Page 82 of In Every Chapter

Cal’s got her and Khia. I heard her begging for a sleepover.

LIZ:

Khia, not Rosie, lol. *laughing emoji*

JULIET:

We’ve got her. Are you okay? Did something happen?

ME:

Everything’s peachy. Just heading stargazing.

LIZ:

Is that what the kids call it these days? *smirk emoji* *dancing woman emoji*

JULIET:

Liz. My brother. Don’t make it weird.

ME:

See you for brunch in the morning!

I clicked my phone off, cheeks warm thanks to Liz’s teasing.

Liz and Ben were staying with Myles and Juliet, and Nash and Stephanie had rooms at Mama D’s, so no one would be waiting on us to get home tonight.

Greyson smiled at me in the dim light, and the truck’s throaty rumble filled the night. He slid his hand across the seat, palm up, and I took it, lacing our fingers.

We stayed like that the whole drive, and I loved the roughness of his calluses and the way his thumb played with my knuckles. We talked about everything and nothing while George Strait and Alan Jackson serenaded us on the radio.

After Greyson put the truck in park at the outlook, he reached into the back seat and grabbed a blanket. “Just in case,” he said with a wink. Hopping out, he jogged around to my side and opened my door.

“Thank you, kind sir.”

“Anytime, love.”

I laughed and sucked in lungfuls of the fresh night air. Pine and earth filled my nose. It was nothing like Seattle or Oregon, but maybe it was for the best. I still had salt in my veins, but it was fading. The dust in my lungs made me feel alive. This was where I belonged.

Greyson spread the blanket out in the back of the truck bed, but I grabbed his hand before he helped me onto the tailgate.

“Can we dance first?” I asked, wistfully glancing around the small grassy outlook point nestled between the shadowy rust-coloured rocks.

“Sure.” Greyson went back to the truck and turned the key so Tim McGraw crooned lightly, filling the night space.

My pulse fluttered as he approached me, his step determined, his gaze raking over me.

“May I have this dance?” Greyson asked, voice gravelly.

“Of course.” I let him pull me close, running my hands over his biceps and shoulders to rest at his neck while his snaked around my lower back. I leaned into him, resting my cheek on his soft T-shirt. He smelled sweet like syrup and baked goods, no doubt from the pancake breakfast, but his deodorant of citrus and sandalwood wrapped me into a hazy cocoon of safety. My mind was deliciously quiet for once.

“Did you have fun today?” Greyson asked when the music shifted to Alison Krauss and Union Station’s “When You Say Nothing at All.”

“Mm-hmm,” I murmured, tilting my head back to look at him. “You?”

Silvery moonlight from a quarter moon (I never could keep them straight) bathed his features in light and shadow, making him even more handsome. How was that possible? “Any time spent with you is my favourite,” Greyson said, bending to rest his forehead against mine.