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“I do.”
He nods slightly.
“That’s good.”
I lean forward on the table.
“You belong here.”
“I guess.”
“You’re comfortable here.”
“I grew up coming here all the time.”
I glance around the diner again.
The wooden floors.
The soft buzz of conversation.
Mary laughing at something behind the counter.
“It feels homey,” I say quietly.
Boone studies me carefully.
“I’m glad you’re staying. You are staying right?”
“Yes.”
His expression shifts slightly.
Hope.
Careful but real.
“Are you sure?”
“I think I am.”
Before he can respond—
The bell over the diner door rings again.
A man in a sheriff’s uniform walks in.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Weathered face.
He spots Boone immediately.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
Boone sighs.