Page 14 of Rewind It Back (Windy City #5)

Hallie

“Look at you!” I whistle as Wren joins me in the kitchen, cute outfit on, hair and makeup done. It’s a stark contrast from the too-busy student I typically find in the house. “Going on a hot date tonight?”

“Gross. No, I’m meeting up with my brother. His team is in town to play against the Devils tomorrow, so we’re grabbing dinner with one of his teammates tonight.”

She eyes the bowl in my hands. “I made pasta last night, you know. You’re welcome to eat the leftovers.”

Sitting at the kitchen island, I hold my bowl of cereal up, spoon and all. “I’m good.”

“Hallie, you ran out of milk yesterday and you’re eating that dry. Not to mention, it’s dinnertime. Please eat some of my food so I don’t have to watch you try to swallow down that dry-ass cereal.”

I do just that, attempting to swallow a sawdust-like bite. “I just need to run to the store for groceries.”

Once I can pay to have my car fixed , I remind myself.

She slips her phone into her purse. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re stubborn, Hallie Hart?”

“I prefer the term ‘determined.’”

I’ve gotten through so much worse over the last few years, all on my own, that this financial rough patch seems like nothing in comparison.

Wren huffs a laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure you do prefer the term ‘determined,’ but those leftovers are going to go to waste, so please eat them. You’re my friend. What’s mine is yours.”

The idea of warm, buttery pasta has my mouth watering, which is kind of needed because she wasn’t wrong about this cereal being dry as hell. Plus, Wren’s help feels less pitying than the financial handout Rio offered last night.

She leans her elbows on the kitchen island, facing me. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks. How are you? How’s Rio’s house project going?”

“It’s going. I’m working on the overall design concepts, so once those are approved, construction will begin.”

“Can I just say that I cannot believe you two have so much history? The stay-at-home moms who live on our street would go nuts with that kind of information. They all love Rio.”

I roll my eyes, muttering, “Yeah. I bet they do.”

“Jealous,” she teases.

“Not jealous in the slightest. We’re... friends .”

She bursts out a laugh. “You think you can be friends with that man? I woke up in the middle of the night to get water and caught him dropping you off. I saw the way he was looking at you. Friends, my ass.”

I refocus on my cereal. “Well, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She hums knowingly.

“What about you, Wilder?” I ask, pivoting. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nah.” She waves me off. “No point when I’m moving soon.”

“Have you ever dated while living in Chicago?”

“A few dates here and there. A short-term situationship last year, but I don’t think I ever let myself get invested in anyone because I always knew I’d be moving home eventually.”

“And back home, is there anyone there?”

A tick of a smile begins to lift on her mouth, but she brings her water bottle up to her lips to hide it.

“There is!”

“No. No, it’s not like that. I’m just looking forward to getting back home. Cruz got traded to our local NBA team this year, but so did his childhood best friend. So, yeah, I’m looking forward to going home.”

Wren doesn’t make eye contact with me as she says it, but I still see that little sparkle when she brings up Cruz’s friend.

“And this new teammate of his... is this the same teammate that’s going to dinner with you tonight?”

She shoots me a look. “If you want to keep talking about my brother’s best friend, I’m going to keep pressing you about our neighbor.”

“So that’s a yes. No wonder you look so good. Does Cruz know you have a thing for his friend?”

“It’s not like that. We haven’t seen each other in a long time with him playing on a different team than Cruz and my going away to school. We hardly know each other as adults.”

“Hmm,” I hum. “Interesting.”

“Nothing is interesting. Forget I said anything. I’m going to be late.” She moves frantically, grabbing her purse and car keys. “I’ll see you after dinner!”

She’s out the front door before I can ask any more pressing questions.

My rumbling stomach has me quick to find the leftover pasta in the fridge, and once it’s warmed from the microwave, I make myself comfortable on the couch with a blanket over my legs and my dinner in my lap.

My phone rings as soon as I take my first bite.

The overwhelming hunger disappears when my stomach pitches, watching my dad’s name scroll along the top of my phone screen.

It’s that typical spike of anxiety I get whenever I see him calling. Every worst-case scenario runs through my head in an instant. I’m so used to getting bad news when it comes to him that it’s my nature now to assume the worst.

