Page 14 of Every Heartbeat After

The road races from the darkness into the path of my headlights, only to be eaten up by my tires a moment later. “Nowhere in particular.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not really, no.” I scratch the scruff forming along my jaw. I keep a shadow, but this is more midnight than five-o’clock. “How’d things go today with Gary?”

“Really good. It’s been so great getting to know him. And everyone else.” She takes another sip of the milkshake, and it hits the bottom of the cup. I glance over and she meets my gaze with one of embarrassment. “Oops. I think I finished your shake.”

I pluck the empty cup from her hand and deposit it in the holder. “Somehow I’ll forgive you.”

She fans a hand over her heart. “Oh thank God. I wouldn’t be able to face you again if you didn’t.”

“Afraid of conflict?” I ask, but really I’m thinking,Will we see each other again?

“Afraid of being labeled an ice cream bandit.”

I chuckle at that, and it unravels some of the knot tying my throat. “You’re definitely an ice cream bandit. Who likes vanilla, no less. What does that say about you?”

She straightens in her seat. I feel more than see her gaze when it settles on me. “That I’m wonderful and versatile. Or so I’ve been told.”

I shake my head, and she giggles, the same trill that’s been replaying in my thoughts all day. I suck on my teeth, recentering my focus. “You never said what your favorite was.”

“Mint chocolate chip. You?”

“Pecan praline. What does that say about me?”

“That you’re into nuts,” she deadpans.

I make a U-turn on the empty highway, aiming back toward Loveless. “Bad news for you, huh?”

She snaps her fingers. “The good ones are always gay.”

This woman is going to be the death of me. I steer the conversation back to safer ground, the opposite of the direction I’m used to going. “Tell me more about your time with Gary. I know he was really excited for you to come out here.”

She’s silent for so long that I’m beginning to wonder if she’s going to answer. I remember the haze in her eyes when I first pulled up alongside her, and nerves pinch my stomach. Clearly something upset her, and I’m suddenly worried I’ve dredged it all up again.

“It was really wonderful.” Her voice is soft as wild heather. Faraway. I find myself shifting closer to the center console, closer to her, in order to hear better. “I needed this, you know. To get away. Be with family.”

Her mouth warms the word so much it melts on her tongue. It softens something in me, where I’ve remained solid as stone for years. “Does your family not live close?”

She shakes her head. I can hear the swish of her hair on her shoulders. “They’re all gone.”

All of them?I want to ask. But that would make me the biggest asshole on the planet, when the topic is clearly painful. Instead I reach for her knee without thinking and give it a squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

She braces her elbow on the center console and balances her chin in her palm. She’s so close I can feel her breath on my neck when she peers up at me. “Do you go home often?”

I shake my head, trying with everything I’ve got to ignore the heat building beneath my skin. “Practically never.”

“Do you not get time off with the sheriff’s department?”

“I haven’t taken a vacation in years.” It’s a nonanswer, but I’m hoping she takes it.

The lights of Loveless grow brighter. We pass the road that leads to my house. I consider turning. Offering her a drink. But then I remember my pathetic bachelor setup and think better of it.

I want to be good enough for her, I realize. For anyone, just this once.

“Really? I go on a trip every May. There’s this resort, the Carmen, about an hour over the Florida state line. I’ve been going since I was a little girl.” Her smile is sad, her voice somber. “Always in the first two weeks, before a lot of the schools up north let out but after the water is warm enough to swim.” She lifts off her chin, and for a moment I think she’s going to move away. I’m already grieving the loss when she reaches for my hair and runs a hand through it. “It’s your hair that smells so good, isn’t it?”

A half smile is all I can manage, because my every thought, every nerve is focused on her hand in my hair. On wondering how it’d feel for her to tighten her fist and pull.

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