Page 28 of The Long Way Home
She exhales and finally lifts the lid. “You’re not. I just—this whole thing feels… loaded.”
“You mean coffee, or that I still care whether you’re happy?”
She shoots me a look and rolls her eyes. “Let’s not start with that again.”
“I’m not starting anything,” I say, throwing my hands up innocently. “Just trying to be honest.”
She sips slowly. “You know I hate to admit when you’re right.”
At first, I think she’s talking about her horrible relationship with Ben, but then she lifts her cup toward me.
“But you got my order right.”
The sharpness in her voice softens, and a light, content sigh slips out. It slides under my skin before I can convince myself not to catalog it in my brain.
I clear my throat, shoving the thoughts down like I’ve done a hundred times before, but it’s useless. I swear I used to be better at keeping them in check. I used to be able to think about her, watch her, talk to her, hell, even brush past her without my body staging a rebellion. But it is like my tolerance for her has plummeted over the last four years.
Fifteen minutes of her attention is enough to leave me buzzed. In her presence I’m suddenly a little light-headed and stumbling over my own words like I’ve had one too many. I’m drunk on her without a single sip.
“I guess time doesn’t change some things.”
She tilts her head, lips curving down. “Some things are forced to change.”
I blow out a breath. “Okay, fair,” I say, peering over my cup. “But looks like you’re still pretty good at keeping me on my toes.”
Her fingertip traces a faint water ring on the table. “So, you’re still in town? I thought you’d go home by now. You never stay long in this place.”
“This is home, Rach,” I say, testing her. Might as well get this part over with.
She blinks once, slowly, like her brain’s stuck buffering.
“I—uh, I’m back for good,” I add, leaning my elbow on the table. “Took a job here. Actually, it’s at the fire department in Brookhaven.”
Her brows lift, surprise flashing before she masks it. “Wait. You’re serious?” Her tone sharpens again. “You moved here?”
It’s kind of cute watching her face scrunch up in confusion.
“Have you known me to be anything but serious?”
She doesn’t answer that. Just blinks again, and I think she’s recalibrating.
“So, uh, yeah.” I take a sip of my coffee. “Started this week, actually.”
“Wow,” she says finally. “That’s big.” Her eyes dart around, and I can almost see the gears turning.
“Mhmm-hmm.” I sip again. “Figured it was time, you know.”
“Time for what?”
“For a change.” I set my cup down. “To be a little closer to people who matter.” I want to be direct, like we used to be. But after the last time we talked, I know I have to tread carefully.
She stays silent, narrowing her eyes while studying me. I feel her testing me, but she doesn’t walk away. That counts for something, right?
“You always had a thing for timing,” she says with a shaky laugh.
I grin, half-assed. “Yeah. Clearly not always good timing,” I say, speaking past the lump in my throat.
“How’s work?” I ask quickly, trying to shift her focus before she digs up another reason to be mad.
