Page 195 of Banter & Blushes

“Same,” Reid says, still watching the sky like it owes him answers.

We start the hike back down the trail. It’s warmer now. “So,” I say casually, hoping to break the spell without shattering it, “what’s next on the magical vacation agenda?”

Reid nudges me with his shoulder. “Breakfast first. I'm starving.”

“You’re always starving.”

“True. But today I feel like I’ve earned it. We conquered lava. That’s a big deal.”

I laugh. “Lava conquering deserves pancakes at minimum.”

“And maybe—” he says, like he’s only now remembering, “we check out that brochure we grabbed from the hotel lobby?”

I nod. “Yeah. That sounds great.”

He glances over at me, softness flickering in his eyes. “You good with all this?”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “Spontaneity. The resort. The . . . ‘Mr. and Mrs. Bennett’ stuff.”

I pause, then smile. “It’s weird.”

He laughs. “Yeah.”

“But weird doesn’t mean bad,” I add, stealing a sideways glance. “And I’m glad I came.”

He holds my gaze for a second too long, and for the first time, I wonder if he’s about to say something real.

But instead, he just nods. “Me too.”

CHAPTER 6

REID

I’ve seen a lot of sunrises in my life. From behind the windshield of my truck, through the windows of my office, even once from a freezing tent on a weekend hike I regretted instantly. But nothing—and I mean nothing—compared to the way the sun rose this morning.

Not just because of the lava glowing beneath our feet or the ocean stretching out like a mirror.

But because of her.

Briella leaned into me, her head brushing my shoulder, her face lit by gold and pink light. And for one moment, it felt like we were something more. Like the world had stilled just long enough for me to imagine a life I’ve never quite let myself hope for.

But then the light got too bright, and we stood. Kept hiking. Pretended nothing had shifted.

Except everything has, at least for me.

After the hike,we head to Volcano House for breakfast, our shoes dusted in ash and our clothes still warm from the rising sun.

The restaurant sits right on the rim of the crater, floor-to-ceiling windows giving a front-row view of the ocean below. From our table, we can see the soft glow of lava pulsing where it reaches the edge of the ocean, a curl of steam risesinto the air.

Briella presses her hand to the glass. “This doesn’t feel real.”

“It doesn’t look real,” I say, grabbing a plate and following her toward the buffet. “It’s like eating brunch on Mars.”

She laughs, her voice still hushed with wonder. “But, like . . . adeliciousMars.”

The buffet is everything a post-volcano hike deserves—piles of golden pancakes, crispy bacon, omelets made to order, and a tray of freshly sliced pineapple.

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