Page 27 of One Small Spark (Love in Sunshine #4)

NINETEEN

WREN

“I need the plate of fries to be as big as my face.” I pass Delish’s menu to Amy Ellison. It was only ever a formality. “Bring me all the potatoes you have.”

Drowning myself in salty carbs seems appropriate.

Amy marks my order on her notepad. “Burger with cheese and avocado and a whole mess of fries. Need dessert tonight?”

“Probably not.” I should show some restraint. Goodness knows, I don’t have much of it in the rest of my life.

“Are you going to kiss me or what?” Pathetic. Proven by the fact that he went with “or what.”

“Jodi made dulce de leche cheesecake,” Amy adds.

“I’ll take a slice of that, too, please.” I long ago decided calories only count if I’m the one who prepared them. I will gladly eat treats made by someone else.

She makes another mark. “Everything okay, honey?”

Amy owns and runs Delish with her wife, Jodi.

Beyond serving the best food in town, they’re generous with listening ears and impartial advice.

They’re close with my mom, and from all the times we’ve blabbed to them, they’ve become unofficial aunts for me and Hope.

Since they’re Ian’s actual aunts, we’re practically in-laws.

They’re awesome. But I can only handle spilling my guts to one person tonight.

I gesture at Hope, who’s sitting across from me and already ordered a more reasonably sized platter of fries. “I’m here for therapy.”

Amy nods. “Holler if you need anything else.”

“I will.” She walks away, and I shift my attention to my best friend. “So.”

Hope waits, eyes wide. “So?”

I asked her to come out with me tonight alone.

I was very specific about the last word.

I’m not ready for Tess and Lila to know all my sordid secrets, and there’s no way I could say anything in front of Griffin.

But I didn’t give her much to go on—just asked for an emergency girls’ night as soon as she closed up her shop.

She delivered on her part. She’s here, ready and willing. Now, I just have to follow through on mine.

Easier said than done. Well, in this case, the saying is actually the hard part. Easier done than said.

I’m terrible at mushy stuff. I’m meant to push my feelings down until they’re a hard lump of coal in the pit of my stomach. I don’t whip them out and pass them around like a baby at a family reunion. But if I keep swinging between anger and confusion, I’m going to do something stupid.

Stupid er .

I barely functioned today at work. My eyes were so glued to the bakery’s front door, you’d think I was eagerly waiting for an online order to arrive. Every time someone passed the windows, I glanced up, hoping .

It’s that hope I’m not sure what to do with.

I suck in a deep breath. “There have been some…changes…on the Callahan front. ”

Hope smiles. My stomach twists. This was a mistake.

I can just carry on like I’ve been doing, without any clarity from my friend.

Sure, I’m pretty much flailing wildly in the dark, like I’ve been shoved into a wet paper bag and am trying to punch my way to safety.

Half the time, I’m pretty sure I’m only hurting myself.

But I’ve become really good at swinging those punches.

Hope doesn’t move, but I can practically see her questions bubbling to the surface behind her eyes. “Changes such as…?”

I do a quick scan of the diner. There’s nobody in here that I’m worried about, but it never hurts to double check in a town like Sunshine. Then again, six nosy women already have their fingers in my personal life like raccoons with a tub of peanut butter. Why not broadcast it to the whole diner?

I clasp my hands on the shiny tabletop. “We might not be as nemesis-y as we used to be.”

The slo-mo excited face Hope makes is exactly why I wanted to meet somewhere public. Yes, I needed a massive intake of fries, but with a crowd, she won’t be able to squeal and jump up and down and whatever else she might do in these kinds of situations.

It’s weird that I haven’t had many of these situations, isn’t it? I’ve dated, of course, but I’ve never really cared that much before now. And even that feels like a lot to admit. Caring? What’s that?

“Specifically, what changed?” She drops her voice for the delicate conversation.

“Specifically, everything.”

“Please give me more information.”

And I do. I spill all the details about what’s happened between Callahan and me from the moment I first walked into book group and saw him surrounded by all those cardigan-wearing grandmas.

I tiptoe around his anxiety and panic attack, but I lay out everything else.

The kiss. His cabin. His confusing restraint last night. All of it.

By the time I catch up to today, we’re halfway through our burgers.

“Why wouldn’t he kiss me again?” That’s the question that kept me up half the night. Was it me? My breath? Is he a massive control freak who masks it with indifference? What?

His refusal to kiss me could be more proof this is all mind games to him. A way to get me to look dumb and weak. It’s worked pretty well so far, too. First I mauled him in the alley, and then I begged him to kiss me last night. So embarrassing.

That doesn’t really track with everything I’ve learned about Callahan these last couple of weeks. But if it’s not mind games, his rejection leaves me even more confused.

I slump my chin in my hand, toying with a fry. “If he’s just trying to work past this tension between us or something, shouldn’t he go for it?”

Ahem. Like I did.

“Is that what you think is happening?”

Hope’s being all sweet and gentle with me, like she’s talking to August. That’s how much of a mess I am. She has to pull out the little kid voice.

“You think this is just a one-time thing?” she asks when I don’t answer right away.

“It will never be out of my system.” If I hadn’t been so drunk on his everything , I might have processed that little declaration more last night. In the stark light of day, the words are like a grenade, blowing my excuses to rubble.

