twelve

Jack was still thinking about what Grace had said when the Dispatch delivery guy came in with an armload of the new issue. He dumped them on the counter, eyed the display case, and left without a word.

Her hands shook as she tugged at the knot holding them together. It took a moment for the image on the cover to register. At first glance, it was a simple shot of Jack and Graham leaning on the counter, laughing at some joke she couldn’t recall. It was casual and unposed—exactly the type of scene customers would expect to see on any given day at Crumbs.

But as Jack looked closer, she noticed a trail of pastel sparkles, which led from a cupcake on the counter to her nose—superimposed onto the photo.

She squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten. When she opened them, the scent trail was still there. If she didn’t know better, she’d have sworn the colors were getting brighter.

Her ability wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t common knowledge, either. She replayed the interview in her head to see if she’d slipped up and mentioned it in passing. Nothing she could remember even hinted that there was more to her than she’d let on.

Jack flipped through the pages in a frenzy looking for the article. She found it two-thirds of the way through. The photographs showed off artful shots of the cupcakes, the storefront, and Graham whisking a bowl of orchid-pink icing.

The callout quote in large, block letters screamed at her.

Jaclyn can literally smell people’s desires.

She gripped the magazine so tight that the paper crinkled in her hands. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to start at the beginning.

It started off innocent enough. The writer covered the shop’s history and Graham’s pastry school experience, Jack’s transition from corporate life, and how they developed new flavors. Harper’s name made its first appearance halfway through the article.

Harper hadn’t been there for the interview, but Darcy had talked to her anyway.

Something at the back of Jack’s mind said Melanie had something to do with her sister being involved. She could see Melanie popping by the Dispatch office and gossiping about how Harper was the new driving force behind Crumbs. She skimmed the section about her sister until she got to the full quote that had been called out.

“Jaclyn can literally smell people’s desires,” Harper had said. “She can’t tell you who you’ve got a crush on, but if you’re craving a mint cupcake or shortbread cookies or hummingbird cake, she’ll know. And she’s never wrong.”

Jack read the quote three times. Her head felt heavy, and she steadied herself with one hand on the counter. Her sister had all but invited the entire tri-county area to come in and test her. She would either be bombarded with smells she didn’t want or everyone would be so freaked out by her that they’d go out of business within a week.

She set down the magazine without finishing the article.

She picked it back up within minutes and read it seven more times in the hour that followed, by which time the betrayal she felt at Harper’s public revelation had turned to full-fledged fury.

“Hey there, little sister,” Hutton said as he swung in the front door.

She grumbled a reply without looking up from the glossy pages. Her temples pounded. The ache crept along her skull and pulsed at the top of her neck. She massaged it with one hand while the other trailed a shaky path through the story.

“You okay?” he asked, rubbing a hand on her back in slow circles.

“The article came out today.” She waved the magazine around like a handful of limp noodles. The pages slapped against the air.

“Give it, give it.”

When he reached for it, she snatched it back. “It’s bad,” she said. Her throat burned with tears she refused to let fall. “With one stupid quote, she might have ruined everything.”

He crooked his fingers for the magazine. It caught him under the chin when she tossed it to him. “Jesus, Jack. Could you dial it down a little? I don’t really want to be decapitated because you’re pissed at some dippy magazine writer.”

“Harper told her. About me, I mean,” she stammered.

“About—Oh.” He frowned at her.

“I sound like a freak.”

“I doubt that. You can’t help what you can do. Plus, it’s not like you secretly like licking people’s feet or anything.”

Jack knew he was trying to make her laugh, ease her frustration. It only made her want to hit him. She tried to take the magazine back from him.

“Would you give me a damn minute to read it?” He shook the magazine open with a loud pop. His face was hidden in its depths while he read.

Jack stood, tapping her foot to a silent rhythm. It reverberated in the empty room with a muted slap, slap, slap. Her whole body shook from the jittery movement. Each time her toe became faster and louder, he set the magazine down and waited for her to calm down before continuing to read.

“It makes the shop sound pretty kick-ass, so that’s good, right?”

“Really, Hutton? That’s all I get?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“How about ‘Sorry, Jack. That really sucks.’ Or ‘You should call and demand a rewrite.’ Any little show of support would be nice,” Jack said. Her voice cracked. She closed her eyes and breathed deep.

