Elle nods in understanding, her pace matching mine effortlessly. "It sounds like your parents are juggling a lot, but they have each other, while you—"
"While I do it all on my own," I finish for her. “But, she’s worth it. Everything I do is for her. Some days, it feels like I’m juggling a million things at once—work, running a business, keeping up with school stuff for her—but then she gives me that smile, and I remember why I do it. It’s all for her.”
We crest the hill, and Elle’s pace picks up again, her stride lengthening as if she’s got an extra gear hidden somewhere. I push myself to keep up, but she’s fast—too fast for me to maintainfor long.
The end of the trail is in sight, a small clearing with a bench under a big oak tree. Elle glances over at me, her breath even, despite her faster pace. “Bet you a smoothie I beat you to the bench,” she teases, a playful glint in her eye.
I roll my eyes but smile, already knowing I’ve lost this race. “I’ll take that bet,” I reply, digging deep to close the gap, though it’s clear she’s got this one in the bag.
Sure enough, Elle reaches the bench just as I’m rounding the final curve. She’s standing there, hands on her hips, waiting for me to catch up.
“Looks like you win,” I say, a breathless chuckle escaping me.
Elle laughs, her chest rising and falling with the rhythm of her breathing. “Told you,” she says, wiping a hand across her forehead. “Next time, though, I won’t go easy on you.”
I try to catch my breath, smiling back at her.
We both take a moment, hands on our knees, catching our breath as the quiet of the park settles around us. The run is over, but the conversation is just beginning.
Chapter 3
Danielle
Cal walks toward me holding a strawberry smoothie for me and a cup of coffee for himself.
When he hands it over, our eyes meet, and for a beat, the world narrows. His eyes are impossibly blue, like the sky after a summer storm—calm, clear, endless. The kind of blue that makes you forget what you were about to say. And oddly, it stirs something familiar.
Not a memory exactly. More like a feeling. Like I’ve looked into those eyes before, even though I know I haven’t.
“Elle?”
“Huh?” I blink, snapping out of it. “Sorry… you caught me.”
“Caught you?” he asks, a flicker of amusement in his voice.
“I don’t know,” I say slowly, still unsettled. “I just had this weird sense of déjà vu. Like I’ve been here before... with you.”
"Have you…" he says, pausing for a beat, "been dreaming about me?" One eyebrow arches as a smirk plays on his lips.
"Oh, please," I say with a soft chuckle. "You wish."
Cal laughs, the sound low and easy. “Can you blame me for asking? You did look at me like I stepped out of a dream.”
“More like a glitch in the Matrix,” I tease, taking a sip of the smoothie. “Delicious, by the way.”
He watches me for a second, his expression softening. “Are you talking about the drink… or me in your dreams?”
I shake my head, unable to keep from smiling. The strange sense of familiarity begins to fade, replaced by a pull, something tempting. A feeling that seems to be the start of something special.
Cal sits next to me on the bench, the sleeve of his T-shirt pulled snug across his arm, revealing the detailed ink that spirals from his wrist to his shoulder. I try not to stare, but the artwork draws me in—layered, personal, and intricate.
"Tell me about your tattoos," I say, leaning just a little closer, unable to stop my eyes from tracing the shapes. “There’s a story here. I can feel it.”
He glances down at his arm and gives a small, thoughtful smile. “Yeah… there’s a few.”
He turns his wrist slightly, revealing the first part. "These are my uncle’s dog tags," he says. "He fought in the Gulf War. I had them inked exactly as they were. Same shape, same chain, even his name and number."
"Nathan Reed," I say quietly. “That’s… incredibly sweet.” And insanely attractive, I want to add, but don't. A man who honors his family like that? Dangerous levels of swoon.