I’m sure that would seem overdramatic to someone else, but to me, the person who’s taken care of him for the past six years, who has been with him on his worst days, it’s my way to mentally prepare myself. I’ve been caught off guard too many times, that I’ve learned to brace myself anytime I see him, Luke, or the doctors calling me.

“What’s wrong?” is the first thing I ask when I answer the phone.

“Can’t a father call to say hello to his favorite daughter?”

I exhale an audible breath, my shoulders dropping from where they’re hiked up to my ears, and the anxiety begins to settle.

“Hi, Dad.” I close my eyes in relief, bringing myself back to center. “What are you up to?”

“Eating dinner.”

“Same here. Do you want to eat together?”

“I’d love to.”

I pull the phone from my ear and video call him instead. As soon as his face overtakes the screen, I take the opportunity to assess him.

His coloring looks good. His face seems far more filled out than I’ve seen it in the past. Overall, he looks... healthy .

He’s currently smiling at me so big that I can’t help but smile back.

“What are you having tonight?” I ask as I prop my phone on the coffee table, using my water bottle to keep it standing.

He’s sitting in his well-loved leather recliner. “Grilled chicken and green beans.” Bringing the phone closer to his face, he checks out the Tupperware I’ve got in my lap. “But I want whatever you’re having.”

“Buttered noodles covered in parmesan.”

He audibly groans, throwing his head back.

I chuckle. “Did Sarah cook tonight?”

My dad looks around the room then keeps his voice quiet. “Oh yeah, she did. Love the girl, but I swear, if she keeps refusing to salt my food, I’m going to have to bribe my grandson to do it.”

Sarah is Luke’s wife. She’s sweet, a great mom to my nephew, and a wonderful partner for my brother. She’s also a big reason why Luke offered to move back to Minnesota and take over care for my dad last year.

A few years after my dad’s diagnosis, I begged for Luke’s help. At the time, he refused, wanting to focus his time and finances on his new family.

As alone as it made me feel, I understood. He had a new wife, they were expecting their first child, and he had moved on. Whenever we got bad news about my dad, it affected him differently. He had his own family and support system to lean on emotionally when he needed it.

Envy had started to bloom, wishing I could have the same. I had grown borderline resentful towards him until Sarah called me about a year ago and told me she convinced Luke to move back to Minnesota to help. She wanted her son to know his grandpa and she wanted me to have the opportunity to chase my own dreams and live my own life.

That’s why, after all this time, I’m in a city where I want to live, pursuing a career I want to have. They moved back to our home state and bought a place with an in-law suite for my dad. I wouldn’t have the chance to do what I want to do right now if it weren’t for Sarah and Luke stepping up.

“How have you been feeling?” I ask.

“Good. Really good. Don’t worry about me, honey. That’s not your job anymore.”

“It’s always going to be my job, Dad.”

He smiles softly and I can see the apology in it. “And how are you doing, Hallie girl?”

I simply nod. Because telling him that “I’m surviving but not thriving” would only cause him to worry.

“How’s the design firm? Is that fancy designer paying you enough?”

I chuckle, not giving him the full truth. “Yes, Dad. He pays well.”

My family doesn’t know that I have a second job. They believe I moved in with Wren simply because we hit it off this summer and not because she also offered me cheap rent. They have no idea how tight money is or that my car is currently out of commission. I don’t like lying to them, but if they knew the truth, they’d ask why I’m struggling if Tyler Braden Interiors pays well, and there’s no chance I’m giving them any details about my debt.

My dad and I continue to catch up while we eat together over video chat. It’s exactly how I’d want to spend my Saturday night off work. Yes, I’m grateful that I have this opportunity to live my own life, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss him. I was right by his side, every day for the past six years.

It’s why I can’t see myself moving farther than Chicago. Even though I’m away from him, at least it’s a drivable distance.

I’m mid-bite when a text drops onto my screen.

Rio: Any chance you’re home and I can bribe you to come over?

“What’s that face for?” my dad asks.