“Well, of course it sucks. And I’m sorry you’re upset.” He set the magazine down and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “But I don’t think there’s anything you can do. It is what it is. You can’t let it bother you.”

That was much easier said than done. Logically she knew Harper hadn’t done it to hurt her. She probably thought she was helping to turn the spotlight on Jack. But all Harper had managed was to share a secret Jack had only told to a handful of people.

She stepped away from him. “Did you just stop by to say hi or did you need something?” she asked.

“Just wanted to check that y’all are coming over tonight,” Hutton said as he walked toward the door. “Aria’s got a few dishes she wants opinions on.”

He wasn’t going to give her a chance to back out, she realized. Jack glared at his retreating blue shirt. She watched the street long after he’d gone. She watched until her eyes glazed over and stung.

When Harper and Graham walked in, laughing at something Jack didn’t hear, she threw the magazine at them. Its pages rustled before it slapped to the floor at their feet.

“Why can’t you learn to keep your damn mouth shut?” Jack asked and stormed out.

It was childish. But it felt so damn good. There was nothing Jack could do to help it. The more she told herself it wasn’t a big deal, the more she wanted to cry.

***

“What the hell was that all about?” Harper asked. She slammed the empty trays in the sink and stared at the back door. “Don’t you dare go after her. I want her to come back in here and grovel all on her own.”

Graham stopped halfway to the door. His heart pounded in his ears as he lifted the tattered magazine. The cover was bent and mangled, its edges smudged from being thumbed through too many times. It fell open to the article before he even knew what he was looking for.

Jack had circled Harper’s quote in a dozen loopy strokes.

Scanning the article, his mood plummeted. “Damn.” He turned back to the cover. The scent speckles in the photo were unmistakable. “Damn it to hell.”

He dropped it on the counter and jerked the door open. Her car was gone. He’d known it would be. His arms were heavy, his shoulders slumped. Staring at the empty asphalt, he ran through a list of what Jack would most likely do in her current mood. Graham pulled out his phone and called Hutton.

“Ooh, you’re in trouble,” Hutton sang into the phone.

“She called you? Do you know where she is?”

“I stopped by. And she was in a right state when I left her. I came by to see if we were on for tonight and she just kept reading the damn article and quoting from it. I thought she was losing it. Like for good, losing it.”

“Please tell me you didn’t say that to her. I know you forget that she’s a girl sometimes, but, man, she looked really upset when she left. If you did anything to make her feel worse, I will hurt you.” He stepped off the curb and paced behind the building.

It smelled like wet cardboard and stale beer. The pavement glistened in the spotty, early afternoon sun, as if the sky couldn’t decide if it wanted to spit rain a little longer or give up. His shoes splashed in the shallow puddles.

“Cool it, Graham. She’ll be fine.”

“Fine? Really? Did you read it?” Graham asked.

“Yeah, but I’ll bet most of the people who read it don’t even take it seriously. I mean, I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it happen so many times.”

“That’s not the point, Hutt. If she’d wanted people to know, she would’ve told them. It wasn’t Harper’s place to do it and it sure as hell wasn’t that reporter’s.”

“Did she talk to you when you got back?” Hutton asked.

“No. She threw the magazine at us and took off.” An engine idled. He turned toward the entrance to the parking lot. For a second he thought it was Jack. He started toward it, but stopped after a few feet when it pulled away.

“She hasn’t had a good fight in a while. She was due. Ever since Harp came home, she’s been on edge. Now maybe she’ll relax a little.”

“It’s not going to do any good if she doesn’t actually fight. Jack’s hurt, and you know as well as I do that she runs from conflict like it’s a fucking great white shark. We’ll be lucky if she speaks to any of us for days.”

He rubbed at the knot in his chest. The pressure from his palm did nothing to stifle the building tension. Hadn’t the stunt he pulled the other day been just as much of a betrayal? Shit. I’ve got to find her. He needed to talk to her before she worked herself up even more. Maybe, if he got to her soon enough, he could diffuse the situation. Maybe he could find a way to fix it. To make her stop hurting.

“Maybe space is what she needs,” Hutton said.

“Yeah. But maybe not. I’ll see you later.”

When he walked back in, Harper was reading the magazine. Sitting on the table, her legs scissored in front of her. All he could think was that Harper had no business being in the article, much less the shop after what she’d done. And while she could do things with icing he could only dream of, if it meant making Jack happy, he’d kick Harper to the curb. No questions asked.

