Page 27 of Held-

“I'm not scared?—”

“Then why are you sitting there pretending you don't know who you are?” He glances at me briefly. “You want to know what I see when I look at you?”

My heart does something complicated in my chest. “What?”

“Fire. You've got this fire burning underneath all that politeness and propriety. It's what made you divorce your cheating husband when half the women in this town would have just looked the other way. It's what made you stand up to your ex-father-in-law. And it's what made you get on the back of my bike even though every rational part of your brain was screaming at you to run the opposite direction.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple. You just make it complicated.” He takes the exit for the warehouse club, the van's turn signal clicking rhythmically. “When's the last time you did something just because you wanted to, without worrying about what everyone else would think?”

I start to open my mouth, but I snap it shut when I realize I don't have a good answer. Even sitting here with him, helping with the food boxes, I'm telling myself it's for charity, for the families. But the truth is, I wanted to see him again. I wantedto feel that spark of something real in a life that's felt like performance art for too long.

“Getting on your bike,” I admit.

“How'd that feel?”

Like flying. Like drowning. Like coming alive for the first time in years.

“Terrifying,” I say instead, because it's safer than the truth.

“Good terrifying or bad terrifying?”

I consider this as we pull into the massive parking lot of the warehouse store. Good terrifying, definitely. The kind that makes your blood sing and your skin tingle with anticipation. The kind that makes you wonder what other parts of yourself you've been keeping locked away.

“Good.”

He parks in a spot near the back of the lot, away from the clusters of minivans and SUVs closer to the entrance.

“Good,” he repeats. “Because I've been thinking about that ride a lot.”

My breath catches. “Have you?”

“Yeah.” He turns to face me, one arm draped over the back of his seat. “Been thinking about a lot of things, actually.”

The space between us in the van's cab suddenly feels both too wide and not nearly wide enough. I'm hyperaware of everything— the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears, the fact that we're sitting in a church van having a conversation that feels anything but appropriate.

“Brayden—”

“We should go in,” he says abruptly, like he's cutting himself off before he says something he can't take back. “Figure out what we need.”

I nod, though part of me wants to stay right here, suspended in this moment.

CECE

The church vandoor has always made that god-awful screeching sound—an unholy mix of nails on a chalkboard and a dying cat. But today, as I slide it open for the twentieth time, there’s nothing but smooth, blessed silence.

“What kind of black magic did you work on this thing?” I ask, sliding the door back and forth with downright childish delight. “It’s been screaming for as long as I can remember. Sunday School kids used to flinch whenever someone touched it.”

Brayden grins, wiping his hands on a rag he pulled from his back pocket. “Just needed some silicone lubricant. That, and thetrack was bent.” He says it casually, as though he didn’t just fix in thirty minutes what entire generations of church maintenance committees couldn’t manage.

“Well, the youth group will canonize you for this alone,” I say, reaching for another box of canned goods. “You would not believe how many times that squeak exposed kids sneaking out during a lock-in.”

“Speaking from experience, princess?” His eyebrow arches as he lifts two boxes effortlessly.

“I plead the fifth.” I try to keep my face serious, but it's impossible. Something about him makes me want to laugh.

We've been unloading groceries for the better part of an hour, our rhythm so natural it's like we've been doing this for years instead of just a few hours. The warehouse club trip was a success beyond my wildest dreams. Between the little monetary donations we received and Brayden picking up the rest, our families won’t go hungry.