Page 251 of Small Town Firsts

EMMY

“Spoilsport,”Gabe jests, grinning.

“That’s me.”

“Are you okay?”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to nod my head yes, to lie and say everything’s okay. But I don’t. Because even in Gabe’s comforting presence, my anger still boils and bubbles like a witch’s cauldron.

“No,” I whisper my confession and, though we’re virtual strangers, he wraps his meaty arms around me and pulls me close.

“Let me take you to lunch.”

“It’s not even lunchtime.”

He glances down at his watch. “Brunch then, Emmy.”

“Brunch is for Sundays.” I don’t know why I’m being so difficult. I guess it’s because I don’t want a pity meal.

“Sweets, brunch is a state of mind. Now, let’s go.”

“Are you sure?”

“A hundred and one.”

“What?”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m one-hundred-and-one percent sure I’d like you to join me for brunch.”

“Smartass.”

“Always.” He smirks. “Let me text Zach really quick.”

“I don’t want to interrupt your plans.”

Gabe heaves out a long-suffering sigh and wraps his arm around my shoulders, guiding me out of the building. I’m probably imagining it, but I swear I can feel the burn of someone’s stare against my back as he leads me out into the sunshine. “You aren’t interrupting. You were invited. Plus, we’re just going to the dining hall.”

“Thanks, Gabe.”

He presses his palm to his cheek and flutters his long lashes. “I know, I know. I’m a great guy.”

As we approach our destination, Gabe drops a bomb on me. “So, you gonna tell me what had you so upset?”

“Do I have to?” I ask, halfway hoping he’ll let me off the hook and halfway hoping he’ll press for more.

“Yes,” is his single word reply.

I turn to look at him, surprised to find his lips pressed into a thin line and his face set in stone. “Um...”

He reaches around me and pushes open the door to the dining hall, letting me enter before him. “It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that something upset you. Bottling things up is a shit way to dealing—trust me. Let it out. You’ll feel better, and maybe... maybe I can help rid you of what ails you.”

I snort out an unintentional laugh. “God, I wish.”

“Uh huh, tell me more.” Someone yells his name, and he reroutes us toward the sound of it. “Hold that thought, sweets.”

He blazes a trail through the cavernous room, me hot on his heels. He stops in front of a table occupied by a handful of people, but he only has eyes for the tall, dark-skinned man seated at the center.

This must be Zach.

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