Page 90 of Your Place or Mine

She slid into the chair across from me, folding one leg over the other. The hem of her dress shifted just enough to show smooth skin I had no business looking at.

Focus.

We ordered her wine, my coffee, and the special, and for a while, we just talked.

Not small talk. Real talk.

She asked me what it was like growing up here, and I told her about getting detention for climbing the old water tower with Drew one summer, about sneaking into the bakery after hours when Mrs. Granger forgot to lock the back door, back before June owned it. She listened, really listened, and when she laughed, it wasn’t polite. It was unfiltered and bright andhers.

And I found myself talking more than I usually did. Letting her in. Letting herseeme.

Which was dangerous.

Because she saw too much already.

She always had.

I told myself not to lean in too far. Not to reach for her hand. But I couldn’t stop watching how her mouth curled at the edges when she smiled or paused before answering anything too personal, deciding whether or not to trust me.

She was holding back.

I felt it.

And for once, I didn’t blame her.

Still, I wanted more.

So I asked, “Why Reckless River?”

She stilled for a second.

She held her wine glass halfway to her lips. Her lashes lowered.

And just like that, the air shifted again.

Her voice, when she spoke, was softer. Measured.

“My mom used to talk about towns like this,” she said. “The kind with porches, local diners, and people who nod at you when you pass them on the sidewalk.”

She took a sip. Swallowed. “When she died, everything about the city started to feel too loud. Too fast. Like I couldn’t think without the noise pressing in.”

She looked up at me then, and something cracked in her eyes. Just a little.

Her mom…

“My agent heard whispers about the building being available. Sent me some photos. I don’t know. It felt like a place where I could breathe again. Where maybe I could start over.”

She didn’t blink.

Didn’t soften the words with a smile.

She just let them hang there, open and honest and aching.

And I didn’t say anything for a second.

Because anything I said felt too small for the weight of what she’d just given me.

She wasn’t some city slicker coming to Reckless River to destroy its charm. She was begging it to give her refuge.

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