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I managed a weak smile. "No promises."

As James headed back to the kitchen, I looked down at my phone again. Two messages, two very different men, two potential paths forward.

I typed a quick response to Alex.

Thanks for the offer. I'm actually pretty busy this week, but I'll let you know if that changes.

It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no either. It was a maybe—a lifeline I could grab if tonight went as badly as part of me expected it to.

Then I opened Matt's text with the address, staring at it for a long moment before finally typing:

See you at 6.

Three little words that felt like signing my own emotional death warrant. But I'd made my choice, for better or worse. Now I just had to live with it.

I pocketed my phone and stood up, gathering my barely-touched lunch. Whatever happened tonight, at least I'd get some answers. And maybe, just maybe, I'd finally figure out if Matt was worth all this emotional turmoil, or if I was just setting myself up for an even bigger fall.

Either way, I had a feeling this dinner was going to be a turning point. I just wasn't sure which direction it would turn me in.

Chapter 8

Geri

Iarrived at Matt's parents house at exactly 6 PM, clutching a bouquet of flowers I'd picked up from the grocery store on my way over. My stomach was in knots, a mixture of anticipation and dread churning inside me as I sat in my car, staring at the modest home before me.

It was a housing commission style place, small but well-maintained, with a neatly trimmed lawn and freshly painted exterior. I hadn't known what to expect of Matt's family home, but this wasn't it. I'd pictured something different—though I couldn't have said exactly what. Maybe something that matched the intensity of the man himself.

Taking a deep breath, I climbed out of my car and made my way up the small concrete steps to the front door. Before I could even knock, it swung open, revealing a petite woman with bleached blonde hair and striking eyes—eyes that I immediately recognized as the same as Matt's.

"You must be Geri," she said warmly, her smile genuine and welcoming. "Please come in."

I stepped inside, immediately enveloped by the comforting aroma of home cooking. The house was small but immaculate, with family photos lining the narrow hallway.

"Matt!" she called down the hall. "Geri is here!"

I handed her the flowers, feeling suddenly shy. "These are for you, Mrs.—"

"Oh, call me Linda," she interrupted, beaming at me as she accepted the bouquet. "I love you already, coming with flowers. Take a seat, honey. You want a beer?"

"Sure," I replied, grateful for anything that might take the edge off my nerves. I was anxious as hell, my mind still racing with questions about Matt's three-day disappearance and what this dinner invitation really meant.

Before I could dwell on it further, Matt emerged from what I assumed was his bedroom. He was wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, his tattooed chest on full display as he casually pulled a t-shirt over his head. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him—it was unfair how good he looked, how easily he could make me forget all my reservations with just his presence.

He dropped a kiss on his mother's head as he passed her, then made his way to me, pressing his lips to mine as if three days of radio silence was the most normal thing in the world. My heart fluttered traitorously, even as my brain screamed at me to demand an explanation.

"Come sit," he said, gesturing toward the small dining table. "Dinner's nearly ready. Mom's making her famous pot roast."

I followed him to the table, hyperaware of his hand on the small of my back, guiding me. The casual intimacy of it made my skin tingle, even as I tried to maintain some emotional distance. Just as we sat down, an older man entered the room, his face lighting up when he saw me.

"You must be Geri," he said, extending his hand. "Hi, girl. I'm George."

Linda handed him a beer as he joined us at the table, and soon we were all engaged in conversation. They asked about my work, how long I'd lived in the area. I explained that I wasoriginally from a small town called Riverdale but had moved to Seabreeze when I was fourteen and had been there ever since.

Throughout the meal, I found myself relaxing despite my earlier reservations. Linda and George were warm and unpretentious, treating me like I was already part of the family. The pot roast was delicious, the conversation easy, and for a while, I almost forgot about the emotional turmoil of the past few days.

Almost.

Because every time Matt smiled at me across the table, every time his hand casually brushed mine as he passed the salt, I felt that familiar pull toward him warring with the hurt and confusion of his disappearance. How could someone who seemed so genuine, whose family was so welcoming, be so inconsiderate of my feelings?