Page 52 of Courage, Dear Heart

“You’re driving a hard bargain. But I can’t close the store for that many days.”

“You’d be closed on Sunday and the fourth anyway, right? If we leave on Friday after work, then you’d need someone to take care of Saturday and Monday. And on the way back, if we leave after breakfast, we’d be back here Wednesday lunchtime. It’s a three-and-a-half-hour drive from here to Stony Creek.” I wait, silently willing her to agree. I want to get her away from the city, from this place that holds too much meaning and sadness. I want to see what she’s like far away from here. I want to know the before Jillian, the real person who’s not weighted with grief and work obligations.

She holds the mug to her chest like a shield. “I don’t know, Elliott.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that kind of . . .” The word trails and the silence that follows is heavy.

I don’t want to pressure her, but if I don’t push a little, she’ll never let me in past this point. “Hey, I know we barely know each other, and you have a lot to think on, but I can promise you that there’re no strings attached. You’d get your own room to share with Jamie. You won’t regret it. And you know Jamie will love it. You can talk to my grandma if it would make you feel safer.”

Jillian’s gaze is intense as if she’s looking for the catch in my invitation. I grab my now lukewarm tea and take a sip.

“Okay, I promise to think about it. If I can get someoneto take over the store for those days I need to be away, we’ll come.”

“Great! I hope you can work it out.” I keep my tone casual, though there’s a thrill rising in my chest. I lean back, watching her, that smile still lingering on her lips, softer than before.

Her gaze searches my face. “Me too.”

It’s getting late. Reluctantly, I set my mug down and stand up. “I should get going.” Leaving is the last thing I want to do.

Her expression flickers with something—disappointment maybe?—and I feel a tug in my chest, my own hesitance echoing back in the way she watches me as if she doesn’t want me to go either.

She walks me down the stairs, the sound of her steps and mine like a song of goodbye. The air between us shifts, charged with something we’ve both been skirting around for weeks now. I stand in the threshold and turn to face her, my hand resting on the open doorframe, lingering longer than necessary. She looks up, those blue eyes soft, expectant, and my pulse spikes, everything in me wanting to close the distance between us.

“Thank you for inviting me.” My voice is low. “If I don’t go now, I’m going to kiss you. And it won’t be a polite peck on the cheek.” I’m unable to hide the tension in my voice.

Her eyes widen, a slight hitch in her breath as her gaze dips to my mouth, then back up. She doesn’t say anything, but there’s a look in her eyes—a dazed, wanting look—that makes my resolve falter.

I shake my head, clenching my jaw as I take a step back. “Now I really have to go.”

I step outside, but before I can let the door close, I pause, turning back. She’s still standing there, watching me, her fingers lightly touching the door as if she, too, can’t quite bring herself to let me leave. I feel a surge of something raw, something I can barely keep in check.

“Lock the door tight,” I say softly, holding her gaze. “I’ll wait on the other side to hear the click before I walk away.”

She nods, and I wait. “And, Jillian . . .” I lean in, my voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to just kiss you and have it not mean something. I don’t want to be the one to take that first kiss. I want you to give it to me. When you’re ready.” I pause, letting that sink in, watching the way her lips part, her cheeks turning that soft shade of pink that nearly undoes me. “Until then, I’m making us both wait.”

Her breath catches, her gaze holding mine, and it takes everything in me not to claw at her door when she closes it with the click of a lock.

Between the Lines

Elliott: Dream vacation destination?

Jillian: Japan. I’d love to see the cherry blossoms. You?

Elliott: Greece. Just imagine thousands of years of architectural achievement.

TWENTY-SIX

Jillian

Walking into the coffee shop,the smell of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the scent of pastries and baked goods wafting through the air greets me. Hmm, cinnamon rolls, chocolate, sugar cookies compete for my attention. I scan the crowded room, my gaze darting from table to table. Sheila waves at me from the back corner. I make my way over and slide into the seat across from her, a smile already spreading on my face.

“So spill it!” Sheila says, pushing a cup of coffee in front of me. “How was your home-cooked dinner date with Elliott?”

I laugh. “Hello to you too. I’m fine, thanks for asking. What about you?”

She threatens to stab me with a plastic fork, which makes me laugh more. Sheila has never been patient. “Girl, I swear . . .”

I put my hands up. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you. It was really nice.”

Sheila wrinkles her nose. “Really nice? My coffee is really nice. The weather is really nice. You can do better than that.”

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