Outside, the night air hits my skin cool and sharp, trying to wake me up. The moon hangs low over the valley, everything silvered and quiet, Colter Creek pretending it doesn’t know exactly where I’m going.
I tug my boots on at the edge of the porch, laces loose, movements rushed and graceless. I almost trip on the last step and grab the railing, heart pounding as if I’ve just committed a felony instead of… whatever this is.
What is this?
A very bad decision.
A very good decision.
A decision made by a woman who kissed her stoic cowboy neighbor in an alley and then thought,Yes. More of that. Immediately.
The walk next door feels longer than it ever has. Every shadow looks accusatory. Every night sound feels louder than necessary. I half-expect Maeve Dunmoore to pop out of a bush with a clipboard and a knowing look.
Abilene Kentwood, caught sneaking to a group rendezvous at 11:47 p.m. Rate of gossip spread: catastrophic.
I reach the porch and hesitate.
The house is dark except for one soft light glowing from inside. Like they left it on for me.
Of course they did.
My stomach flips.
I lift my hand to knock and don’t even get the chance. The door opens.
Jesse grins at me like he’s been waiting with his ear pressed to the wood. “You made it.”
“I…” I glance over my shoulder reflexively. “My aunt is asleep. If she wakes up and notices I’m gone, I’m blaming raccoons.”
He laughs, low and warm, and steps aside. “We’ll swear we saw one. Big one. Very persuasive. We’re just lucky the twins are fast asleep and missed it.”
Inside feels different. Charged. The room itself knows what’s about to happen and is holding its breath with me.
Marshall is leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching me with that intense gaze that makes my knees feel slightly unreliable.
Wyatt is perched on the edge of the couch, glasses off, hair rumpled, looking up at me like I’m precious and he doesn’t want to startle me.
They’re all… very awake.
Very aware.
Very focused on me.
“I feel like I should say something cool,” I blurt. “Like, casual. Very chill. Neighborly.”
Jesse snorts.
Wyatt smiles. “You can just be you.”
Marshall pushes off the counter and steps closer, stopping just far enough away that I still have space. Still have a choice.
That breaks the last of my nerves.
I step inside. The door closes behind me with a soft, definitive click, and my heart settles into place like it’s been waiting for that sound.
I want them so much I could scream. Instead, a ferocious kind of bravery takes root in my chest, pushing away every last scrap of guilt and shame and good girl modesty my house tried to use as armor against myself.
I grip hold of Marshall’s shirt and tug him toward me. His mouth crashes into mine. Hot, wet, urgent, and the taste of whiskey fills my mouth.
