Page 87 of Small Town, Big Storm

I have no idea who Poppy is, not really, not any longer.I have seven years gone to blame for that.

How am I going to impress her?

What if Idon’timpress her?

What if I do all this—and I don’t mean the fucking date, or notonlythe date—and she realizes I’m not the one she wants?—

“Hey.”

I jump, realize that Poppy’s come out, and?—

“You are so fucking beautiful,” I blurt.

Her lips are parted, as though she’s about to say something else, but my words have her faltering, her cheeks going pink, her eyes sliding from mine and down to the cracked pavement of Sully’s parking lot.“Th-thanks,” she murmurs.“I, um, I—” More pink.More shy.More nerves.

Like this means as much to her as it does to me.

And suddenly that knot in my belly loosens.

I’m not on the outside.I’m not the only one feeling this hard.

I’m notalone.

The stakes are high for Poppy too.

Maybe even more so for her than for me.

And maybe it’s incongruous, but hell, if that doesn’t settle me.

High pressure.Higher stakes.

That’swhere I thrive.

And I know how to put the work in, how to keep going even when it makes sense to quit.

Know how to fight and battle and come out the other side on top.

Something clicks in place inside, something I haven’t felt in a long time, something that guides me as I close the distance between our bodies and smooth my knuckles over her cheek.“Walk with me?”I ask softly.

“O-okay,” she whispers.

I stroke lower, drifting my fingertips along one slender collarbone and then the other, skating them down the outside of her arm until I’m able to lace our fingers together.A light tug draws her into motion and then we’re walking through the parking lot, turning right onto Main Street, and?—

Running straight into Gertie Walkins.

Her eyes light up like she’s a kid in the candy store.

I expect a comment.

But she doesn’t say a word as we walk hand-in-hand by her.

Though as we pass, I hear the telltaleclickof a photo being taken.

“Christ,” I mutter, shaking my head.

Poppy giggles and it’s one of the best sounds in the world.“So,” she says, sounding much more like herself, “please tell me we’re eating at Molly’s.”A beat, the smile she points in my direction so bright it’s almost like looking into the sun.

Or finally coming out of the darkness.