Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Lu

"Where to today, Lucy Liu?"

Six fifteen p.m. Right on time. My hero.

I grinned in response to Noah's Lu nickname. Apparently, this was our thing now. And I didn't see any reason to fight my amusement—not the way Noah did. I could feel his reluctance like a tangible thing.

Last night, when we'd gone for burgers at Skytop Diner after I'd gotten stood up by my asshole blind date, Noah had been very cautious with me. And maybe that was just part of meeting someone new and trying to gauge how crazy they were. Could be that was just Noah—reserved and guarded—but I didn't think so. His amazing hazel eyes would brighten at something I'd said before quickly looking away. His lips would twitch with the beginnings of a smile but then flatten back out as if he'd made a conscious decision to withhold his amusement, to appear unaffected.

Something told me that I'd have to earn it with this guy. He didn't trust easily or he'd been hurt somewhere along the way. Either way, I was a persistent little gremlin—he just didn't know it yet. And my instincts flared bright and loud, telling me that Noah needed a friend. He was new to town, after all. But more than that, I could see the sadness lingering over him like a storm cloud, and I wanted to help.

We'd had fun together. He was sharp and funny, and I'd liked him right away. I'd certainly had more fun on the short drive to the restaurant than waiting for some online match who had no respect for my time and had failed to show.

"Today," I said, finally responding to his question, "I'm going to a family dinner."

Tossing my purse in the back seat, I climbed into Noah's baby-blue Bronco and got situated.

Eyes flicking to mine in the rearview mirror, he said, "Why the face?"

Had I made a face? Probably. It was hard for me to keep my emotions to myself. And it was even more difficult to mask my feelings. Especially when they were complicated.

"Family dinners are a whole thing," I admitted. "My dad remarried when I was in high school, and my stepfamily . . . isn't my biggest fan. Today we are gathering to meet my stepsister's newest boyfriend."

I honestly didn't know what to expect. My stepsister, Ginny, was difficult to get close to. We were the same age and had been classmates since preschool. But we'd never been friends. It didn't stop me from trying, though. Besides, any opportunity to see my dad was never a wasted effort.

"Sorry," he mumbled awkwardly, hazel eyes back on the road as he left my apartment complex. "Families are tough. Just because the proximity is there doesn't mean the connection is."

"Yes. Exactly. Sometimes you have to really work to make those relationships stronger."

Noah's dark brows furrowed in the rearview mirror, but he didn't say anything.

"What?" I prompted, curious why he'd been the one to make a face this time. "You don't agree?"

His eyes touched mine briefly before flitting back to the road.

"You can tell me," I urged. "We're friends now. I introduced you to the best burger of your life. Our friendship is solidified in the annals for Cozy Creek fine dining."

"I wouldn't say the best burger of my life."

I made an affronted squawk that had him smiling, faint lines fanning out near his temples.

"Fine. It was the best burger I've ever had."

"Thank. You," I replied with an obnoxious amount of haughtiness, but his grin just widened. "Tell me what you're holding back. You disagree with what I said about families."

Noah sighed and flipped his blinker as we approached an intersection for the road my father lived on. "I just think that you shouldn't have to force it. Just because someone is related to you doesn't make you obligated to them." I opened my mouth to argue, but he continued as he drove slowly through the upper-middle-class neighborhood. "I'm not close with my parents. I visit on holidays and call every couple of months. And that was when we lived in the same town. They never made the effort to stay in my life as an adult, and that's fine, you know? They raised me. I was safe and warm and fed. But I get the sense that they saw me to my eighteenth birthday and then considered themselves done. Job finished. They have their own interests and lives and no desire to really know me as this adult version of the boy they raised."

I'd been watching him in the mirror the whole time he spoke, noting his frank honesty and unbothered expression, but he hadn't glanced up until now. "Hey, don't be sad. It's okay," he said in alarm.

That was so . . . so . . . awful. Why didn't Noah's parents try harder? Why didn't Noah? "Maybe you just need to work to let them know you as you are now. Then they'll see what an awesome person you are and want to be in your life for more than holidays and occasional phone calls."

"First of all, we just met. You don't know that I'm an awesome person. I could listen to Nickelback or use my speakerphone in public. And second of all, why should I have to work for it? Just because we share DNA? I wouldn't keep putting in the one-sided effort with, let's say, a friend from high school I'd grown apart from. I would probably let that relationship run its course."

