Page 68 of The Scars We Heal

“Sure.”

I chuckled to myself. “Probably. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were space rock aliens out there on a faraway planet somewhere.”

Her head snapped toward me, an amused smile gracing her lips. “Are you a big Gosling fan?”

Shrugging, I replied, “I dabble.”

“When you’re not out on the road roping cattle and doing cowboy shit, right?”

“Exactly.” I lifted my hands behind my head. “I actually loved The Notebook, thank you very much.”

Her hand flew out to smack me on the arm. “You did not.”

“You don’t believe me?” I gasped in mock offense.

“Would you blame me if I didn’t?”

I let out a breathy huff of a laugh. “Nah. I did watch it, though, believe it or not. Isa made us all watch it for a movie night once. Not gonna lie, I was a little ticked off that she made me turn off the Wrangler’s baseball game, but it wasn’t a bad movie.”

She shot up, clutching her hand to her chest in fake dramatics. “You’d skip family movie night for a baseball game?”

“If it was the Wranglers, you bet. They’ve been my favorite baseball team since I was a kid.”

“Have you ever seen them play in person?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Dang.” She lay back down. “Well, I hope one day you get to see them play.”

“Maybe we’ll have to go to a game together,” I suggested quietly.

I wasn’t sure if she heard me, but in the darkness, she whispered, “Yeah, maybe.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

caitlin

Jake’s bucket list may as well have been a glowing neon sign on my kitchen counter. I’d completed seven of the eleven items, but the remaining ones seemed to jump off the page at me.

Get a tattoo.

Do something reckless.

Make a change in appearance you’ve always wanted.

Say no to something you don’t want to do.

I’d tried not to overthink it too much, but every time I passed by the kitchen, I did. The other items had been fairly easy, especially with Jake encouraging me to complete them, and I had gone through a whole pack of polaroid photos as proof. But something about the last four intimidated me.

Getting a tattoo seemed impulsive, and I had never been impulsive. I wasn’t a reckless person to begin with, and I’d never really been great with change, although I’d been experiencing a lot of it the last few months. Clearly, I was also not good at saying no.

As though he’d somehow read my mind from across the yard, a knock—the distinct one Jake used when he came to my door—broke me out of my thoughts.

“I was just thinking about you,” I greeted him. Instant regret washed over me, but it dissipated when Jake smiled.

“You were?”

I stepped aside so he could enter the house, and he followed me into the kitchen.