Page 107 of Your Place or Mine

The granite was weathered now, and the edges were soft with time. The wildflowers I’d left last week had browned in the sun.

I crouched beside her, brushing a leaf off the corner of the stone, then sat back on my heels.

“Hey, Luc.”

My voice cracked. It always did here.

I let the silence sit for a minute. Let the wind shift and the ache rise until it filled my chest and pushed against my ribs like it always did when I saw her name.

“I, uh… I messed up again,” I said, eyes locked on the carved letters. “Big surprise, right?”

The sky overhead was blue, cloudless. Unfair, how beautiful it was.

“I kissed someone.”

The words burned on the way out.

“I kissed someone, and it wasn’t just a mistake in the moment. It wasn’t one of those impulse things that happened, and you hate yourself afterward.”

I looked down, jaw clenched tight.

“She kissed me back.”

It was really stupid how my chest tightened just saying it aloud, like it made it real.

“She’s… new in town,” I added, because I didn’t want Lucy thinking I was out here being reckless with strangers. “She’s the new owner of the building. The landlord. And she’s the most stubborn, infuriating, opinionated woman I’ve ever met.”

I huffed a breath and shook my head. “And she’s not even sorry about it.”

The breeze shifted, brushing the back of my neck as if she were listening.

“I thought I hated her,” I said quietly. “Thought she was everything wrong with the world. City girl. Fancy degree. Big ideas. The kind of woman who’d gut this place and replace it with sterile concrete and exposed bulbs. You’d have hated it, Lucy. You’d haveraged.”

I tried to smile.

Didn’t work.

“But she didn’t do that,” I admitted. “She came in with plans, sure, but they weren’t what I thought. She’s fixing things. The ceiling tiles. The hallway lights. She’s even painting the damn laundromat, and somehow, I want to thank her for it.”

I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees.

“She’s not ruining the bar. She’s leaving it alone. And still, I fought her. Still, I tried to convince myself she was the enemy.”

The wind rustled again.

“Because if she’s not…” I swallowed hard. “Then what the hell am I supposed to do?”

My throat went tight, my heart slamming hard against my ribs.

“She’s funny. And sharp. And she looks at me like I’m not broken. Like she sees somethinggood, and I don’t know how to handle that.”

I rubbed a hand down my face, my fingers trembling.

“She asked me why I thought she was dangerous,” I murmured. “I told her it’s because she’stempting.”

My voice cracked again.

“And God, Lucy… sheis.”

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