Page 108 of The Sweetest Obsession

Wow. I still don’t know what’s going on.

But Grant set this up, didn’t he?

Having Nell stay the night over at his parents’ place... that has to mean he really wants me all to himself.

Alone.

Eep.

I give him a wide-eyed questioning look as we climb back into his truck.

My heart’s stuck in my throat as he starts the engine and glances over with a faint smile.

“Somewhere I want to take you,” he tells me, backing the truck out to the street.

Tentatively, I scoot across the wide front seat and lean against his arm.

Soon, he’s driving one-handed with his other arm wrapped around me, gathering me close against his side, making me feel him in every breath.

I’m certain I could stay like this forever.

I’m not even thinking about where he’s driving us. Not when I’m content to snuggle into his arm and just stay there, breathing him in.

Most girls don’t grow up and actually get the guy who haunted their daydreams.

Especially not after he busts their heart like an ornament and only shows up again so many years later.

Tonight is special.

For once in my life, I feel lucky.

Like the karma wheel might finally be paying me back for all the bad luck.

When Grant pulls the truck to a halt and kills the engine, I open my eyes and lift my head, blinking curiously.

My breath catches the instant I make out the wrought-iron fence, the arched iron gate.

Oh, crud.

Are we really here?

The shapes of headstones leave no doubt, glinting like grey bones in the headlights until he turns them off.

“Grant?”

“Do you know,” he says, his arm still heavy around me, his gaze trained thoughtfully through the windshield, “we’ve never come here together?”

“O-oh. You’re right,” I whisper.

For a breathless second, I stare at the gate, my heart beating slow and heavy before I reach for Grant’s hand and hold it tight.

“Okay,” I breathe. “Let’s go see him together.”

It’s so strange, walking through the tall grass together, breathing in the scent of old flowers left behind on the graves of people who will never get to smell them.

It always hurts, every time I come here—even if I haven’t dropped by in nearly a decade.

The last time I was here, the grave marker was still fresh, and so meaningless when there was nothing buried there.

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