I laugh. “Oh okay.Phew!My family wouldn’t let you in the house,” I joke.
“They learn how little I know about football and they won’t want me in the house anyway.” She shrugs and I laugh harder.
A female voice calls out from the house. “Hi. Mason, is it?”
I duck my head down and see a women making her way down the steps, ashy-blonde hair, midfifties. She’s wearing light-wash jeans, and a pink shirt.
“Yes, ma’am.” I step inward as she reaches the bottom of the steps. Megan steps to the side to let me shake her mom’s hand, she introduces herself and I notice her mood shift immediately.
“So, grocery shopping. Is that still the plan?”
“Yeah, nothing crazy.” I nod and gesture to Megan. “As long as you’re still fine with it.”
“Yup, I’m here for it.” She smiles.
“Alright, well, have fun. Dad will be asleep when you get home, so just be quiet,” her mom says. I don’t recall if I know what her dad does, but the way she slowly inches toward my truck tells me now’s not the time to ask.
“Course. Not a problem.”
I open my door for her and wait until she’s settled to close it. I say a silent prayer as I round my side and hop up into the driver’s seat.
And just like that, life doesn’t feel real. She’s here, in my truck, and I’m taking her somewhere? This is crazy. I suddenly don’t know what I’m doing.
* * *
It’s quiet out here. Just the pond, the occasional breeze through the trees, and Megan behind me on the blanket, slowly working her way through a bag of pretzels. She isn’t fishing—she’d made that clear when she got here this afternoon—but she was here, and that counted for something.
I cast the line again, then set the pole down and wander back to her. She’s stretched out on the blanket, leaning back on her arms, flip-flops kicked off, tank top straps slipped low, shorts tugged higher on her thighs to avoid tan lines.
My gaze lingers too long, and she catches me. “What?” she asks, squinting at me with a little grin.
“Nothing.” I shrug, smirking. “You just look good like that.”
Her smile softens, and she glances down at herself, tugging her shirt up a little, like she suddenly feels exposed.
“Mm-hmm,” she hums, teasing, not quite hiding her smile.
I lean closer, pressing my lips to hers. She meets me halfway, her hand sliding up to cup my cheek, gentle but certain. The kiss starts soft, easy, but the second her fingers curl into my hair, Ideepen it. Our mouths move in sync, slow but hungry, and when her lips part, I take the chance to taste her, pulling her closer.
She exhales against me, a tiny sound that makes my chest tighten, and I shift until we’re lying down on the blanket, my weight braced carefully above her. Her free hand fidgets at the hem of my shirt, not pushing the moment further, just clinging like she needs me closer.
I pull back just enough to see her face, lips still parted, cheeks flushed. “See?” I murmur, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “You needed this, didn’t you?”
Her eyes flutter open, meeting mine. “Maybe I did.”
“You’ve been wound so tight lately,” I whisper. “End of the school year, wedding plans…it’s a lot.”
“It is,” she admits, voice soft. “Feels like my brain never shuts off.”
“Then let me help you,” I say, kissing her once more, lingering. “Let me be the break you need.”
Her hand slides up my neck, fingers curling into my hair. “You already are,” she whispers, and for a second, the world feels completely still.
And then, out of the corner of my eye, I see the bobber go. I jump up and grab it, quickly reeling it in.
“Well, I see how it is.” She laughs, teasing.
I pull too fast. The snap is sharp, the rod jerking back, and before I can react, a flash of metal bites straight into the back of my hand.