I had no idea what to say. That was so counter to my entire life. I'd been working hard to keep my family together for years—even with my aloof but well-meaning father and reluctant stepfamily.

"Lu, don't look so distraught." Noah laughed a little. "I feel like I broke you."

I cleared my throat, hoping to push away the uncomfortable emotion I felt. "No. I'm fine. You didn't."

"I just think that sometimes people don't deserve blind faith and dedication just because of blood. Holding on to the past like a lifeline only drags you backward. The effort of maintaining a relationship should go both ways and be equal. Not one person killing themselves to keep it all together."

Part of me could understand where he was coming from. But when you only had so much family left, it was important to protect it and maintain it. Otherwise, you'd just be . . . alone. A relationship with my family had been my goal for so long. I couldn't imagine giving up on it.

Hell, I'd been subjecting myself to online dating for the better part of a year to try to find a partner—a connection. I loved my hometown and my friends and my job. I just wanted more .

"That got surprisingly deep. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overstep." Noah's low voice drew me out of the thoughts twisting me up unexpectedly on a Saturday evening.

"You didn't," I rushed to say. "I practically forced it out of you."

Noah slowed and pulled the Bronco into my father's driveway. Ginny's black BMW was parked in the middle and both my dad's and stepmom's vehicles were visible through the open garage door.

"Well, I hope your family dinner goes well. Hopefully, the new boyfriend is a decent guy."

"Thanks!" I replied brightly to make up for my strange and sour mood for the latter part of the drive. "I hope you have a good night, too. I'm sure you have to go and take care of the reason you moved here."

With his light brown hair a little disheveled from the wind, Noah spun in his seat to look at me. A teasing light shone in his expectant gaze. "And what reason is that?"

Deadpan, I replied, "Because you inherited that haunted mansion and have to stay there overnight in order to claim it."

"Yes, Scooby Doo. That is totally the reason I moved to Cozy Creek. You nailed it."

My grin claimed my features, stealing away the disquiet of our previous conversation. Noah's brilliant eyes tracked my amusement, and his own smile bloomed as well. And it felt all the more special because those grins were grudgingly given and few and far between. But my new goal, however futile, was drawing them out.

I liked his attention on me, so close in this confined space. Stealing fleeting glances in his rearview mirror made keeping a distance between us easy. But as he faced me, handsome features fully visible, that layer of protection suddenly stripped away, I felt the punch of attraction knock the breath out of me.

Gathering my things and my composure, I said, "I'll see you in a little while. Is nine okay? I already texted Jimmy."

"I'll be here, Lucifer."

I laughed delightedly and made my way inside my father's house, determined to hold on to the fizzy, happy feeling of Noah's teasing and his reluctant grin, even as I knew it couldn't get me through the next two hours.

The house was loud when I entered through the garage and into the mudroom off the kitchen. My stepmother's and stepsister's voices rose above the instrumental music my father played in the family room nearby.

I hadn't grown up in this house. Dad and Kimberly had moved here after they'd married the summer after my junior year of high school.

The home I'd shared with my mother and father was on the other side of Cozy Creek. A modest two-bedroom ranch with green shutters and a kitchen the size of a postage stamp. But I'd had fifteen years of love in that house. I'd learned how to ride a bike and then drive a car at the end of our cul-de-sac. There had been countless hours playing in the backyard—a lifetime ago. Cookie-making in our tiny kitchen. And learning how to paint with Mom at the dining table. Listening to records with Dad in his study. That life felt so distant now.

My mother died when I was fifteen. An aggressive cancer diagnosis hadn't given us long to prepare or say goodbye. I'd already been lost and adrift when my father had surprised me by dating and marrying Kimberly soon thereafter. He'd said he didn't like being alone—that he missed my mother too much. I figured that we must process grief differently because I wasn't looking for a replacement mother.

They'd married eight months after my mom died. My dad sold our family home, and we'd moved into Kimberly's mini mansion across town. She was a divorcée who volunteered at my high school and chaired the parent-teacher organization. I'd known her as Ginny Walker's well-dressed helicopter mom for as long as I could remember. But suddenly, she was my stepmother, and Ginny was supposed to be my stepsister instead of the most popular girl at school. Except she seemed to resent me for moving into her house and sharing her bathroom. Ginny didn't have a lot of sympathy as we were both forced to navigate this strange new situation. Her teasing and bullying escalated, and while she mostly ignored me at home, she and her cheerleader friends made my final year at Cozy Creek High School a living hell. She was always careful around my dad, so he never saw that side of her. And I'd been too afraid to rock the boat on my father's newfound happiness. So I'd kept my mouth shut. When graduation rolled around, I had been more than ready to pack up and attend Western Colorado University—several hours away—and live in the dorms.