“Uh-oh,” she said. But she struggled to contain the smile that pulled at her lips.

A part of him appreciated that she tried to feel bad. The other part wanted to tell her to get a grip. He settled for somewhere in between. “You should probably give Jack some space for a bit. Maybe not come tonight.”

“You’re kicking me out of the club?” she mocked.

“No. But I need to make sure she’s okay. And with you there, she won’t talk.” He slid onto the table next to her.

“It’s not like she’s talking to you right now, either.” She bounced her heel off of his. She stopped when he didn’t crack a smile after a few times. “It’s just one lousy article. She’ll be okay, Graham.”

“You don’t know how hard she worked to land that interview. Months, Harper. She spent months chasing the editor, sending the office free samples. It’s like wanting a puppy for Christmas and ending up with a goldfish.”

“But the story is great. It makes both of you sound, I don’t know, magical. And it makes the shop utterly unique. Who can resist coming in now?”

He drummed the rolled up magazine against his thigh. “I don’t think Jack sees it that way. She was already on edge after, after what I did. And then you went and told the world about what she can do,” he said.

“Not the world. Just Sugar.”

“You are so not funny right now.”

“I am, a little. So, you’re gonna get her a puppy?” she asked. Her voice was soft, almost romantic.

“Figuratively, yes.”

“You’d be a damn good catch, Graham.”

***

Graham left Harper in charge and went straight to Jack’s. Knowing she wouldn’t answer, he didn’t bother ringing, just let himself in with the spare key she’d given him a week after she moved in.

The only light in the room came from the radio and cast a mournful green glow on the floor. The sultry, Southern voice and soulful piano pulsing from the speakers made Graham think of first kisses and lying in the grass on summer nights.

Jack was on the couch, feet tucked under her, staring at a blank TV screen. He couldn’t make out her expression in the dark.

He sat next to her and leaned his temple to hers. The flyaway hairs fluttered against his skin. She smelled like oranges dipped in sugar. “I’m sorry. About last week. I never should’ve—”

“Don’t, Graham. You don’t need to,” she whispered.

Yes, I do.

He let his mind drift so that the room would fill with the scent of mint and lime. His desire was so strong, he could almost smell it. He thought he saw the hint of a smile play across her face before she turned away. He linked his fingers with hers. Her hand was cold, stiff. He rubbed it with his other hand to get the blood flowing. Her fingers didn’t grip him back.

They sat like that as minutes ticked by. The song’s lyrics boasted of true love and heartbreak and wishing life had turned out differently and praying nothing ever changed. The lyrics melded into the air and the fabric of their clothes, and merged with his skin until he was saturated with conflicting feelings too strong to ignore.

He never knew what he wanted when it came to Jack. But that hadn’t always been the case. Graham could still see, as if it was tattooed on the inside of his eyelids, every detail of the last time he’d thought he could make things work with her. He’d given her a ride home from school, driving just under the thirty-five-mile-per-hour citywide speed limit to make it last as long as possible. His car smelled faintly like citrus, a potent mixture that assaulted his senses even after she’d gotten out at her house and walked through the downpour toward the front door. She turned and watched him as she continued, backward, along the sidewalk.

He rolled down the window despite the rain. “Hey, Jack, hold up a sec.” He threw open the door and jogged to where she stopped. She only came up to his chin. But she filled up every inch of his vision. “Your brother is gonna kill me,” he said.

“What for?” she asked. “You got me home safe and sound.”

Instead of offering an immediate answer, Graham framed her face in his hands so that his fingertips tangled in her hair. It was warm despite the rain. With thick strands of it clinging to his hands, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. “That,” he said as he pulled back a fraction of an inch. He meant to keep the moment light, fun. But she stretched her arms around his back to pull him closer. And then they were kissing as if they were already halfway to bed.

He tilted her head back so that they could breathe. The break in contact was all it took for sanity to set in. Brushing his hand through her hair, he backed away. Her hands dropped, trailing down his back and grazing the tops of his hips. “See ya later, Jaclyn.”

She bit her lip and watched him walk away.

He grinned at her from the car as she still stood where he’d left her.

Even after fifteen years, he could still taste the subtle mix of lime and mint from Jack’s lip gloss. He squeezed her hand. When she turned to look at him, he was seized by the same intense desire. But this time he had years of restraint to keep him from kissing her.

