by Lili Valente
“Small town in coastal Maine,” I murmur. “Weird name. You might have heard of it.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” she whispers. “I just feel like…”
I take her hand and step closer, holding her gaze. “You feel like?”
“Like I…” She trails off, swallowing hard. A beat later, she shakes her head, her breath rushing through her parted lips. “I don’t know. Ignore me. I’m sleep deprived.”
“No, tell me,” I insist. “I want to know what you’re feeling.”
“I honestly can’t remember what I was going to say,” she says with a laugh. She steps back, sliding her hand from mine. She props her fists on her hips and turns her back to me, gazing through the trees. “I bet it’s gorgeous here in the fall, too. And the winter. I bet this path has a great view when the leaves are off the trees.”
“We should come back around the holidays,” I say, watching her profile. “Spend a couple of days playing in the snow. Think you might be up for it?”
“Of course. Sounds like fun,” she says.
But she’s lying, and she’s not very good at it. Her lips are saying what I want to hear, but I can tell, as things stand now, there’s no chance she’s coming back here with me. Something stands in the way of the feelings she has for me, something that blocks her from letting them out into the open.
But at least I know I’m not alone.
She doesn’t have to say it out loud. When she asked where I’d come from, I knew what that look in her eyes meant. She feels it too, this pull, this sense that she’s found what she’s been looking for.
Or, in my case, what I was too stupid to be looking for.
But I’m not too stupid now, and I’m not giving up until I clear every obstacle between her heart and mine.
Chapter Nineteen
Colette
We continue past the turnoff into town and up a mountain trail so steep it makes conversation almost impossible.
Thank God.
The harder it is to breathe, the less likely I’ll say something I’ll regret.
It would be stupid to tell Zack that I’m falling for him, that he’s the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met, that all I want to do is whisk him back to Hidden Kill Bay and play house with him for the next forty or fifty years. Sixty if we’re lucky.
Stupid and selfish.
Zack and I aren’t the same kind of dreamer. If we were, he wouldn’t have left the band to strike out on his own.
People like me find communities, groups, friend pods where we fit, and we do everything in our power to hold onto them, even when things get tough. I still have friends I’ve known since elementary school, and I would have stayed in a job that only partially fulfilled me for the rest of my life if I hadn’t been fired. I was loyal to Theresa, my amazing boss. That loyalty and our connection to each other and her business were more important to me than finding a way to make interior design a viable career path.
Meanwhile, Zack is on a quest to be the most authentic artist he can be and is willing to make the friendship and safety and comfort sacrifices to make it happen. Making music he believes in is his top priority, and I’m sure it always will be.
The world needs people like him, driven to make and share their art. Just as it needs people like me, who put connection and strong emotional ties first.
It takes all kinds to make the world go round, but Zack and I together would be like a fish falling for a duck. They might love each other passionately, but where are they going to live?
Speaking of living…
“Dying,” I pant, collapsing onto the bench at the end of the trail and sucking oxygen into my burning lungs. “I’m dying.”
Zack laughs as he settles next to me. “Well, at least take in the view before you kick the bucket. It’s nice.”
He doesn’t sound nearly as breathless as I am. I tilt my head his way but keep my elbows braced on my knees. “Why aren’t you dying?”
He grins. “I run almost every morning. Eight or nine miles. Sometimes more if I have time.”
My eyes bulge. “A day? Every day?”
He shrugs. “Once you get used to it, it’s not that hard.”
“Lies. All lies,” I gasp, trying to work up enough saliva to swallow. My throat feels like it’s on fire. “I’ve never run farther than two miles at once. And I’ve tried. Hard. I even joined a couch to 5k group to stay inspired and focused.”
“Those are good. My gram did that when she was training to run her first half marathon.”
I laugh-groan. “Great. Even your grandmother is in better shape than I am. Way to make me feel like a loser, Halloran.”
He puts his hand on my back, rubbing his palm up and down my aching spine. “You’re not a loser. You just need someone to troubleshoot for you. You’re probably just doing something to sabotage yourself without even realizing it.”
“Like what?”
“Could be lots of things,” he says. “I have a friend who can’t have caffeine before he runs or he gets leg cramps. My ex had to up her calorie intake. She kept tapping out around mile four. Finally, we realized she was just running out of fuel. She added more carbs to her dinners the night before a run and was good to go from then on.”
I perk up at the mention of his ex. He hasn’t been very forthcoming about his past relationships, and I can’t help but be curious. “Was that the dentist?”
He nods. “Yeah. She runs marathons now, so there’s hope for you.”
I snort. “Doubtful. Highly doubtful. But good for her. Are you two still in touch?”
“We’re social media friends,” he says, his expression remaining peaceful as he takes in the view. “And we had a beer last time I was in Kansas City.”
I try to tamp down my nosy side, but my mouth has a mind of its own. “This was the woman you asked to move to Hidden Kill Bay, right? The one you dated for a long time?”
“Yeah. Marcy.”
“So, it was serious with her,” I muse, deciding that if I’m in for a penny, I’m in for a pound. “Isn’t it hard being just friends now? I mean, with all that intense history between you?”
