Page 36 of From Air

What am I supposed to say when I see him again?

After my shower, I slip into my sweatpants and hoodie and wrap a towel around my head. I’ve never hurried from the bathroom to my shed as fast as I do tonight. Desperate, I start to text Melissa, but it’s late in Florida. And what would I say anyway? How do I explain something I don’t understand myself?

My heart races, chasing feelings that are sprinting out of control. I lock my shed door and remove the towel from my head. When I reach for my brush, there’s a note tucked beneath it on the dresser. It’s an envelope ripped in half—junk mail.

It’s just a kiss. X

“Just a kiss,” I whisper, tracing the letters with my finger.

Just a kiss at Gary’s party.

Just a kiss in the kitchen.

Will there be more? I hope so. An unavoidable grin steals across my lips.

You’re generous. Distractingly mesmerizing. Quirky in a brilliant way. And ineffably beautiful.

I’m in trouble.

Chapter Twelve

It’s a busy morning in the kitchen as Maren makes an omelet and Will grabs a glass of water and a handful of vitamins after getting home from his shift. Then there’s Fitz, filling a reusable mug with coffee.

As for me ... well, I’m trying to keep from shitting my pants, vomiting, or making eye contact with Fitz.

Just a kiss.Pfft.It was just a kiss at Gary’s—a singular kiss after a misunderstanding. Last night wasthe kiss. And there was no misunderstanding. Sokissis nowkisses. Plural.

“Later,” Will mumbles, heading up the stairs.

“Later,” Maren echoes while scuffing her teddy bear slippers to the table.

I shove my lunch in a canvas bag, sling it and my purse over my shoulder, and bolt out the door with a quick mumbled “Bye.” The lazy sun finds my face as I reach the end of the drive, giving me hope for spring. When I climb inside my Jeep, I take my first real breath of the morning.

However, that breath dies when my Jeep won’t start. Not a sound.

“Shit.” I grip the steering wheel and close my eyes. After a few deep breaths, I slide out, deflating a little more with every step back to the house.

Maren glances up from her plate as I shut the door behind me.

“My Jeep won’t start.” My nose wrinkles.

“That sucks. Fitz?” I cringe when she yells his name.

He jogs down the stairs and grabs his jacket. “Yes?” Pulling up the zipper, he glances at Maren and then at me.

“Jamie’s Jeep won’t start. Can you jump her?”

Jesus . . .

He tips his chin to focus on his gloves. “Yeah, I can jump her,” he says with a grin that Maren can’t see. Thank god.

I’ve got nothing. I’m too busy ping-ponging my gaze between the two of them. Does Maren suspect something?

“Let’s go, Jaymes,” Fitz says, opening the door.

I scurry after him. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it. It started just fine yesterday. And I didn’t leave on any lights.”

And you kissed me last night!

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