Page 98 of Falling for Keeps

And he wonders why I never took us seriously.

Demi rolls her eyes. “Moving on.”

“Yes. I’m really into your sister, but we’ve only been texting. I don’t know her well yet. I was hoping things would work out with someone else, but she’s into a different someone else, so that failed.”

I have a hard time feeling guilty when he was literally also talking to two people at the same time. It’s the definition of dating: going on dates with people until one sticks.

We just didn’t work out. Again.

“Don’t string her along, Seth,” Demi says. She’s small and feisty, and I would never go against her. Seth evidently feels the same way.

“You have my word. Sheesh, Demi. What’s with the interrogation?”

“I’m an older sister. It’s literally my job to make sure my boss isn’t taking advantage.”

“That’s a weird sentence,” I say, then take another sip of my cider.

“Can we promise no more secrets, at least?” Demi asks, looking at Seth. Her words drive straight into my chest, though. She doesn’t know about Carson, but she knows something’s up.

When her gaze slides to me, I know I was included in that broad request.

“Secrets never lead anywhere good,” she continues. “They fester and make the bearer feel worse over time. It’s so much healthier to rely on other people.”

I can’t look at her. If I do, my entire week-long relationship with Carson might come spilling out, and that’s not going to happen in front of Seth. “Let’s finish planning Witches’ Night Out so we can go home.”

“Agreed.” Demi takes a big bite of her sandwich. “I, for one, think we should make it a dance party with karaoke this year.”

“Me and karaoke don’t mix.” I hide my face by taking another drink from my mug.

Demi shoots me a look. “Oh, I think you and karaoke are more of a good luck charm.”

I’m driving home after our early dinner—late lunch?—meeting. Everything feels squared away, and I’m only six percent more into Carson today than I was yesterday. That rate of growth is slow enough not to be too concerning.

We won’t discuss the percentage of time I thought about him while shelving books and prepping book club questions for tomorrow night.

I can no longer claim that the last time I put myself out there for a guy was a total disaster, because I put my heart on the line for Carson and it ended in one of the best kisses of my life. So what if he needs more time to decide he can trust me? I can’t judge his choices when I’m not a parent. I know what I think I would do if I was in his shoes, but who knows what the stress and pressure of the situation would drive me to do?

My phone rings, pausing my music to show Carson’s name. I hit the button to accept it in my car. “Hi,” I say.

He’s breathless, like he’s been running. “Do you have Penny?”

My blood runs cold. “No. I’m driving home from work.”

“Do you think it’s possible she found a way into your house?”

It’s Monday. We had talked about making cookies today, but moved it because she’d be with a friend. “I thought she was supposed to go to the straw maze after school?”

“She was, but now she’s missing. Katie called me because she can’t find Penny anywhere. Pen’s phone isn’t even ringing. It’s saying the phone is no longer in service. Statistically, missing children are often found at or near their home or familiar places. So before I panic, I wanted to check your house.”

“You can go check it. I’m down the road, but you can get in with the spare.” I tell him where to find the key hidden beneath one of my ceramic planters, then hang up so he can focus on the task. My heart rate jumped when he explained the situation and hasn’t decreased since. She’s a smart kid, very observant, and hopefully just lost in the corn maze.

I pull into my house and find my front door wide open. Carson steps outside with a terrified look on his face. He closes the door, and I race to meet up with him. “She’s not here?”

“Nope. I need to drive to the maze. It’s the most logical place, but I had to check.”

“I’ll come with you.”

He doesn’t argue. I lock my car with the key fob as we cross the street and slide into his Lexus. As soon as Carson pulls onto the road, he reaches for my hand, our fingers threading together. I’d like to tell him it will all be okay, but empty platitudes never make anyone feel better.