"I need to ask you something," Rachel says, her tone shifting. "And I want you to be honest with me."
My stomach tightens. "Okay."
"I've seen the way you look at her—I know how you feel. But Steph... she's been through so much. If this is you being protective and she's just going along with it because she feels safe with you, I need you to be careful. I love you both, and I don't want to see either of you get hurt."
The question lands like a punch.
Because that's what this is, isn't it? Me being protective. Steph's going along with it because it makes her feel safe. A fake relationship that I'm desperately hoping will turn real.
"I would never hurt her," I say, and that much is true. "Never."
"I know you wouldn't. Not on purpose." Rachel's quiet for a moment. "Just... make sure you two are on the same page, okay? Communication. That's all I'm saying."
"Yeah," I say. "I will."
After we hang up, I sit there with the phone in my hand, staring at nothing.
Rachel's right. Steph and I need to talk about what this is and where it's going because there is so much more here.
But I'm terrified of that conversation. What if she says it's all fake? What if she tells me she's just playing along until Elliott is dealt with, and then we go back to being friends?
What if I've been reading this all wrong, and she doesn't feel what I feel?
I swallow hard and shove the phone into my pocket.
Not today. I'm not ready for that conversation today.
***
"We need groceries," Steph announces later that morning, appearing in the kitchen with wet hair and wearing jeans that should be illegal. "And by 'we,' I mean me, but you're coming because apparently you've appointed yourself my bodyguard."
I lean against the counter, coffee in hand. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It's not a bad thing." She grabs her own mug, adding enough sugar to give a normal person a cavity. "It's just... you don't have to go grocery shopping with me, Kevin. I can handle the produce section alone."
"Noted. I'm still coming."
She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. "Fine. But if you judge my cereal choices, I'm evicting you."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Twenty minutes later, we're at the grocery store, and I'm realizing that running errands with Steph in Evergreen Lakes is a full-contact sport.
We make it exactly three aisles before we run into Mrs. Emerson from the library.
"Steph! Kevin!" She beams at us, a cart full of what looks like supplies for a church bake sale. "How are you two lovebirds doing?"
"Great," Steph says, her smile a little strained.
Mrs. Emerson's gaze drops to the space between us—specifically, the lack of physical contact—and I see the exactmoment she clocks it as weird. Because if we're dating, why aren't we touching?
I slide my arm around Steph's waist, pulling her against my side. She stiffens for half a second, then relaxes into me with a naturalness that makes my heart skip.
"Still getting used to all the attention," I say. "You know how it is."
"Oh, of course!" Mrs. Emerson laughs. "Well, you two make a lovely couple. Simply lovely."
When she moves on, Steph looks up at me. "Smooth."
