He backed into the parking spot so the rear of the truck was facing the river, then left the radio on. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Beach Boys music this time, but some nice, soft country tunes.
“Let’s go sit on the tailgate. It’s a clear night. We can watch the barges go by.”
She got out and he opened the tailgate of the truck. She climbed on, and he sat next to her.
She stared out over the water. It was a clear, crisp fall night and the light from the moon sent a silvery sheen over the dark river.
“Remember when we came here for the fall carnival?”
She smiled at the memory. “Yes. All the rides were fun. I ate so much cotton candy I thought I was going to throw up on the Tilt-A-Whirl.”
“But you stomached it anyway. You were always so tough.”
She liked that he thought of her that way. “I didn’t want to be left behind. You and your friends wanted to ride every ride ten times that night, if I recall correctly.”
“Yeah.” He leaned back and stretched out his legs, propping one boot over the other. “Frank was the one who ended up getting sick.”
“That’s because he smuggled in beer, trying to look like a hotshot in front of my friends.” She shifted, half turning to look at him. “No, wait. He was trying to impress one of them. Laura Dusell, wasn’t it?”
“You might be right about that. He wanted to look like a big shot so he stole that six-pack of beer from his dad’s fridge, then hid them in his coat, taking swigs all night.”
Molly nodded. “He was acting like an ass, trying to grab a kiss from her. She was turned off by his beer breath and his attitude and kept pushing him away. And then he got off one of the rides and puked right in front of her.”
“Not a very impressive move, if I recall.”
Molly laughed. “Uh, no. She wanted nothing to do with him.”
“Some guys have to learn that lesson the hard way. But you girls didn’t make it easy for us.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, please. I was like a lovesick puppy around you. I fell for you as soon as you blinked those long, dark lashes of yours.”
He turned his head and gave her a slow, thoughtful stare. “Is that right?”
“Yes, and you know it. You didn’t even have to try.”
“Oh, believe me. I tried. I zeroed in on you the first day you hit the halls of the high school, and no other girl existed for me after that. You were the only one I thought about.”
Her heart skipped a beat at his confession. “Do you still say all the right things to women?”
“No.” He let out a short laugh and stared out over the river. “Trust me. No.”
Then he turned and looked at her. “With you and me, it was like . . . instantaneous. Like a fireball that hit me right between the eyes. It’s never been like that with anyone else.”
His confession zinged her right in the heart, and hurt at the same time. It had never been like that with anyone else for her, either. But she hadn’t expected him to admit that to her. Especially not now, all these years later.
She still felt it, that sizzling crackle of heat that simmered between them. It was as if could she reach between them, she’d see a sparkle of electricity, that invisible, silvery thread that still bound them. She almost expected it. She feared it, because it had consumed her back then.
Walking away from him had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. Severing the bond with Carter had nearly destroyed her. It was what had kept her away from Hope all these years. The pain of losing him—of what they’d had together—had made her heart ache every day of every year.
So what was she doing here with him now? What was she so stupidly contemplating? Reopening that door would only lead to heartbreak. Was she really strong enough to walk away from him again?
He picked up a lock of her hair, turning her attention to him. “Your brain is working so hard over there it’s practically spewing out smoke.”
Her lips curved. “Maybe.”
“Why don’t you give it a rest and stop thinking so much.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Yeah, I definitely have a better idea.”
Tempting, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to take that next step yet. Sitting here with him and talking was one thing. Doing something about it was entirely different. Once she did, that wall she’d carefully erected would fall. Then what would happen?
“You used that line on me in high school,” she said.
“Oh, but I’m much better at so many things now.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“Have you?” He gave her an expectant look. An irresistible smile.
She hopped off the tailgate and took a walk to the river’s edge.
Carter followed.
Fog had started to roll in, surrounding them in an eerie blanket of white smoke and sending a hush over the night.
She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself
“Are you cold?”
“A little.”
He positioned himself behind her and wrapped his arms around her, cocooning her against his chest. She felt the heat of his body, the hard shock of how much broader he was now than he’d been in high school.
They used to hang out in the park and sit by the pond. He’d pull her onto a bench, snugging her between his thighs, with his arms wound tightly around her. She’d rest her head against his chest. The two of them could sit together for hours and not say a word, just watching the geese. She’d always been so content just being with Carter.