Jack turned away as if she could read his thoughts. “Can I ask you something?” Her voice was shaky.

“Yeah.”

“How do you deal with it? With everyone knowing about your dad and granddad? About you?”

“I pretend it’s not real,” Graham admitted. He let his head fall back onto the cushion. He lifted their joined hands so he could slip his arm behind her neck without letting her go. Sighing, he said, “I think with my granddad, it was romantic. And everyone got caught up in that aspect of it. But then my father left and used that as an excuse, like it somehow made it okay to abandon his family. And now they’re all waiting to see what happens with me to know whether it’s real or not. To see if I’ll end up like him. Or worse.”

“Do you think there’s some girl out there just waiting for you to find her and touch her for the first time so y’all can live happily-ever-after?”

She tried to pull away from him, but he held her close. Her body was warm against his side. He could feel every breath, every hitch in it as he rubbed his thumb back and forth over the smooth skin of her hand.

“I don’t want there to be.”

“But what if there is?”

Graham sat silent, trying to decide how honest he could be with her. He listened to the quick bass beat emanating from the speakers. His heart kept time with it. “What if I’ve already met her and it’s just some stupid myth and I lose my chance with her? Then I’m no better than my father.”

“I know what he did was shitty, but at least he wasn’t scared to go after what he wanted.” Jack turned so her lips were inches away from his. Her eyes were wide and dark. “You don’t have to wait until it’s too late, Graham,” she said.

He could feel her breath on his neck. All he had to do was lean in, close the gap. “Jaclyn,” he whispered. She was a breath away.

He’d intended to keep the kiss light, but the moment his mouth met hers, the rush of need engulfed him. He forgot about his father and his grandfather and Hutton and all of the other reasons he’d built between him and Jack. She now controlled his every breath, every heart beat. When her lips parted he tasted a trace of salt. He let go of her hand to tangle his fingers in her thick hair. He held it away from her neck and worked his mouth along the soft skin just below her jaw.

She pulled back slightly, biting her lip, and met his eyes. Hers were a mix of confusion and need.

He’d wanted this for too many years to count. Something niggled at the back of his brain, though. Some spark of a memory too quick to grasp. He closed his eyes and touched his forehead to hers. “Your brother’s gonna kill me,” he said. The laugh that came out was quiet, short.

“That’s what you said last time. Yet here you still are. Alive and well,” Jack said.

Cupping her face, Graham brought her mouth back to his. Then he snaked his arm behind her back, pulling her closer so she was half on top of him. Her knee slid between his thighs and pressed against him. She met every urgent kiss with the same intensity. He felt her pulse jackhammering in her neck when he finally left her mouth and trailed kisses down to the fraying collar of her shirt that skimmed her collarbone. He ran his hands up her back, making her shiver, though her skin was hot everywhere he touched. Resting his hands on her sides, he grazed his thumbs over her ribs. He broke the kiss long enough to smile at her when she tightened her stomach muscles.

“Maybe we should wait, until we’re both thinking more clearly,” she managed between ragged breaths.

“Maybe we think too much,” he countered.

Thinking had only managed to keep them apart thus far. I’m done with thinking. I know what I feel. I know what I want. He nuzzled her neck again. Her soft laughter cut straight to his gut.

Jack wriggled away and held him at bay with a trembling hand to his chest. She whispered his name, but the hesitation behind it was loud enough to snap him back to reality. He reluctantly sat back.

“You think I’ll leave, don’t you?” he asked. He could see her answer in the tightness of her cheeks and the slight downturn of her lips.

“I’m worried that if you do, you’ll hate yourself for it. I don’t want to be the cause of that. You can’t help who you are or—”

“Who you love,” he finished for her. He trailed his thumb from her ear down her jawline. He rubbed it over her bottom lip and watched her eyes flutter closed. “Don’t give up on me yet, Jack.”

She laced her fingers with his again. “Never,” she said.

***

He’d woken the next morning, legs tangled with Jack’s, her face snuggled into the crook of his shoulder. Her warm breath on his skin was like an elixir, seeping into his pores and clouding his vision. They’d both slept in their clothes, which were twisted and bunched around them. Bits of flesh connecting here and there with little pops of electricity. The soft fabric hadn’t stopped him from feeling every curve of her body, every spike in her pulse as he kissed her over and over until they fell asleep, his lips still pressed against her neck where her pulse beat slow and steady.

