CHAPTER 23
Hattie
It had been a long time since I’d gone on a date with anyone. I wondered if this could count as a date. He’d bought me dinner and a drink, so I’d say it did.
I felt bad that I hadn’t told Sydney about Kipp, but I wasn’t sure yet if I wanted to share the details. If he had just been a one-night stand, I wouldn’t have hesitated, but… it already felt like something was pulling me toward wanting something more. I wanted to keep Kipp to myself for a little bit longer.
Traveling for work didn’t exactly help me succeed in relationships. Plus, the nature of my job complicated things. Even if a long-distance relationship could work, what would it actually entail when my mind was always elsewhere? When Jane disappeared, there was someone, but my full attention turned to finding my sister. I wasn’t even interested in pretending and trying to stay together, and he was more than happy to walk away.
Since then, I’d been content to have a drink here or there with someone, and possibly more on a weekend assignment. But I never found anyone who inspired me to stay in touch.
With Kipp, I’d felt that spark immediately, which was why I didn’t hesitate to fall into bed with him. This outing confirmed that the attraction I initially felt for him wasn’t just a one-time thing. We shared many of the same beliefs, although I wasn’t a fan of being told where I could and couldn’t go. There was still the matter of his hesitation about my job, but it seemed like he was coming around. I wasn’t going to make this a relationship or anything deep, I reasoned, even as a little voice whispered that itcouldbe…
When I’d traced my fingers over his heart, the music from the stage only seemed like a whisper behind us. It wasn’t even a song anymore to my ears, but just a vibration settling against the ground.
It was beautiful here in this little town, with the kids running between the booths, calling to each other, and the parents strolling arm in arm. It was charming. The solid heat of Kipp’s body anchored me, and Fish pressed against my legs, wiggling every once in a while, begging for a pet.
The impulse to kiss him hit me like an electric shiver under my skin, sharp enough that I must have tilted toward him without meaning to, because he caught me with a gaze that was nothing if not aware. His hand roseslowly, as if he were navigating through a field of invisible wires, and his knuckles grazed the side of my jaw in a gesture so careful it felt like he was checking whether he’d burn if he touched me fully. Leaning into him was like finally being able to take that next breath when you’ve been underwater, and you come to the surface for air.
Coming to my cabin in the dark felt different than kissing in front of the whole town where his family could see. I knew all about how fast gossip traveled, like it was on a rail, and the brakes were broken.
We’d clashed the other night, hard and fast. While we’d learned each other soon enough, it felt different out here in the world, knowing it was marking another moment. Now, with the way his fingers traced along my jaw and then back down my neck, he was tender and gentle.
“Let’s get you home,” he murmured, voice pitched low, threaded with understanding. “We can stay at your cabin, or you can stay at mine, so you aren’t alone.”
Nodding and unable to trust my voice, I reached for him instead. My hand hooked through his arm, mimicking the couples around us, but I couldn’t help but grasp onto his bicep with my other hand as well. Multiple points of contact were what I wanted. He smiled down at me.
“I like that, Trouble, a lot... Your hand on me.”
The smile was easy to give him as I tilted upward to look at him walking beside me, but my nose wrinkled at him. “Trouble? That’s an undeserved nickname.” It wasn’t really. Everywhere I went, I tended to make waves. Kipp had no idea.
He laughed easily. “Somehow I have a feeling that you’re lying through your teeth.”
We left the festival in near silence, just soaking up the lights and the people moving around us. Fish trotted ahead with a happy, bouncing gait, as if he’d appointed himself escort for the night. People moved around us in noisy pockets—laughing, carrying paper plates, calling out goodnights—but the sounds seemed to slip past without touching us. It felt like we’d stepped sideways into a private corridor in the world, one that the crowd instinctively shifted to avoid.
“I have the rest of the weekend off, so in the morning we can come back for your car if you want? Or we can take both cars back tonight. Up to you.” He lobbed the question over to me.
My schedule was fluid, and my time was honestly my own. I very rarely took time for myself. “We can take just one car if you can for sure drive me back tomorrow. I have a few things to do, but I’m flexible.”
The cabins appearedthrough the darkness, with the lights set up glowing cheerily. The family in Cabin Three was back from their adventures, and the car wasparked next to the porch. The whole crew had piled in this morning, chatting about going on to town and then a picnic, with the mom already looking frazzled. It made me smile to see such normal behavior alongside some of the stories I covered.
My cabin’s porch light was in its own small pocket of warmth as we rolled up. Kipp slowed immediately, scanning the tree line with the reflexive attentiveness of someone trained to anticipate problems before they announced themselves.
“You’re jumpy,” I murmured, my voice rough enough that it scraped a little on the way out.
He didn’t deny it. He didn’t even look embarrassed.“Pays to be careful,” he said, eyes flicking between the shadows and me. “And I know too much about the wrong kind of people ever to take chances. Just keeping an eye. Now that your podcast is out, you’ve probably got some people gunning for you. Galloway and Trent Finch, just for starters.”
A strange, tight warmth curled low in my stomach—dangerous territory, that level of care. I tried to make my tone light, but it betrayed me.
“You worried about me?”
He turned fully then, meeting my gaze without flinching, without hesitation. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
The airescaped from me as a quiet, trembling sound that felt too loud in the stillness surrounding the cabin. My parents were worried about me, especially my mother, but it was different. After Jane, they worried because the thought of losing another daughter was a real fear, but they changed afterward. We all changed in different ways. I dove headfirst into the podcast, and they got divorced. My father detached from everything. Neither of my parents could stand to look at me. My mother handled it better than he did, but she still flinched whenever we were together. As the years went by, I started making excuses for not visiting. Jane and I had been identical twins, and my mother just couldn’t bear the reminder. For her, it was like looking at a ghost, I guess. It didn’t matter that I was still here.
I’d never had a man worry about me before. That felt new. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t mean to say it, but the words slipped out anyway. That’s what I always told my mom. Biting my lip, I shifted my gaze away, feeling uncomfortable.
“You don’t have to be sorry. My feelings aren’t your problems.” His voice softened, as if some internal armor had shifted out of the way. “And you don’t owe me any explanations about how you get your work done, but maybe while you’re here, you’ll let me go with you if you’re going somewhere remote. I can be flexible with my work sometimes.” He gauged the look on my face, and taking in my scrunched-up eyebrows, he recalibrated. “Think on it.”