I shake my head, fixing my expression. “Just got a text that took me by surprise.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Yes,” I draw out. “It was Rio.”

“How’s it going with him?”

“I don’t know. We’re trying to be friends.”

“That’s good to hear. You know, I never understood why you two had such a falling-out.”

“Dad.” My tone is flat because he knows as well as I do why we had a “falling-out.” “You, of all people, know how hard those years were. He chose not to be around.”

“Hallie, he didn’t know.”

That truth hangs heavy in the air when I don’t have an argument to return.

It’s silent for a beat before my dad continues. “I know I don’t understand all the details of your relationship, since most of it was kept secret from us, but some big, heavy things were happening in your lives at the time. Things that you shouldn’t have had to navigate at nineteen years old. I hate to think that other people’s decisions are the reason you two lost contact.”

“It wasn’t only because of other people. It was because of us too.”

“Well, you might not want to hear this, but I’ve always liked Rio and I’m glad you two found your way back to each other, even if it is just as friends.”

Another text drops onto the screen, quickly followed by more.

Rio: I’m trying to pick up my game and thought that was better than, “Hey.” Open to any suggestions that’ll earn me a response.

Rio: Maybe you’re working tonight in which case, feel free to ignore me.

Rio: Actually, don’t ignore me. I’m too needy for that.

Rio: If I’m coming off desperate for you to text me back, that’s because I am.

“And she’s holding back a smile, people,” my dad announces.

I roll my eyes. “I gotta go.”

“Tell Rio I said hello. Love you, Hallie girl.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

Exiting the phone call, I find my text messages.

Me: What kind of bribe are we talking about here?

Rio: Offering bribes will get a pretty girl to text me back. Noted.

Me: Stop flirting and tell me what you’re offering, DeLuca.

Rio: Homemade lattes delivered to your doorstep for an entire week if you come over and help me babysit tonight.

Me: You’re babysitting? As in you’re the adult in the situation?

Rio: Right? Four kids, Hal. This seems dangerous. I need you.

I don’t let myself overthink that last sentence too much or recall all the intimate moments in which he had said that to me before.

Rio: Please get over here. You have way more babysitting experience than me.

Though my instincts are screaming at me to tell him to fend for himself, I can’t.

I don’t want to.

Me: Make it a month of latte deliveries and you’ve got yourself a deal.

Rio: Done. Front door is unlocked. Let yourself in.

Yes, I know this is a bad idea. I shouldn’t want anything to do with him, yet for some reason I’m quick to stand from the couch and bolt out the front door before I can come to my senses, before I can overthink the fact that this is going to be our first time spending any real time together outside the parameters of work.

But as soon as I’m outside, I’m stopped in my tracks, frozen on the front porch, because parked right there on the street is a car.

My car.

I didn’t deal with my car today because, frankly, I didn’t know what I was going to do. I wanted a day to relax after a busy work week and pretend I didn’t have responsibilities that needed to be taken care of. I had planned to figure it out tomorrow.

How the hell did someone get into it? I have the one and only key on my key ring.

I pull out my keys to confirm, only to find the ring sans the one for my car. And that’s when I realize. Rio stole my car key while I was sleeping in his truck last night, didn’t he?

Relieved is the initial reaction, but that’s quickly followed by embarrassment because this situation only acts as a reminder that Rio has enough money to throw at any problem that may come up while I’m struggling to buy groceries.

Don’t get me wrong, if this were anyone else, without all our history, I’d happily let them help. But with Rio, it just feels sad. Like he left and I couldn’t make it on my own, so he wants to help now because he feels bad.

Crossing the lawn, I rehearse exactly what I’m going to say, but as soon as I open his front door, that speech gets thrown out the window.

I’m greeted with a wail of a cry in conjunction with a squeal of laughter and the distinct sound of something running over the texture of a wall. Back and forth. Back and forth.

“It’s okay, Navy,” I hear Rio coo. “We won’t watch that.”

“Wow! I like that!” I hear a little boy yell in excitement. “Can I use that color?”

I cautiously step into the living room.

