Page 52 of The Overdue Kiss

“I’m not going to kiss you,” I say.

Her throaty response nearly changes my mind. I can’t tell if it’s disappointment or confusion.

“I’m not,” I repeat, reminding myself more than her when I catch myself easing forward an inch so that our noses touch. “I want you to be sure first. Of me. Of us. No New Year’s resolutions between us and no regrets.”

She lets out a little sigh, which sends a warm rush of air across my lips. I nearly cave at the tingling sensation, and I hover on the brink of devouring her mouth until all her fear and worry disintegrates in the heat of our embrace.

But I don’t. Instead, I press a soft kiss on her nose in a promise.

“I will wait for you,” I say before pulling back.

Her eyes sparkle as she scans my face.

“How do you always know what to say?”

“I’m just honest.” And because I’m weak, I touch her cheek one more time, savoring the warmth of her tan skin under mine. “Maya, I’d wait forever for you.”

I hadn’t planned on saying that last part and for good reason. Her eyes fly wide, and she stumbles back, ducking away from my intensity. I’m moving too fast.

Clearing my throat, I tuck my hands in my pockets and give her some space.

“Let’s head back in and say goodbye,” I suggest. “And I might see if I can take some tamales home with me.”

Maya laughs, her nerves settling as we head back inside. “She’ll pack you a whole meal if you let her.”

Her vanilla scent drifts up from my clothes as I follow her, my shirt and skin covered in her perfume. Smiling, I hope there’s never a day when I don’t smell of perfection.

Isit on Holt’s unofficial pew at church beside Aunt Birdie and glance at the empty spot on my other side. Years ago, this whole row used to be completely full with my family and hers, but today, it’s only the two of us. I specifically sent a text to Reese this morning, reminding her what time church started. But I give up hope when we stand and the organ starts to play the first hymn of the service.

Aunt Birdie loops her arm through mine, singing a beautiful soprano that pours from her heart. My bass joins her, but I know it’s quiet and full of worry as my thoughts circle around my sister.

When we sit, she leans in to whisper, “She’ll come back. Don’t you worry. God’s not done with her yet.” She’s right, as she always is, and I say another prayer for my sister in hopes of the lost sheep eventually finding its way back home.

The service ends at noon, and I practically race toward the chapel doors. Small talk and sometimes even just the thought of it makes my anxiety spike. Most of the members know, giving me a friendly wave as I bolt out the doors into the fresh Colorado air. Main Street stretches before me, a long, straight street busy with customers and tourists. At the end of the road is Storybook Inn, the vibrant red exterior visible even this far away.

A motorcycle’s acceleration catches me off guard, and a familiar bike turns onto the street in my direction. Chris approaches at a leisurely pace, appearing to record some content, as his crazy antenna camera is attached to his helmet. He throws up a hand when he notices me and parks in front of the church’s curb.

“Hey, man. What brings you to the mountains?” I hold out a fist, and he bumps it with his gloved hand.

Chris lifts up his visor, squinting in the sun. “I’m stopping by to see my mom, but I wanted to drop off this special delivery.”

“For Holt? He’s not?—‍”

“For you. Chantelle told me to guard this with my life. Something for Reese I guess, and book related based on the weight.” He groans as he grabs the handles of a paper bag. “It’s like carrying a ton of bricks in my backpack.”

Oooh. Books.The ones I asked for Maya.

I take it from him and try to peek inside, but it’s full of pink tissue paper. I’ll just have to hope it’s the right thing and she likes it.

“You’ve been quiet lately... more than your usual quiet. Everything good with you?”

Déjà vu hits me, reminding me of when Chris bumped into me on this same street three and a half years ago. Back then, I was lost in grief after burying one of the most important people in my life. Then Reese left me, desperate to heal her wounds in her drink. Meanwhile, I drove around on my dirt bike, annoying my neighbors to no end, searching for a place to belong.

Thank God Chris talked to me that day and helped me realign my internal compass. And I’m still thankful for Chris today, for taking time to check on me when he’s always so busy.

“The usual first week of school drama, but otherwise I’m good.” My thoughts turn to Maya, and my voice softens. “It’s really good.”

With a grin, he pats my shoulder. “That’s great, Des. You had me worried when you split from our ride. You know we joke around because we care, but you say the word, and I’ll make sure they ease up on you if you need it. I don’t want you to disappear on us one day. My sister already did that, and I don’t want to lose a good friend too.”

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