“Let’s go sit on the tailgate. It’s a clear night. We can watch the barges go by.”
She got out and he opened the tailgate of the truck. She climbed on, and he sat next to her.
She stared out over the water. It was a clear, crisp fall night and the light from the moon sent a silvery sheen over the dark river.
“Remember when we came here for the fall carnival?”
She smiled at the memory. “Yes. All the rides were fun. I ate so much cotton candy I thought I was going to throw up on the Tilt-A-Whirl.”
“But you stomached it anyway. You were always so tough.”
She liked that he thought of her that way. “I didn’t want to be left behind. You and your friends wanted to ride every ride ten times that night, if I recall correctly.”
“Yeah.” He leaned back and stretched out his legs, propping one boot over the other. “Frank was the one who ended up getting sick.”
“That’s because he smuggled in beer, trying to look like a hotshot in front of my friends.” She shifted, half turning to look at him. “No, wait. He was trying to impress one of them. Laura Dusell, wasn’t it?”
“You might be right about that. He wanted to look like a big shot so he stole that six-pack of beer from his dad’s fridge, then hid them in his coat, taking swigs all night.”
Molly nodded. “He was acting like an ass, trying to grab a kiss from her. She was turned off by his beer breath and his attitude and kept pushing him away. And then he got off one of the rides and puked right in front of her.”
“Not a very impressive move, if I recall.”
Molly laughed. “Uh, no. She wanted nothing to do with him.”
“Some guys have to learn that lesson the hard way. But you girls didn’t make it easy for us.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, please. I was like a lovesick puppy around you. I fell for you as soon as you blinked those long, dark lashes of yours.”
He turned his head and gave her a slow, thoughtful stare. “Is that right?”
“Yes, and you know it. You didn’t even have to try.”
“Oh, believe me. I tried. I zeroed in on you the first day you hit the halls of the high school, and no other girl existed for me after that. You were the only one I thought about.”
Her heart skipped a beat at his confession. “Do you still say all the right things to women?”
“No.” He let out a short laugh and stared out over the river. “Trust me. No.”
Then he turned and looked at her. “With you and me, it was like . . . instantaneous. Like a fireball that hit me right between the eyes. It’s never been like that with anyone else.”
His confession zinged her right in the heart, and hurt at the same time. It had never been like that with anyone else for her, either. But she hadn’t expected him to admit that to her. Especially not now, all these years later.
She still felt it, that sizzling crackle of heat that simmered between them. It was as if could she reach between them, she’d see a sparkle of electricity, that invisible, silvery thread that still bound them. She almost expected it. She feared it, because it had consumed her back then.
Walking away from him had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. Severing the bond with Carter had nearly destroyed her. It was what had kept her away from Hope all these years. The pain of losing him—of what they’d had together—had made her heart ache every day of every year.
So what was she doing here with him now? What was she so stupidly contemplating? Reopening that door would only lead to heartbreak. Was she really strong enough to walk away from him again?
He picked up a lock of her hair, turning her attention to him. “Your brain is working so hard over there it’s practically spewing out smoke.”
Her lips curved. “Maybe.”
“Why don’t you give it a rest and stop thinking so much.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Yeah, I definitely have a better idea.”
Tempting, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to take that next step yet. Sitting here with him and talking was one thing. Doing something about it was entirely different. Once she did, that wall she’d carefully erected would fall. Then what would happen?
“You used that line on me in high school,” she said.
“Oh, but I’m much better at so many things now.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“Have you?” He gave her an expectant look. An irresistible smile.
She hopped off the tailgate and took a walk to the river’s edge.
Carter followed.
Fog had started to roll in, surrounding them in an eerie blanket of white smoke and sending a hush over the night.
She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself
“Are you cold?”
“A little.”
He positioned himself behind her and wrapped his arms around her, cocooning her against his chest. She felt the heat of his body, the hard shock of how much broader he was now than he’d been in high school.
They used to hang out in the park and sit by the pond. He’d pull her onto a bench, snugging her between his thighs, with his arms wound tightly around her. She’d rest her head against his chest. The two of them could sit together for hours and not say a word, just watching the geese. She’d always been so content just being with Carter.