Rio is bouncing a little girl in his arms as she continues to cry onto his shoulder, but on the couch, a boy who seems to be around the same age is peacefully passed out asleep. I glance to the corner of the room, then down to the ground to find two more little ones, a girl with curly hair and a boy with bright blue eyes, excitedly coloring all over the plain white wall with crayons.

“What’s going on?”

Rio spins in my direction and as soon as his eyes meet mine, they close with relief. “Thank God you’re here. It was fine. We were doing good, but then Max started a movie, and it was too scary for Navy, so now she’s crying, and then those two wanted to color but I didn’t have any paper, so I figured you’re about to repaint the walls anyway, right? So why not use those as a canvas? And somehow, Iverson has been passed out asleep through it all. Bless him.”

I nod slowly. “I’m sure their parents are going to love that they learned to color on walls at your house.”

“I’m the fun uncle, Hal. They knew what they were signing up for when they dropped them off here.”

I chuckle and the little girl in his arms—Navy, I believe is her name—stops crying long enough to ask, “Who’s that?”

“That’s my friend, Hallie,” Rio says.

I smile at her. “Hi. What’s your name?”

The other girl, with the curly hair and hazel eyes, cuts in. “That’s Navy. She’s my cousin.”

“Ahh. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Navy.” I shift my attention back. “And what’s your name?”

“I’m Taylor. Baby Iverson is my cousin too. Max isn’t my cousin, though. He’s my best friend. I like your clothes. Do you live in this house too?”

I hold back my laughter. “It’s not my house, but I do live next door.”

“Taylor is Zee and Stevie’s daughter,” Rio explains. “She got her dad’s outgoing personality, in case you couldn’t tell.” He sets Navy on the couch. “Hallie is going to hang out with us tonight. Is that okay?”

The two older ones, Taylor and Max, nod, but Navy just sits there on the couch until, finally, she gives me a little smile.

“How about instead of coloring, we try a movie again,” I suggest. “Do you like popcorn? I bet Uncle Rio has popcorn.”

“ Spider-Man !” Max shouts.

Navy starts crying again.

“Wow,” Rio exhales. “Navy girl, you really are your mother’s daughter. Max, no Spider-Man . It already scared her once.”

“Ariel!” Taylor supplies as she and Max join the other two on the couch.

“Absolutely not, Tay.” Rio’s brows are pinched. “Spoiler alert, but she gives up her voice because she thought some random dude was hot. We’re strong independent women here. The only princess movies we’re going to watch are the ones where they realize they don’t need a man.”

This time I can’t contain my laughter, which has Rio looking in my direction with a smile.

“ Moana ?” Max offers.

The girls don’t disagree.

“ Moana it is!” Rio is quick to find it on his television, getting the kids covered in blankets, and turning the lights off as the opening scene comes on. “We’re going to go make popcorn. Please, for the love of God, be good.”

He slips his hand into mine and pulls me into the kitchen. It feels natural to hold his hand again, but it shouldn’t after it’s been so long, so when we make it to the kitchen, I gently pull mine away.

Rio slips into the pantry and comes out with two bags of popcorn. I meet him in front of the microwave.

“My car is parked outside.”

“Is it?” He doesn’t look in my direction, unwrapping the popcorn bag.

“Rio, you can’t—”

“I didn’t pay for it, if that’s what you’re about to say. Frank, my mechanic, he’s a big hockey fan. I told him the situation and gave him tickets for his whole family to our next home game in exchange for getting your car up and running. He left the key in your mailbox.”

That makes me pause.

“But it’s only a short-term fix. He said he doesn’t think it has many miles left. You may want to look into getting something else soon.”

I already knew that, so the confirmation doesn’t take me by surprise or riddle me with panic. It’s a shit situation, but it is what it is. I knew when I sold my car a few years ago for some quick cash and started driving my dad’s old car instead, it would only be a matter of time before I had to replace it.

“Thank you,” I say genuinely. “I didn’t know what I was going to do, so thank you.”

He looks up at me, his eyes and smile equally soft. “Anything for you, Hal.”

I nod towards the kids. “So, how’d you end up watching four kids on a Saturday night?”

He explains who belongs to who from his friend group and how their moms are the same women I met at his house. He tells me about the reservation they had tonight and how their regular babysitter fell through.