He’d kissed her again as he slipped his arm out from under her simply because he could. Then again before he left, leaning over the bed with one knee propping him up and his fingers trailing though her hair, just in case she changed her mind by the time he saw her again.

Graham was still fighting himself not to turn around and go back to her when he rode into Hutton’s driveway. The small, white ranch was chock-full of windows. The navy shutters and cobblestone walk gave it a charming, old-fashioned feel. All that was missing from his friend’s version of the American Dream was the white picket fence.

Not seeing Hutton outside, he walked around the side of the house. He poked his head in the kitchen door. As always, it smelled faintly of herbs and cream. He called out, and receiving no answer, let himself in. He pulled two bottles of water from the fridge, tore a chunk from the cinnamon-raisin loaf on the counter, and settled onto the kitchen chair to eat before Hutton appeared in the doorway.

He was in bike shorts, a long-sleeved tee and bare feet. “I’m almost ready,” Hutton said.

“No hurry. I, uh, actually wanted to talk to you about something anyway.” Graham picked at the bread in his hands.

“Shoot.”

“I know I’m not supposed to do this, but we need to talk about Jack,” he said. At Hutton’s annoyed look, he continued, “I went over to her place last night.”

“Do you enjoy being ignored?”

“I needed to see how she was.”

“And?” Hutton asked.

“She seemed okay.” If he concentrated, he could still feel the smooth curve of her back under his hand or hear her ragged breathing as he kissed her. “Better than I expected. I mean, she didn’t kick me out.”

Hutton sat, pulled on his socks and shoes. “Didn’t you wear that shirt yesterday?”

“You ready?” Graham asked in response.

Hutton pushed past him into the garage and hauled his bike from the hooks on the wall. Letting the pedals flip around on their own, he jogged the bike down the driveway.

Graham followed, wishing he’d canceled their ride. Talking to Hutton about Jack never got him any closer to figuring out what to do about her. Why would today be any different? He mounted his bike and nudged it forward until he was eye to eye with his friend.

“I’m only saying this once, then we’re done talking about my sister, got it?” Hutton waited for Graham to nod his agreement. He clicked the strap of his helmet. “I know you care about Jack and I get why you’d be attracted to her. But you can’t let her think it’s possible to be anything more than friends.”

Graham choked the handlebars until his knuckles burned. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want anyone to be happy,” he said under his breath. He pushed off and picked up speed as he cleared the driveway. The air slapped at his cheeks. Pumping hard, he concentrated on the road. The graying asphalt and cracking white lines played monotonously in front of him like a bad movie. He’d ridden these roads most of his life and knew every pothole and curve. He looked at anything but his friend.

Breathing heavily, but steadily, Hutton matched his pace to Graham’s.

They did most of the ride side by side. But with another three weeks before the Twilight, he needed to ramp up the intensity. Graham crouched lower over the handlebars and peddled harder. He took the lead with Hutton falling in line behind him.

When they rounded the corner into Sugar’s main downtown drag, Graham slowed. The shop was a few blocks up. He could just make out the teal awning blowing in the warm breeze. A half-dozen people stood on the sidewalk out front. It was late enough that Jack might already be at work. His stomach muscles clenched at the thought of seeing her.

It’s not like they hadn’t slept at each other’s houses before, or even in each other’s beds, he reasoned. But he’d gone there last night knowing he wanted to stay. Knowing he wanted her. If she told him he couldn’t have her, he would try to suppress his feelings and move on like nothing happened. But a part of him whispered that he would fail. That he would never be able to get over wanting her.

He turned as Hutton caught up to him, red-faced and short of breath. He loosened his grip on the handlebars and flexed his fingers. “I know you’ve always said Jack’s off limits, but—”

Dark-tinted sunglasses hid Hutton’s eyes, but the clenched jaw told Graham he should have left it alone. “Don’t go there, man. We settled this back in high school, remember?” he said.

“How is this anywhere near the same thing?” he asked. He remembered the first time he’d confessed his feelings for Jack.

He’d gone over to the Paces’ house the day after he kissed her, when he knew she wouldn’t be home. He needed to talk to Hutton without her around. Keep his mind free from distractions. It was hard when the house smelled like her perfume, subtle and sweet. He imagined taking her to dinner or a movie, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to pull her close, and steeping himself in the scent.

He shook his head to clear it, to focus. He found Hutton in the backyard tinkering on his motorcycle.

