thought it was what I deserved.”
He shifts his weight. “That’s not fair?—”
“It’s true,” I interrupt gently. “And you know it. You never saw me. Not really. But I’m starting to now. And I don’t belong in that version of my life anymore.”
Silence stretches between us. And for the first time ever, I’m not filling it. I’m not trying to smooth it over or spare his feelings.
“I hope you figure yourself out,” I add. “But I’m done shrinking for people who won’t meet me where I am.”
Keith opens his mouth. Closes it again. Nods. “Okay,” he murmurs. “You look… good.”