“They didn’t invite you to join?” I ask.

“They did. They always do. They’re good about including me, but there are certain times, regardless of how much they involve me in their plans, that it’s obvious I’m the odd one out.”

“Do they give you a hard time about that?”

“No,” he quickly answers with a shake of his head. “No, of course not. It’s a me thing. Sometimes I just get tired of being the single friend. I don’t need to join them on their romantic date night.”

A spark of interest ignites, though I shouldn’t care that he just admitted to me that he was single.

“So...” I attempt to keep my tone uninterested, disengaged, casual. “Have you been dating at all?”

And apparently, I’m a masochist because I’m asking him to hurt me by telling me all about the women who came after me.

Rio looks at me out of the corner of his eye as he starts the microwave, lifting a brow and silently calling out my interest. Or maybe he’s asking if I’m positive I want to know the answer. But I can’t exactly back down now without seeming sad and pathetic, the girl he moved on from who hasn’t been able to do the same.

“Innocent question.” I hold my hands up. “We’re friends now, remember? Friends ask those kinds of questions.”

He turns, fully facing me with his arms crossed over his chest, and it’s then I realize how close we’re standing. His knee bumps mine when he shifts his weight, his sock-covered toes slide against the arch of my foot.

“I’ve gone on dates, but I’m not dating anyone in particular,” he explains. “I’ve gone on lots of dates, actually. But nothing long-term. Nothing serious since—”

Me.

Neither of us has to finish his sentence to know that’s what he was about to say.

There’s a heavy beat of silence that sits between us at the realization.

“Hallie, I’m not going to lie to you. I’ve spent most of the last six years trying to prove to myself that it exists. Love or soulmates or whatever it is that I used to believe in. But after watching everything go down between my parents and then”—he looks at me—“what happened with us...”

His green eyes search my face, hoping to make me understand. Sure, he may have been on a mission to prove to himself all these years that real love exists, but I’ve been doing the opposite. I haven’t dated. I haven’t even looked, and yes, most of that is due to being busy taking care of my dad, but there’s also a part of me that knew I wouldn’t be able to replicate what we had, so what would be the point in even trying?

“Sorry.” He shakes his head, trying to shake us out of this moment. “I’m not trying to make this heavy.”

“It was real,” I quickly admit. “For me at least. It was real. That’s how I know it exists.”

I watch as the words settle into him. “Yeah,” he breathes. “It was real for me too, Hal.”

We don’t break eye contact, and there are no more spoken words, only the unspoken ones.

He finally clears his throat. “And what about you? What have the last six years looked like for you?”

Well, I sure as hell am not going to admit that I haven’t dated anyone in all these years. Not after his confession.

“Busy,” I say simply.

We both know that’s not what he’s asking, so he takes the more direct route. “Are you seeing anyone right now? What about that guy from my game?”

The microwave beeps, and it feels like the perfect out of this conversation. I remove the bag of popcorn and empty it into a large bowl.

“Hallie?”

“Did you hear that?” I ask. “I think the kids need something.”

I’m halfway out of the kitchen when he says, “I thought this is what friends do? Ask these kinds of questions.”

I don’t slow down.

“Hallie Hart!” he calls at my back.

“Shh.” I hold a finger up to my lips. “There’s a movie on.”

“You’re going to give me high blood pressure, woman. How long are going to make me dwell on that question before you finally give me the answer?”

I shrug, letting him stew over it. If Rio were thinking clearly, he’d realize I don’t have enough time in my schedule to be seeing anyone, but I like how flustered he gets at the prospect that I could be.

I sit in the only empty space left on the couch between Navy and her sleeping brother before giving Taylor the bowl of popcorn. She holds it in her lap as the other two absentmindedly dip their hands in, all three of them keeping their eyes glued to the television.

A moment later, Navy reaches over and takes my hand, holding it with one of hers.

I chuckle to myself, remembering how Indy hugged me immediately when we met. Rio was right. Navy really is her mother’s daughter.

Rio joins a few minutes later, with a second bowl of popcorn for us in one hand, holding out a mug for me in the other.

