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“Yeah” is about all I can get out. Lindsey doesn’t force me, and she doesn’t try to push the conversation. That’s one of my favorite things about my sister. She reads me so well.

“You going to be okay?” she asks me.

I nod. “Yeah. I have to talk to him,” I state the obvious.

She stands up and stretches. “I have to get ready for Julian. Go get your man,” she tells me, giving me a big smile. Where I have one dimple, Lindsey has two, and they’re showing themselves now.

I laugh and pull her into a hug. “Thank you, sissy.”

She rubs her hands up and down my back, squeezing me in. “I love you, big brother. You got this. And for what it’s worth, I like him for you.” She giggles, pulling away.

I smile at her. “Love you. Thank you.” I walk her to the front door of the shop and tell her to have a good time tonight on her date. Then I take a deep breath.

It’s time.

I need to go talk to Dare.

My conversation with Lindsey barreling through my head over and over, I pace around the shop for several minutes, trying to figure out what I want to say and how I want to approach Dare. I run various scenarios through my head, speaking some of them out loud and then talking to myself again when they don’t sound right to me. I finally decide that whatever happens at this point is up to him. That’s an uncomfortable thought to me, because I’m afraid that it could be something I don’t want to hear. But I have to do it anyway.

My sister helped me to see that I can only lay it out there and let him figure out what he wants to do. We have to talk if I want the relationship to grow.

As ready as I can possibly be, I lock up the shop, hop in my car, and start on my way to the Archers’ house, my stomach in knots. I remember all those years I spent riding this road daily, first on my bicycle and then when I got my license the fall before Nate died. The bile rises in my throat as I get closer.

I pull into the driveway next to Dare’s car and kill the engine so I’m not tempted to back out and leave again. The anxiety is strong, though, and I feel like I’m starting to head into a tailspin.

I take a few deep breaths and talk myself into going to the door. Even though I practiced the conversation that I want to have with him several times, it all disappears when I get to the front door. I stop on the welcome mat, wiping my palms on my jeans, and then I clench and unclench my hands into fists a few times.

You can do this. You like him. Make it happen.

I reach up and knock on the front door three times in rapid succession. Beads of sweat are gathering at the base of my neck. No one answers the door, so I knock another three times, a little more forcefully. After what feels like an hour (but is probably only a minute or so), I hear footsteps inside the house and see a silhouette of someone in the window. I shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans and lift my shoulders to my ears, nervous energy buzzing through my body.

The door opens, and I’m dumbfounded by what I see standing in front of me.

Are those . . . Is that . . .

I try to hide my smile as my eyes roam up and down Dare’s body, taking in his fuzzy onesie pajamas. The feet have paws, and there’s a stuffed wolf head as a hood—ears and all. I try not to laugh, but he also looks so incredibly adorable that I can’t help myself from grinning.

I quickly sober up, however, when he drops his hand from the doorknob and looks at me with his piercing green eyes. They cloud over when he makes direct eye contact with me, and he swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down.

“Lev,” he whispers.

“Hey,” I say. I can barely force the word out of my throat.

“Hey yourself,” Dare whispers.

“I, um—”

“Do you want to—”

We chuckle at the fact that we both started talking at the same time, and I realize he’s as nervous as I am. Without another word, Dare steps to the side and gestures, inviting me into the house.

I take a deep breath and force myself to walk inside. I am met with a smell that knocks my breath out of my lungs. It’s extremely familiar and immediately reminds me of Nate and all the time we used to spend together in this house. The scent is a little different than it was when we were kids, but it’s familiar enough that it evokes a string of memories, most of them good. I close my eyes for a second and take it all in as Dare closes the door behind us.

He doesn’t pause to give me any time to settle, however, and instead, he moves around me and starts toward the kitchen.

“Look, Dare—”I start, at the same time that he also says, “What are you—”

Neither of us laugh this time.