But then I come back to the same question: why not kiss me?

“Is that what you think is happening?” I toss back. Yes, I’ve reverted to begging again already. Please, I have no answers .

Hope lifts a delicate brown eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to know what I think?”

Probably not. She’s swung hints and insinuations about Callahan my way for literal years. I’ve ducked and dodged every last one, pretending they’ve never touched me even when they dug right under my skin. Pretty sure this time, she’s aiming for the bullseye over my confused little heart.

I brace myself against the booth. “Hit me with it.”

“I think you’ve liked each other for a long time. Mutually .” She puts special emphasis on the word along with an arch look.

I snort, even as my traitorous brain pictures that little bird on his arm.

“Yes, you had reasons to dislike him that you now know are wrong…but he’s basically your ideal man. Think about the guys you’ve dated that went nowhere. What were they like?”

“Not the best. My college boyfriend was too clingy and had no ambition for his life. The next guy was so emotional, I never knew which version of him to expect.” I think back. “I guess the last guy I dated was just kind of bland.”

And that brings us up to three years ago. Roughly the time a certain Shepherd Callahan started remodeling the store next door to the bakery.

Hope points a fry at me. “Exactly. Shepherd’s their exact opposite.”

“No, he’s…” But I’ve got nothing else. She’s right.

“Shepherd is independent and does his own thing, just like you. He’s a dedicated business owner, so same. You live for his visits to the bakery because you like how he challenges you. He’s funny, too, when you’re not going at each other’s throats.”

It’s wrong to think about how he dragged his nose along my neck last night. So. Very. Wrong. But oh, I need a repeat of that move.

She levels me with a serious look. “And we can’t ignore that you’ve been thinking about how handsome he is since he opened up his shop.”

“Handsome.” I stick out my tongue as if the description is all wrong.

It is all wrong. Sexy. Devastating. Makes my stomach swoop and my toes curl from twenty feet away. Those fit Callahan better.

“Now, something’s shifted between you two,” Hope goes on. “It’s delicate, and you’re both trying to sort it out. Maybe he wants to make sure this fragile thing between you isn’t going to immediately shift back. You have to admit, you’ve been giving him crap for the last two years.”

The truth of this makes me squirm. “Your successful relationship has really turned you into a guru.”

“I’m speculating, obviously. But what guy wouldn’t want to make sure his feelings are reciprocated?”

“You think he has feelings for me?” Man, I sound so pathetic. Begging my friend to tell me if a guy likes me. Check yes or no. But also, I really need an outside source to confirm.

“If the tattoo you described on his arm is any indication?—”

I shush her. I should have kept that information to myself. “We don’t know for sure what it is.”

It could be anything. A goldfinch. A sparrow. A thrush. For all I know, it’s a totally random bird. On his tattoo sleeve dedicated to people he cares about. That he wants me to name because…he’s a creepy dude with low-key control issues? Something.

The dubious smile she gives me quiets my internal denials. “Fine. We’ll ignore the tattoo for now. The real question is, do you have feelings for him?”

I take a huge bite out of my burger. Hope laughs at my obvious stalling tactic but waits patiently while I chew. My thoughts aren’t any clearer once I swallow the bite down .

These last couple of weeks have been emotional chaos, one new thing about Callahan flying at me after another. But each new thing has been surprisingly great. I like and admire him more than ever. Every interaction with him makes me want another.

That’s always been true, even when I thought it was spite drawing me to him.

“I might have things going on in the heart area.” I sound like exactly as big of an idiot as I feel. “For Callahan.”

Hope grins wide. “Did that hurt to say?”

“A little.”

“Does he know you have heart things going on?”

“Like I can tell him that.” I’m not sure I fully realized it until right this moment. How was I supposed to barf all that on him before I knew it myself?

“You could try.”

“I knew telling you would be a problem. You’re in love, and Griffin loves you back.

You think that’s the answer to everything.

” I bite a ketchup-covered fry, looking around at the diner patrons.

“Where are all the bitter and jaded people when I need them? Someone come give me cynical advice about my love life.”

I shiver. I can’t believe I’m claiming spending time with Callahan as a love life . Or how right it feels to call it that.

“I’m not saying you have to tell him everything. But maybe you could try telling him something .”

It’s a reasonable suggestion. Anyone not already hardened to being vulnerable with their feelings would do it. But actually trying it is more terrifying than swimming in the ocean and seeing a shark fin.

“Being soft and vulnerable gets your heart broken.” Ask me how I know. “It’s much better to be cool and aloof and full of snarky sayings. ”

She reaches out to take my hand on the tabletop. My heart squeezes at that sweet gesture. I’m tempted to call it a night, lay twenty bucks on the table, and scram. This evening is all kinds of too much, and I’ve reached my limit.

Hope is undeterred. She holds on like she knows I’m considering an escape. “But sometimes, being soft and vulnerable gets your heart cared for, too.”

“So sappy.” I refuse to admit how much I want that. “You’re the worst.”

She grins at me, reveling in my faux outrage. “I know. What are you going to do?”

I shrug. “Freak out, I guess.”

And maybe drive into the woods.