He turns to me, his gaze connecting with mine with a sizzle I feel over every inch of my too-hot skin. “It wasn’t all that intense.” He pulls in a breath and exhales with a shake of his head. “Weirdly enough, I was just thinking about that on the way up here. About her. It’s like you said—I’ve always gotten together with someone I randomly happened to connect with. It’s not intentional and never a case of looking for a partner who checks my boxes.” His brows lift. “To be honest, I’ve never thought about the things I wanted or needed. I mean, beyond the basic I-want-to-be-with-a-decent-human-I-like-to-kiss aspect of it. It sounds stupid, I know, but I think I expected fate to take care of it for me.”
I lean back against the bench, grateful that my stomach muscles have decided to stop trembling. “It’s not stupid. A lot of people think that way. It’s the story we’re told, right? From every animated fairy tale we watched as kids to the songs and stories we listen to as we grow up? We’ll meet someone, and it will be like magic. Boom.” I wiggle my fingers. “Sparkles and hearts. Destiny fulfilled and we live happily ever after without having to work for it.”
He winces. “Yeah. Something like that. It seems so lazy, though, when you stop to think about it. Lazy and entitled. Everything else, I know I have to work my ass off. I sure as hell wouldn’t expect fate to drop those things in my lap.”
I shift on the bench, laying a hand on his knee. “Give yourself a break. If we noticed the cultural conditioning, it wouldn’t work so well or be so hard to shake. I’m sure I’d be the same way if I hadn’t grown up watching the fate thing fail over and over again for my mom.”
“You’re right, but still…” He turns back to the view, and I follow his gaze. The scene is idyllic, all rolling hills dotted with farms and gorgeous old barns that make me want to pick up my pastels again.
“Wow,�
� I breathe. “That’s pretty. Totally worth losing a lung to see.” I glance back at him, knowing I should let this go, but I guess I’ve given up on making responsible decisions today. “But still what?”
“Hmm?” he murmurs.
“You said I was right, but still… Still what?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, his expression innocent. “I can’t remember. Guess I’m tired, too.”
I shoot him a narrow look that he meets with a twinkle in his eyes, confirming my suspicions. He knew I was lying before, and now he’s taking his revenge.
But if I call him on it, I’m caught, too.
So I simply smile and say, “Guess we both should have taken a nap instead of a hike. Should we head home? Forget ice cream and food shopping and get some rest?”
“Hell, no,” he says with a scowl. “What’s wrong with you, woman? In a contest between napping and ice cream, ice cream wins every time.”
I laugh and lean into him, bumping his shoulder with mine. “Then let’s go. I’m starving.”
We head down the mountain, which unfortunately isn’t as easy as it sounds. My sneakers keep sliding in the gravel covering the trail, and Zack’s knee starts aching halfway down.
“You’re getting old before your time,” I tease as he winces again.
“I tore a ligament during a race when I was sixteen. It has nothing to do with getting old.”
“That’s what all the old people say.” He snatches at the hem of my T-shirt, and I dance out of reach, skidding in the loose gravel again.
I go down hard, but I’m laughing even harder. “Oh my God,” I moan. “By the time we get there, I’m going to be covered in dirt. I’ll be sending up a dust cloud like the poor little kid who’s friends with Charlie Brown.”
“The back of your shorts is pretty wrecked,” Zack says, laughing with me as he helps me up.
“Then dust me off, Halloran.” I cast a pointed look over my shoulder. “Help a girl out.”
Zack shakes his head. “Sorry. As much as I’d love an excuse to touch your butt, it won’t help. It’s totally ground in. You may never get those stains out.”
My lips turn down. “Shoot. This is the only pair of shorts I brought.”
“We can look for another pair in town,” Zack says, offering his arm for support as we pick our way through a patch of tangled tree roots popping through the center of the trail. “One of the stores might have something, as long as you’re not overly concerned about fashion.”
“I’m not, but there’s no reason to waste the time or money. I’m leaving soon.” I force my tone to stay upbeat as I add, “I can just wear dresses and skirts until then.”
“Right. That makes sense. We probably won’t be in the mood to hike tomorrow.”
“I’m already sore,” I confess. “I won’t be up to tackling another trail. Unless it’s a baby trail. A very flat, short baby trail.”
“Don’t seem to be many of those around here.” His lips curve in a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “We should spend tomorrow at the pool, soaking in the hot tub and lying in the sun.”
“Sounds heavenly.” I cling to him as I inch my way down a particularly steep stretch, really not wanting to bite the dust again. “But don’t you have to work? I don’t want to tempt you to play hooky if you need to get back in the studio.”
“I’ll work after you leave. I don’t have that much left to do, anyway. I told my manager I want to use at least four of the new songs. Between those and the stuff I wrote while we were touring in Europe, I’m almost done.”
I look up at him. “You told him that? When?”
“While you were changing. Then I turned my phone off so I wouldn’t have to argue with him about it until next week.” He arches a brow. “Is that passive-aggressive?”
“No, that’s one of those boundaries you were talking about earlier.” I squeeze his arm. “You had every right to put the conversation off until you’re ready to have it. But do you think he’ll be mad?”