But in escaping my stepsister, I'd missed out on time with my dad—my only remaining family member. If I didn't make an effort with Kimberly and Ginny, then I'd be all alone. Kimberly and I got along well enough. She wasn't antagonistic or anything. She just didn't really care about me.

I kept waiting for Ginny to grow up. To stop judging me and my clothes and my hair like we were still in high school. But here we were, both twenty-five years old, and still not any closer to being the blended family I was so desperate to make work. The jabs were subtler now and easier to withstand. It was important to me to have my dad in my life, so I kept the peace, made the effort, and hoped for the day it all paid off.

"Hi!" I said cheerfully to the room. Fake it till you make it, right?

My dad glanced up from the glass of wine he was pouring. "Hi, honey."

Kimberly and Ginny paused in their conversation so that my stepmother could murmur a polite hello.

Ginny turned her back and ignored me, picking up whatever thread they'd been discussing before I'd invaded their home. Something about a new car.

I pulled a bottle of wine out of my purse and deposited it on the counter before kissing my dad on the cheek.

Dad eyed the label and winced. "Would you like me to pour you a glass?"

"No, I brought it for Kimberly. It's from that vineyard in Aspen that she likes. I'll have a glass of whatever red you just poured."

Conversation once again paused before Ginny announced, "Mom isn't drinking right now. Bringing that in the house just tempts her, Lu. Great job."

My gaze shot to my stepmother, who looked pained, lines tight around her lips.

"Kimberly had some weird results come back in her blood work at her yearly checkup. Her doctor advised cutting back. She decided to give up wine before they test her again next month."

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Kimberly. I didn't realize. I'll just get rid of this," I offered, face flushing before I put the bottle back in my bag and hoisted it up on my shoulder.

As my stepmother remained quiet and tense, my dad shot me a sympathetic glance and passed me a glass of red wine—a grocery store brand and variety that Kimberly wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole.

"Should we abstain with her, Dad? Isn't that insensitive?"

He shook his head and winked in my direction before turning back to the stove and stirring something that smelled delicious. Dad was dressed casually in a black Cozy Creek High School polo tucked into jeans. You couldn't really take the school out of the principal even on weekends.

"Anything I can do to help with dinner?"

"Would you mind setting the table?" he called absently over his shoulder.

"I can do that," I replied brightly, placing my glass on the counter.

While I didn't see Ginny's mystery boyfriend, I assumed he must be running late. Gathering up cloth napkins, plates, and utensils for five, I headed to the adjacent dining room while Kimberly and Ginny continued their conversation, and my father monitored the saucepan.

I was straightening the last place setting when Ginny paused in the doorway to the dining room and said, "What are you doing?"

"Setting the table," I responded, ignoring her tone.

"There should only be four."

My head rose at Ginny's announcement. "Your boyfriend couldn't make it? I was looking forward to meeting him."

She crossed her arms defensively before curling her upper lip in a snarl. "He turned out to be a loser not worth my time."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Are you okay?"

Ginny's dark brows furrowed in confusion. "Of course I am."

I took in her crop top and wide-leg jeans, her full face of makeup, and her glossy brown hair with auburn highlights. She wasn't one of those horrible popular people who'd aged poorly since high school. Ginny was still beautiful—pretty packaging that she maintained ruthlessly.

"Well, I'm sure you'll meet someone else," I managed with some genuine sympathy. Dating was a bitch. I knew that firsthand. Ghosting and dick picks and the occasional married asshole trying to cheat on his wife had been my experience as I'd put an effort into online dating this past year. Heck, I'd even tried speed dating down at Bookers Pub and Grill. There hadn't been a single winner in the bunch and most never made it beyond the first date.

An unladylike snort erupted out of my stepsister. "Are you trying to give me dating advice, Luanne?" Using my full name was her favorite. "I heard you got stood up last night at The Tavern. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll meet someone else," she repeated my words in a syrupy-sweet tone.