“Hey, man,” he said. He straddled the picnic bench his friend used as a worktable. It was coarse and splintery. The wrenches had left grease and oil stains on the russet wood.

“Hey. Aren’t you supposed to be working today?”

“On my way. Thought I’d stop by. Talk for a minute about your sister.”

He looked up from the bike, swiped the back of his hand across his cheek, smearing dirt and sweat. “Oh, yeah. Thanks for getting Jaclyn home yesterday. Coach was in a foul mood and kept us doing laps in the freakin’ rain until dark.”

“It was no problem. I, uh, kinda enjoyed it,” Graham said.

“You enjoy carting my sister around? Awesome. She’s yours.”

“Hutt, I’m serious. I like Jaclyn.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. Staring at the ground, he added, “A lot.”

“What exactly do you mean by ‘like’? ’Cause if you mean what I think you mean, we’re going to have some serious issues.”

“Just hear me out. I’ve liked her for a long time. And I didn’t do anything for years because I was worried it was just some dumb crush and I didn’t want to hurt her. But all I wanna do is be with her and make her happy.”

Hutton dropped his tools into the dirt and pushed up from the ground. He wiped his hands on his grease-stained tee. The dark spots were overtaking the white so that before long nothing of the original design would be recognizable.

Not wanting to provoke his friend, Graham stayed seated. He ran his fingers along a split in the wood. It pried up easily. The thin piece cracked and pulled off, leaving a jagged edge on the seat.

“What the hell are you talking about? What did you do with my sister?”

“I kissed her. That’s it. But I’m gonna ask her out and wanted you to know before I do. I figured I owe you that much.”

“You are sadly mistaken if you think you’re dating Jack. I don’t give a damn what you think you feel for her. You’ve known her long enough to know she’s not the one for you. I know you’ve said it’s all bullshit, but if it’s not and the girl you’re supposed to be with is out there somewhere, you’re not gonna use my sister as a placeholder. To hell if I’ll let you break her heart when you leave her.” Hutton swung out and caught him on the chin, knocking him off the bench.

Graham landed hard on his left shoulder. His head bounced off the dirt. Disoriented and nauseated, it took him a moment to realize that a scabby, dime-sized stick protruded from his back. When he reached for it, moss and bark flaked off in his hand. The wound throbbed as he extracted it. It came out slowly and covered in sticky blood.

He flicked it to the ground at his friend’s feet.

They both watched as the blood trickled down, making dark pools in the dirt.

“I won’t hurt her,” Graham said. He stood and straightened so he looked down on Hutton.

“You won’t get the chance to. It’s me or her, man. Your choice.”

Graham let go of the bike handle and rubbed at his side. He fingered the bullet-shaped scar just below his kidney where the stick had penetrated years before. A small reminder of the choice he’d made.

But, he realized, if they were back in the same situation now after more than a decade, what’s to say they wouldn’t be back here in another fifteen years if he gave in to Hutton again? It was looking more and more like Jack was the Pace he couldn’t live without. If Hutton made him choose this time, he knew, without a doubt, their friendship would be over.

“I gave in because I was scared of hurting her. But I never understood what you thought was so wrong with the two of us being together,” Graham said.

Hutton pulled up short at the Stop sign. He looked over Graham’s shoulder at the shop. Shaking his head, he said, “You were leaving, Graham. I saw the way she looked at you. How she was always finding some way to be near you, to talk to you. She couldn’t have handled you leaving.”

“You never give her enough credit. We could’ve made it work.”

“You would’ve tried, but we all know she wasn’t the one for you. I didn’t want to see her get hurt when you found the girl who was. And I didn’t want to hate you for being the asshole that broke her heart.”

“What about now, Hutt? I’m not going anywhere and I don’t want any other girl, but you’re still dead-set against it?”

“Your dad wasn’t going anywhere either,” Hutton said. “Until the day he did.”

Words screamed in Graham’s head. Years of frustration and resentment he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge. His chest burned from the pressure of holding it all in. Hutton might not be afraid to fight dirty, but Graham refused to.

Instead he said, “Like father, like son, I guess.”

Hutton’s voice barely registered. Graham wasn’t sure if he’d apologized or tried to backtrack. And at the moment he didn’t care. Instead of going straight to finish the last seven miles of the ride, he turned left to circle back into town. He knew, without looking, that Hutton hadn’t followed.