“It’s the first of a month’s worth of lattes that I owe you. I leave on Monday and will be traveling for most of the month, but I’ll make it up to you when I get back.”

I look down at the blob of foam on top and a grin hitches up on my lips. “Stunning latte art.”

“It was the side profile of an Arctic wolf. Perfect proportions. Then I took a sip and ruined it, but it was flawless before that. Trust me.”

I take my own sip, putting my lips right where I can tell his were. It’s the same latte as the one he made me yesterday. Vanilla and almond milk. “Thank you.”

“You already fell asleep on me once last night. I need to keep you awake to hang out with me this time.”

He rests the bowl of popcorn on my legs before he picks up a sleeping Iverson from the couch next to me, readjusting him to lay on his lap so Rio can take the seat on the couch directly next to me.

There’s enough room on his other side that he could move over a bit, but he doesn’t. He stays close.

His thigh presses against mine. His shoulder is flush with my own.

That is until he lifts his arm and wraps it around the back of the couch where I’m sitting, essentially putting his arm around me .

“Rio—”

“Shh,” he hushes me, eyes glued to the TV. “There’s a movie on.”

“You drive me insane, you know that?”

“Hmm,” he hums. “That makes two of us, love.”

The old term of endearment gives me pause, but it doesn’t affect him one bit. He simply grabs a handful of popcorn and tosses it back, eyes locked on the movie.

It feels good . Comfortable and easy, the way it always used to.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers a few moments later. “I’m sorry for stealing your Saturday night.”

“No, you’re not.”

I peek at him out of the corner of my eye, and his smile turns so proud. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m not sorry at all.”

“Thanks, Hallie,” Indy whispers as she peels a sleeping Iverson out from under Rio’s arm. “We appreciate you helping him.”

“Anytime.” I keep my voice quiet to not wake the hockey player passed out asleep with his head partway on my thigh.

Indy is the last out of the house after everyone picked up their sleeping kids, but she stops at the door, turning back my way. “We’re having family dinner at my house tomorrow night after Ryan’s game and before Rio and Zanders hit the road for most of the month. You should come. Everyone will be there.”

Everyone is referring to Zanders and the girls I’ve already met before, along with her husband, Ryan, and the Rhodes brothers who I met tonight.

I glance down at my lap, making sure Rio is still asleep and not listening in on this conversation. “I’m not sure he would want me going to something like that with all his closest friends but thank you for the invite.”

“I don’t care what he wants,” Indy says with an edge of sass. “It’s my house. I can invite anyone I want to invite.”

I chuckle. “Thank you, but regardless, I have a shift at my second job. I work nights at a bar downtown.”

Indy readjusts her sleeping son on her shoulder. “Oh, I heard about that! Service industry?” She blows out a breath. “Been there. Done that. You’re a saint, Hallie. Killer tips, though, huh?”

Her response takes me by surprise. I guess I expected Rio’s friends, who are all professional athletes or married to one, would judge me for being a bartender. It’s a hard job, dealing with the general public, working late hours, and constantly being on your feet. It’s nowhere near as glamorous as telling people I’m employed by a luxury interior design firm.

“Yeah. Exactly. Great tips.”

“Next time we have a parents’ night out, we’ll have to come see you. And family dinner, whenever you’re free on a Sunday, we’d love to have you.”

I nod with a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Thanks again!” She closes the front door behind her.

It’s just after nine p.m. and Rio is sleeping perfectly fine. I try not to let myself overthink why that may be. We were crammed on the couch with so many bodies, so yeah, his head ended up partially on my thigh, where it still is now, but it was purely due to lack of space.

He looks so peaceful, so content, like his brain finally shut up and allowed him a moment of peace. His dark hair is falling over his forehead and covering his eyes, so without thinking, I use my fingertips to skim his curls out of the way.

He hums.

Sleeping like this, he looks exactly like the boy who I found asleep on my floor more nights than not. And spending time with him tonight felt exactly like it used to, with no anger or hostility between us.

It was nice, but the kids are gone now, so it’s time for me to leave too.

I scoot out from under him, using my hand to cradle his head, and wedging a pillow below him in place of my thigh.