I held her dark gaze a moment before looking away in defeat. Inwardly, I cursed at another failed attempt to make anything of this relationship with Ginny. She was determined to keep up the spoiled princess routine, and I took a deep breath so I wouldn't snap out something nasty that I couldn't take back.

Gathering up the fifth place setting we wouldn't be needing, I avoided Ginny and went out the far end of the dining room and backtracked down the hallway into the kitchen.

Kimberly was now at the stove, and I spied my father manning the grill out on the deck. My stepmother wore what I called fancy loungewear. Her pale off-the-shoulder sweater looked soft and expensive, and her dyed-blond hair was piled high in a strategic- looking messy bun. Sparkling diamonds in her ears and a delicate gold link chain necklace around her neck completed the look.

She didn't turn as I approached. When I was done putting away all the unused dinnerware, I cleared my throat. Kimberly finally glanced over her shoulder in my direction.

I made sure my father's attention was still focused on the grill before speaking. "So, Kimberly, I wanted to talk to you about Dad's birthday coming up. I thought maybe we could plan a surprise party for him. Invite his friends from the racquet club and school, maybe his book club, too."

I could feel myself fighting to keep the smile on my face, my cheeks trembling at the edges as the silence stretched, and my stepmother looked at me with an awkward expression.

"Well, Ginny and I already made reservations at Laurel Park Inn for a nice dinner. It's your father's favorite, you know."

"Oh." Disappointment and confusion churned in my stomach as the smile I'd been trying to maintain fell away in heated embarrassment.

"You're more than welcome to join us," Kimberly rushed to add. "I can adjust the reservation."

"Thank you. That would be great." I nodded quickly to cover my hurt and the implications of her words. That I wasn't included in the first place. How I wasn't wanted. How everything involving my stepfamily was like pulling teeth.

Noah's matter-of-fact words floated back to me as I struggled through my feelings of frustration and anger. " The effort of maintaining a relationship should go both ways and be equal. Not one person killing themselves to keep it all together."

But then my dad entered the kitchen holding a platter of grilled chicken at the same time Ginny came to stand next to her mom. "There are my girls." He looked so happy as we all smiled back.

For as stilted and polite as my relationship with Kimberly had always been, she did seem to genuinely love my dad. After being married to Ginny's father—an aloof workaholic—for almost eighteen years, she was happy to have the attention of my soft-spoken and kind-hearted father—a man who made her a priority in ways her ex never had. Benjamin Billings had shown up to all my dance recitals and softball games. He'd attended my art shows and was an integral part of my life growing up. Kimberly saw his dedication and commitment and returned it with her own devotion and love. She might tolerate me, but she cared deeply for my father.

Even when I'd been grieving my mother and the life I'd once known—confused by my father's decision to marry so soon after her passing—I'd never tried to drive a wedge between my dad and Kimberly. I didn't understand it, but I was glad he'd found happiness again. If I had to put up with Kimberly's ambivalence, I would do it. And at some point during college, I decided that it wasn't enough to simply survive my new stepfamily. For my dad's sake, I wanted us to thrive.

My goals had changed after returning home to Cozy Creek. I'd gained confidence in art school and was excited to start my own business selling my artwork. I'd had time and distance from the horrors of high school and the lingering sadness of my hometown. I'd wanted to take the only family I had left and make it a family in truth. I craved togetherness—holidays and family dinners, celebrations and group chats. But we'd never really gotten there.

However, it didn't stop me from trying. Lu Billings was no quitter.

The meal progressed as usual, with Kimberly and Ginny dominating the conversation while Dad and I listened. I mentioned the Fall Festival next month to lay the groundwork on suggesting we all attend together. I'd bring it up again, but I needed to let them warm up to the idea. Maybe this was the year it would happen.

Dad asked, as he always did, about work while Ginny snorted pointedly. I ignored her and told him my online shop was doing well. Cozy Creek had a busy tourist season, so the farmers' market was pretty profitable for me since out-of-towners were interested in taking some inexpensive artwork home with them. Not to mention the greeting cards I made and the orders I'd need to fill before the upcoming holidays. Things were busy, but that was the way I liked it.

"You know there are some openings in the school district if you ever wanted to work with kids," Dad reminded me for possibly the thousandth time. "And I hear Shelby Hanzsek is retiring at the end of this school year."

Mrs. Hanzsek had been my elementary art teacher. I'd liked her a lot. She'd been a wonderful teacher, always encouraging me.

