Page 62

“You look suspiciously glowing,” Sam says, narrowing her eyes, and, oh God, here we go.

“It’s the highlighter,” I lie, grabbing a menu even though I already know I’m ordering my usual.

“Highlighter doesn’t make you flinch a little when you sit down.”

I freeze mid-reach for my latte.

Sam leans in, her grin widening. “So… you gonna tell me, or do I have to pry it out of you like a mob boss with a grudge?”

I sigh, dropping the act entirely. “Fine. You win.”

“I always win,” she says smugly. Sam is sweet and kind but she’s also fierce and determined, and I love that about her.

I glance around the café—low hum of conversations, indie acoustic music in the background, the barista with a septum ring trying to tame the espresso machine. It’s safe. I lean in and lower my voice.

“It’s… Eddie.”

Sam’s face lights up like it’s Christmas morning. “I knew it!” she squeals. “Lucas told me last night!”

“Wait—what?” I blink. “Lucas knows?”

She nods, sipping from her cup. “Of course he knows. Eddie tells him everything.”

My stomach flips. “Okay, what exactly did Lucas say?”

Sam shrugs dramatically, her eyes twinkling. “And I quote, ‘Eddie and Laney are a thing now. I’ll kick his ass if he hurts her.’ End quote.”

I blink, processing that. A thing. That could mean anything. Or it could mean everything.

I stir my latte unnecessarily, trying to sound casual. “Did he say anything else?”

“Nope,” she says too quickly, then adds, “Well… he did say Eddie was ‘smiling like the cat that got the cream’ so there’s that. So, did he get the cream?” She waggles her eyebrows and it’s so nice to see her looking a little more carefree than the last few months that I nod.

“Eeeek.” Sam taps her feet on the ground in excitement. “I knew it.”

A soft warmth spreads through my chest. I look down at my cup, hiding the stupid little smile tugging at my lips.

“I really like him, Sam,” I admit quietly.

She softens immediately, her teasing grin giving way to something gentler. “I know, babe. And I really think he likes you too. Like… really, really.”

“I’m scared,” I admit before I can talk myself out of it. “He’s leaving to go on tour in three weeks. Europe. Months. What if this was just a… bubble? A perfect, passionate little moment that doesn’t survive the distance?”

Sam reaches across the table and takes my hand, her thumb stroking over my knuckles in that steady, grounding way onlyyour best friend knows how to do. Meeting Sam and Lucas and getting to know their little boy is the best thing that has happened to me in years, even if I hate the circumstances of it.

“Laney, Eddie would never hurt you. You know that, right? He’s… he’s a good one. One of the real ones. He’s not like that piece of shit, Randy. He never deserved you, never treated you how he should have. Eddie will.”

I nod slowly, but the fear still lingers like a storm cloud on the edge of my sunny little morning. Not doubt in him, not really. Just in life. Timing. The world always seems to spin a little too fast when you want something to stay still.

A pause stretches between us, comfortable but thoughtful. Then Sam clears her throat and leans back.

“Alright,” she says, her voice lighter. “Enough about your sexy country star boyfriend who apparently makes you glow like a damn firefly. Can we talk about how Joey keeps trying to flush his socks down the toilet again?”

I laugh, the tension breaking like glass. “Oh no. Not the sock phase again.”

“Oh yes.” She groans. “I swear, he’s determined to give our plumbing an aneurysm.”

“How’s he doing?” I ask more softly now. “Really.”