“Maybe. But that’s not my problem. Bottom line, he works for me, and I need him to do his job to my satisfaction, not his.”
I hum beneath my breath. “Wow. That’s hot.”
He grins. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Boss-level confidence is super-hot. Have you always been like that? Just not cared what other people thought?”
“I care,” he says, sobering. “I care a lot. I just don’t take work stuff personally. The music itself is personal, yes, but the managing and promoting…it’s just business.”
“That makes sense.” We round a bend in the trail, and I exhale in relief as the turnoff comes into view. “Thank God, we’re almost there. Hopefully, they’ll have a bathroom at the ice cream shop. I need to wash my filthy piglet fingers.”
“You a cup or a cone kind of girl?” He takes my hand as the trail levels out, making no objection to touching me while I’m a dirty mess. One more little thing that makes my heart melt.
With every step, I’m more certain that leaving early is a wise choice—prolonged Zack exposure is like leaving chocolate out in the sun. Much more of it and I’ll be a love-sick puddle. “Cone. It’s the only way to go. Zero waste and extra crunchiness. It’s the original win-win.”
He wrinkles his nose. “I don’t know. I’m a cup guy.”
“What?” I ask, playing up my scandalized tone, anything to keep my mind off how much I want to stay here with him. Possibly forever. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t like crunch with my ice cream. I like it smooth, creamy, and a little melted.”
I cluck my tongue in disapproval. “How can you not like the crunch? The crunch is the best part. Tell me you at least like some crunchy stuff mixed into the ice cream itself.”
He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m old-school. Just plain vanilla or plain strawberry. No chunks. No crunch. That’s my jam.”
I blink, truly dismayed this time. “Wow. That’s it? You don’t ever even try new flavors?”
“I know what I like.”
“But there are so many amazing flavors out there these days! I had a bourbon apple crumble scoop while I was on vacation in Oregon that changed my life. Truly. I think about that ice cream at least once a week.” I sigh. “I wonder what it’s doing now. Is it still as delicious as I remember? Is Scoop-a-holic going to open a location in Hidden Kill Bay so I can fulfill my destiny to eat bourbon apple crumble every single day?”
“See, you know what you like, too.” He squeezes my hand. “Your tastes are just a little more exotic than mine.”
“I would try other flavors, too,” I amend as we cross a small footbridge leading over the creek to the general store’s parking lot. “I would just come back to my true love after I was finished.”
“I know you would,” he says. “You’re very loyal.”
I frown. “I am. I was just thinking about that earlier.”
“Good. If you’re reading my mind, I like to be able to return the favor.” Before I can respond, he turns to me, pushing me against the worn wood near the back of the general store, framing my face with his arms as he bends to kiss me.
And not just any kiss—a hard, deep, devour-my-lips kiss that has my heart galloping in my chest and my entire body tingling by the time he pulls away.
“What was that for?” I ask, my breath coming faster.
“To prove I can still surprise you, too,” he murmurs.
“You’ve been surprising me,” I whisper. “Over and over again.” I’m about to say something else, something I shouldn’t, about him surprising me in the best ways when a car horn pierces the quiet air.
Zack flinches, and I jump, knocking my elbow on the wood behind me. I curse beneath my breath, rubbing my smarting funny bone.
“You okay?” Zack asks.
Before I can reply, a slick black convertible pulls into the empty parking spot in front of us, and a blond man wearing reflective glasses hops out. He literally bounces from the vehicle and across the paveme
nt, light on his feet for a man with a sizeable belly stretching the front of his blue polo shirt.
“Zack, my man! What are the chances you’d be the first face I’d see on my way into town?” He punches Zack, who is looking uncharacteristically pissed, lightly on the arm before turning to me. “And you must be Colette.” He snags my hand, giving it a squeeze as he shoots an appraising glance at me over the top of his glasses.
“Yes, I am.” My skin crawls as his gaze sweeps up and down my body with an intimacy that makes me glad I’m wearing a bra for the first time in days. I have no idea how Zack knows this creep, but hopefully, we can ditch him as quickly as possible. “And you are?”
“Chip,” he says, baring his teeth in a predatory smile. “Manager, Zack’s biggest fan, and here to crash the party, sweetheart. I hope you two stocked up on coffee. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”
Chapter Twenty
Zack
I can’t believe Chip pulled this shit.
I can’t believe he showed up without any warning, tailed us into the grocery store—ignoring my attempts to send him on to the retreat without us—and bullied Colette into the back of his car with his luggage, insisting I take the front seat for the drive home.
I want to break down and flat out tell him to get lost, but I keep hearing Gram’s voice in my head, insisting I be a good host, even to the most unwelcome guest.
Besides, we have to have this argument sometime. I’d say we might as well have it now and get it over with, except that I only have two more nights with Colette.
And now Chip is determined to ruin one of them.
Unless I can get rid of him and convince her to stay.
I glance over my shoulder. Colette smiles from the back seat of the convertible, holding her hair out of her face as Chip whips around another mountain curve. I smile back, sending silent apologies for the tenth time and hoping she’ll see how sorry I am. She winks and gives a subtle thumbs-up, indicating we’re all good.