"You'd be great with kids, Lu," my dad said sincerely, pointing his fork in my direction. "And you'd get to use your art degree for something more than a hobby."

Ginny snorted again, and I glanced in her direction. "Sorry. Must be allergies or something."

My dad had resumed eating, but I still felt the need to say, "Yeah, I'll think about it."

A familiar discomfort settled in the pit of my stomach at the way my dad minimized my career. I knew how much he valued education and, of course, appreciated that he wanted the best for me. But it still stung that he didn't trust that I knew what was best for myself. Family gatherings went this way sometimes—most times—but I tried to remember that my dad loved me. But with the nosedive in the conversation, I pretty much just moved the food around on my plate for the rest of the meal.

At four minutes until nine, I gathered my bag and told everyone good night, ignoring the way I only received two responses instead of three.

Noah and the Bronco waited in the driveway, the notes of a folk song I didn't recognize floating to me on the chilly night air. A smile spread across my face, and I hurried to the back seat.

"So how was it?" Noah said, tilting his head in my direction to pick up my answer.

I swallowed around the sore feeling and wistful regret that often lingered after a family dinner. "It was . . . fine," I finally settled on. I'd left my apartment with a hopeful heart and the best intentions for the evening. But over the course of the meal, I'd been reduced to something small and disappointed. I could feel the stiff ache in my shoulders from holding myself together so tightly. It was strange how encounters with my family could leave me feeling lonelier than ever.

Some twisted part of me didn't want to admit my struggles or acknowledge that Noah's words early in the evening had wrapped themselves around me and cast a shadow over every conversation with my family.

I could feel Noah's eyes on me in the rearview mirror as he put the vehicle in reverse. "Did the new boyfriend pass the test?"

"Oh," I replied, having nearly forgotten about the whole reason for the visit tonight. "He wasn't there. They broke up already. Poor guy dodged a bullet." Then I immediately felt guilty for my snarky comment.

Noah laughed. "Was your stepsister upset?"

"Nah, not really."

"That's good."

Before silence could descend, I decided I wasn't ready to call it a night. I was in a weird mood from dinner and didn't want to let this loneliness fester. Eating my feelings felt like the way to go. And spending time with Noah had been the best part of my week so far. I wouldn't dwell too much on the way seeing his car idling in my father's driveway had given me a sense of relief. "Hey, want to grab some ice cream? I bet you haven't tried Dottie's yet. It's a hole-in-the-wall but makes the best waffle cones you've ever had in your life."

Noah stopped at a traffic light, and I could see the headlights behind him brighten his features in the mirror, showing his skeptical hazel eyes squint in my direction. "I don't know. What if your Best of Cozy Creek skills are limited to burgers and tots?"

Laughing, I replied, "Well, I guess you'll just have to take the leap and find out."

Despite the late hour, Dottie's parking lot was packed when we arrived.

I'd tried not to stare when Noah unfolded his tall, lean frame from the driver's seat of the Bronco and held the door open for me. But he was a good-looking guy. His light brown hair was a little messy again tonight, windblown and carelessly disheveled in a way that made me want to run my fingers through it.

He wore a tee shirt and jeans with the casual confidence of someone with a workout routine that involved cardio or an unfairly high metabolism. I'd forced myself to look away when Noah had shoved his hands in his front pockets and exposed a millimeter of toned midsection.

Once inside, I ordered a waffle cone with two scoops of pumpkin cheesecake swirl since it was quickly approaching my favorite season of the year. Noah opted for chocolate chip cookie dough, and I applauded his choice.

"Classic crowd-pleaser," I said after he'd given his order to the teenager behind the counter.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know I was being judged by my ice cream selection."

I gave him a slow blink and an expectant stare. "Of course. How else would I know if you were a serial killer?"

He paused in reaching for his wallet. "What would a serial killer order?"

Resisting the urge to crack up, I moved easily around him, inching closer to Kaitlyn working the cash register. "Pistachio. Obviously."

"God, I hate how much sense that just made."

I laughed, slipping my credit card to the Dottie's employee.

"You don't need to do that," Noah said sharply.

I spun to face him. "I invited you. It's my treat."

Dark brows furrowed over stormy eyes, Noah looked like he wanted to argue, but Kaitlyn was already swiping my card. And just then, the other employee got his attention to pass him his cone and mine.

