The moment was broken, and maybe that was for the best. But that kiss didn’t come out of nowhere. It’d been hovering there between us for days, just waiting on one of us to be dumb enough to cross that line. And today, I guess that was me.
By the time I got Dolly under control and turned around, Andi was on her feet, brushing off her jeans, and my old hat sitting crooked on her head. She looked like someone who’d just been caught doing something she shouldn’t, and I imagined I didn’t look much different.
There was something new in her expression, though—lighter, maybe—despite the way her eyes still glistened from everything we’d just shared.
I cleared my throat. “We should probably head back,” I said, the tone of my voice rougher than I meant. “I, uh, promised Luke I’d help him with some stuff.” I led both horses over and held Dolly’s reins out to her. “He’s probably waiting on me.”
She accepted them with a quiet, unreadable look.
I swung up into the saddle, biting back a sigh that had nothing to do with what happened under that oak tree and everything to do with the fact that I’d just crossed a line I wasn’tsure I had any right to cross. Andi mounted up beside me, and we rode side by side across the sun-drenched field in silence. When we reached the fence line near the barn, I finally turned toward her, just as she glanced my way.
“Hey, Zane,” she murmured.
I looked at her, unsure of what she was about to say but almost positive it would sound a lot like that kiss should’ve never happened.
“When I go,” she continued, voice steady but gentle, “I won’t leave a note.”
My breath caught.
She looked up at me through her lashes, soft and fierce all at once. “I’ll say goodbye. You deserve that.”
My chest ached with something sharp and warm and way too hopeful. Less than a week ago, I wanted her gone. Thought of everything I could to make sure she wouldn’t stay longer than she had to. She was chaos wrapped in pretty packaging, and I’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.
But now?
Now I was thinking of every excuse in the world to keep her here.
All my old rules—the ones I made to protect myself—were starting to slip. And if I wasn’t careful, I was going to break every damn one of them.
Chapter Twenty-One
Andi
Dear Diary,
He kissed me. God help me…Zane McKade kissed me and—damn it—that single simple kiss might’ve been more dangerous than any grand romantic gesture.
Because right before it happened, I reminded him (and reminded myself, too) that I’m not staying. That this is temporary. I’ve been working so hard to choose me and to stop making decisions based on what other people want. But that kiss? It made me question everything. It made me wonder if I even know what I want anymore. Or worse, if I’ve already found it and I’m still planning to walk away.
There’s something cruel about the timing of all of this—about meeting someone like Zane just when I’ve decided to put myself first. Because falling for him feels inevitable, and letting him go might just be the cost of keeping the promises I made to myself.
I don’t know what happens next. I just know that saying goodbye to him—to all of them—is going to hurt like hell. Maybe more than I’m ready for.
But for now? I think I just want to feel what it’s like to be truly wanted. Even if it can’t last.
“Mmm, what smells so good?” I’d barely made it two steps into Lindy McKade’s kitchen before the smell hit me—warm, buttery, and sweet. Like a slice of comfort wrapped in cinnamon and sugar.
Lindy turned from the oven with a hot pie in her oven-mitt-covered hand—face flushed from the heat. “Just testing out a few new pie recipes for the fair. I’m torn between my famousSweet Heat Pecan Pie,” she said, gesturing with it before placing it carefully on a cooling rack. “Or the peach bourbon one I’m about to make. Either way, I think I’ll win this year.”
Norah scoffed behind me, making a beeline for the fridge and pouring herself a glass of sweet tea. “You win every year.”
“Noteveryyear,” Lindy said with a grin that held a hint of mischief behind it. “Ruthie Simmons managed to snag a win from me one year with an over-hyped blackberry pie that tasted like she’d scooped it out of a jar. The victory didn’t last long, though.” Her grin turned pure devious.
“What happened?” I asked, taking a seat in one of the barstools across the island from her.
She lifted her heel, catching the oven door and closing it shut before bracing both hands on the counter and leaning in like she was about to share a secret. “She got caught on her knees behind the quilts with one of the judges. Can you imagine? All that for a damn ribbon and a twenty-five-dollar gift card to the Feed & Seed.”
I bit back a shocked laugh as Norah choked on her tea. “Mother!”