He stirs for a moment, reaching out for me, but I’m far enough from the couch now that he doesn’t find me and instead, slips his hand under the pillow and falls right back asleep. I quietly cover him with a blanket before leaving out the front door and softly closing it behind me.

Inhaling a deep breath, I let the crisp winter air fill my lungs and clear my head.

I missed him.

Plain and simple, I missed Rio DeLuca. All tonight did was continue to prove that to me. I missed driving with him in his truck. I missed listening to music with him. I missed those seemingly insignificant moments, the ones where I look back and realize how important they were to me. The way tonight felt. Laughing with him again. Smiling with him again.

I’m only halfway across the lawn when I hear his front door open.

“Hallie,” he calls out.

Turning back, I find Rio jogging to me, meeting me in the center point between our houses, the way we always used to.

“Hey,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “What happened?”

“The kids all got picked up, and you were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“When did I...” He looks around, clearly out of it. “When did I pass out?”

“About halfway through the movie.”

“Wow.” He inhales deeply, stretching out his back. “Sorry about that.”

“Your friends are nice.”

“Yeah. They’re good people. I got lucky when I moved here, finding that group.”

I give him a soft smile. “Well, goodnight. I hope you have a good road trip.”

Turning back to my house, I only make it one step before he circles my bicep with his hand and swings me back in his direction, pulling me into his chest.

Rio wraps himself around me in a hug that’s firm and comforting and desperate. His arms are crossed around the back of my neck, his face is buried into my hair.

It’s the first time we’ve hugged since seeing each other again, and with my nose buried in his chest, I can’t help but take a dragging inhale. He smells like him. The old him. Because this man is still that same boy I once loved.

Closing my eyes, I fall into him, wrapping my arms around his waist, and we just hold each other.

Outside, standing between our houses, we hold each other longer than friends should. We hold each other longer than two people who claim to still be hurt by each other should.

Rio takes a deep, centering breath. “I missed you, Hallie,” he whispers into my hair.

I close my eyes even tighter, pressing my face further into his chest. It both aches and fills me with relief to hear those words. Because I feel the exact same way and it’s been that way every day for the past six years.

Eventually, his arms uncross before his palms slide against my cheeks, simultaneously pulling my face away from his chest. Craning his neck, he rests his forehead against mine, his labored breaths blending with my own.

So close. He’s so close. Our lips are so close.

We watch each other for a long moment before I use my tongue to wet my lips. I haven’t kissed this man in six years, but it feels like that could change in an instant if Rio decides to shift forward and take what I know he wants.

When he nudges his nose against mine, his lips slightly brush my own, but he doesn’t kiss me yet. He teases. He silently asks for permission.

“Hallie,” he whispers against my mouth. It comes out pained yet urgent, as if there’s more he wants to say but doesn’t.

Like he’s begging and apologizing all at the same time.

Still he doesn’t go in for the kiss. Instead, his thumbs stroke against my cheekbones as he waits for me to decide whether I’m going to close the remaining distance and meet his mouth with my own or stop this altogether.

But alarms are going off in my head. Alarms telling me to pull back and create distance. Alarms telling me that we wouldn’t be able to come back from this. Alarms reminding me that though we’re getting along again, I’m not ready to forgive or forget about the day he left or the painful years after. And I don’t think he is either.

This kiss would only make my job ten times harder. This would only make my life ten times harder because this wouldn’t just be a simple kiss for me. Not with him.

As much as every other part of me wants to lean up, my brain doesn’t let me.

“I’m glad we’re able to be friends,” I whisper against him instead.

Rio’s mouth instantly turns up in a smile and his chest slightly shakes against mine with a laugh. Those lips that were about to press against my own, move to my forehead, placing a kiss there instead.

“Night, Hallie.” He tucks my hair behind my ears before hesitantly letting me go. “Sleep well.”

I take slow steps away from him, telling myself that stopping us was the right thing to do.

I look back over my shoulder to find he hasn’t moved at all.

I’m through my front door, but something doesn’t feel right leaving things like that, so I take a step back outside.

“Hey, Rio?”

Hands in his pockets, he perks up. “Yeah?”

“I missed you too.”