"Thank you," Noah murmured quietly, but I noticed it took two attempts to swallow before he got the words out.

What could have happened to this guy that accepting an ice cream cone from someone felt like a concession? I wanted to hug him and buy him an ice cream. But I wouldn't. I'd give him some space instead.

I didn't say "you're welcome" or "anytime" or anything at all. I thought it might be better to pretend an exchange of goods and services had never occurred. So I snagged an empty table just as some tourists vacated the premises.

Part of me worried that Noah might not follow. That he'd just take his cone and bail, but when I shimmied onto the bench of the small booth, Noah sat himself down on the seat across from me, knees bumping mine with every slide and adjustment.

Under the fluorescent lights of the establishment, Noah's skin looked like the sort of luminous pale that tanned easily in the summer, but maybe it had been a while since he'd seen the sun. I wondered again where he'd come from and why he'd relocated to Cozy Creek, but I knew better than to ask outright. Noah still wore his distrustful pants and, boy, were they cinched tight around the waist.

"So," I began, all nonchalance between licks of pumpkin cheesecake swirl, "how are you settling in to Cozy Creek life? You're in an apartment above Main, right?" He'd mentioned it during our casual burger hang at Skytop. Leading with something proven safe felt like the right way to go.

Noah placed a napkin on his lap, and I resisted the urge to swoon over his table manners. My last blind date had talked with his mouth full, and I'd had to escape to the bathroom when a piece of tortilla chip had evacuated his mouth onto my cheek. I'd scrubbed my face with foaming hand soap and screamed into my palm.

"Yeah, I'm in one of the apartments above the Confectionery."

I noticed he ignored the first part. "Oh, nice. That place is great. Just don't get the coffee."

"What? Why?"

I grinned. "Just trust me on that."

We licked our ice cream for a few moments, comfortable quiet filling the space between us as an acoustic cover played through the speakers over our heads. I didn't let myself linger over watching Noah and his chocolate chip cookie dough. Friends didn't stare at their friends' tongues. Pretty sure that was a rule somewhere. And I was determined to be this guy's friend. Noah needed it. I could tell.

While I tried not to focus on his mouth, I kept an eye on his progress, waiting for him to get to his first bite of waffle cone. And yep. There it was.

Noah's eyes—swirling greenish-brown in this light—widened, then shot to mine. "Holy shit. This is amazing."

"I know, right?"

"Seriously. It's the best waffle cone I've ever had in my life. It's buttery and crisp. And, God, it's still warm."

"I'm two for two," I singsonged.

Noah eyed me over his cone, face relaxed for the first time since I'd paid for his treat. "You really are, Lulabelle."

I looked down to hide my smile at the nickname.

When I'd composed myself, I crunched into my own waffle cone, making sure to get a bite of pumpkin cheesecake swirl with it.

"We don't have ice cream cones like this back in South Carolina."

I stayed very still lest movement might startle the tight-lipped males of the species. "Oh yeah?" My tone was carefully casual.

"Yeah," Noah confirmed, his attention still fixed on the cone in his hand. "It's a really tiny town."

"I might know a thing or two about that."

He gave me a knowing grin. "Yeah, but Cozy Creek is full of tourists."

"Only certain months out of the year," I corrected.

"And fall is the big one, right?"

"Yep and winter for skiing and snowboarding, but that's mostly up at the resorts on the mountain. Tourists are already here in anticipation of all our fall events." I loved my town. Yes, Cozy Creek put on all these autumn spectacles to draw in visitors, but that didn't mean the residents couldn't enjoy them too.

While Noah devoured his cone bit by bit, I told him about what it was like to live in Cozy Creek. I broke down all the events from now through the huge New Year's Eve bash on Main Street to close out the year. He listened and asked questions about my favorite things to do. And when our knees bumped together under the table, he didn't shift and pull away.

When the ice cream was gone, I shared some of my experiences in college and told him about my two best friends, Emma and Cody. Noah returned the favor by talking about his life in Baxter, South Carolina, and his friends there.

Being with Noah was fun. I'd been able to forget why I'd invited him out for ice cream in the first place. I didn't think about the failed dinner across town or my family at all.

The whole night felt easy and comfortable, like when a song you used to love popped up randomly on shuffle. The words came effortlessly, and a warm weight settled over me—something remembered and soft around the edges from comfort and practice.

Maybe I needed this burgeoning friendship just as much as Noah did.