For the first time since coming home, I don’t feel like I’m running. Not from my family. Not from the past. Not from myself.
Maybe tomorrow won’t change everything. But it might be gross, weird, and exactly what I need.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
You Were Naked In There?
Yesterday, I witnessed a miracle.
Dad was fully awake when Jasper and I arrived at the hospital. They talked. They laughed. They forgave each other with quiet words and a long overdue hug. We ate lunch together—something simple, something perfect. And when Dad finally dozed off, Jasper and I stayed behind to watch him sleep. Not out of obligation, but because we wanted to.
It was strange. Bittersweet, maybe. But it was ours. A moment stitched into the fabric of our messy, broken, slowly healing family.
Jasper even offered to go to the hospital alone this morning to sit with Dad, which is why I find myself slipping on sneakers, about to climb into Brooks’ old truck with no real destination in mind.
Just him, me, and the open road.
Let’s see where the wind takes us.
"You want to grab coffee first?" Brooks asks as he opens the passenger door for me, like he’s been doing it forever.
"Sure," I say, sliding into the seat.
He doesn’t shut the door right away. Instead, he leans in, one arm braced against the frame as he studies me like I’m a puzzle he’s halfway through solving.
"What?" I ask, my voice tightening with self-consciousness. "Do I have something on my face?"
"No," he says slowly, eyebrow ticking up. "I’m just trying to figure out why you’re being so… nice to me."
I shrug, playing it cool even though my pulse skips. "Maybe I’m tired of the back and forth."
He smirks. "You mean the undeniable sexual tension?"
I scoff so hard I almost choke. "No."
No. Nope. Not letting him be right. Even if the cab suddenly feels five degrees hotter.
"Sure," he drawls, eyes twinkling. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Ellie."
And then he shuts my door with a little too much satisfaction. I stare straight ahead and take a steadying breath. This is not sexual tension. This is… mild heatstroke. Confusing proximity. Friendly banter with a guy who happens to be built like a forest god and once told me I was his first crush. Totally normal. Definitely not a problem. Except maybe for my heart rate.
He slides behind the wheel. "I was thinking we could head south today. Fewer tourists. Better views."
"Sounds good to me." I roll down the window and stick my arm out into the morning warmth, pretending the breeze is enough to cool the flush rising in my cheeks. "Wait, don’t you have a whole town to shuttle around today?"
Brooks flashes me a sideways glance, his hands casually gripping the wheel, the tan on his forearms criminal. "Janice is covering for me."
"She do that often?" I ask, trying to sound indifferent.
"Only when I have something more important to do," he quips, and there’s something about the way he says it that sticks.
"Interesting," I murmur, more to myself than him.
The cab fills with quiet after that. Just the hum of tires on pavement and the occasional birdsong drifting through the open windows. The air’s warm and thick and definitely not charged with anything inappropriate or unspoken.
Nope.
Nothing at all.
