Page 36

36

FAITH

I wake to the smell of coffee.

It’s rich, dark, comforting. I stretch beneath soft sheets, every muscle deliciously sore, and let my hand drift across the space beside me—empty, but still warm.

I hear him in the kitchen, humming under his breath.

Padding out in one of his oversized tees, I find Hunter at the counter, shirtless, hair still a mess, pouring two mugs like this is something we’ve done a hundred times. Like this is normal.

Like this is us now.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he says, handing me a mug.

I take a sip, then immediately grimace. “Do you have any sweetener?”

He pauses. “Sweetener?”

“Yeah, like…stevia or whatever.”

He raises an eyebrow, sets down his mug. “You think Thor the Trucker keeps stevia in his pantry?”

“I think Hunter the Heartbreaker maybe should.”

He grins. “You want some, I’ll go get you some.”

“You don’t have to?—”

“I want to,” he says simply. “Come on. We’ll make it a morning adventure.”

Ten minutes later we’re walking the aisles of a tiny local grocery store, barefoot in sandals, hair damp, clothes casual. I grab the sweetener. He grabs a pint of ice cream and a bottle of whiskey.

“For breakfast?” I ask, smirking.

“Emergency stash. Just in case you leave and I spiral.”

We’re standing in the refrigerated section, our little morning errand turning into a full-on adventure. The fluorescent lights flicker softly above us, the store mostly quiet except for the hum of coolers and the low murmur of old country music drifting through overhead speakers.

He shifts his weight, and I glance down—then quickly back up.

“What?” he says, playful suspicion in his voice.

I shake my head, biting my lip. “This is just…really fun. This little morning grocery run.”

His brow lifts. “Yeah? That why you’re staring at me like that?”

“I’m staring,” I say, lowering my voice, “because you’re wearing gray sweats. And well…they’re not very subtle. If you catch my drift.”

A slow, knowing grin spreads across his face. “Sorry. I forgot you were a church lady.”

He grabs a cucumber off a nearby shelf and raises an eyebrow. “Should I grab one of these for inspiration later?”

I nearly choke on my laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

And then?—

“Faith?”

The name cuts through the aisle like a blade.

I freeze. Turn. And there he is.

Keith.

Hair messy. Eyes bloodshot. Shoulders slumped in a hoodie that looks like he slept in it. He blinks a few times, as if he doesn’t believe it’s really me.

“Keith,” I say slowly. Calmly. My heart’s hammering, but not from fear. From clarity.

Hunter looks at me. “You want a minute?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t move far—just steps to the end of the aisle, still in earshot, pretending to examine hot sauce. And somehow, that gives me strength.

Keith scratches the back of his neck. “I didn’t think I’d… run into you.”

“Clearly.”

He nods, eyes scanning me, then flicking briefly toward Hunter before landing back on me. “Him, really? A Holloway?”

“And you don’t get to comment on him. It’s my life, Keith.”

Keith swallows. “Look, I was an idiot. I know that. I was scared. Of commitment, of… I don’t know. All of it. But I’ve been thinking a lot. And I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything. I know I hurt you.”

I take a breath. A long one.

“I’m not angry anymore, Keith,” I say. “But I also don’t have anything left for you. You didn’t love me—you wanted someone who fit inside your world. Someone quiet. Convenient. Who wouldn’t question what you did or challenge you. And I played that role for a long time because I thought it was what I deserved.”

He shifts his weight. “That’s not fair?—”

“It’s true,” I interrupt gently. “And you know it. You never saw me. Not really. But I’m starting to now. And I don’t belong in that version of my life anymore.”

Silence stretches between us. And for the first time ever, I’m not filling it. I’m not trying to smooth it over or spare his feelings.

“I hope you figure yourself out,” I add. “But I’m done shrinking for people who won’t meet me where I am.”

Keith opens his mouth. Closes it again. Nods. “Okay,” he murmurs. “You look… good.”

I smile. Not out of politeness. But because I do feel good. Strong. Whole.

“Thanks,” I say. “I do.”

As I turn away, Hunter is already there, handing me the sweetener like it’s a crown.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

I nod. “Let’s check out.”

And just like that, I leave that old version of myself behind—right there between the cucumbers and the regrets. Where it belongs.

The second the sliding doors of the store swish closed behind us, the morning air hits me like a reset button.

I don’t realize how tight my shoulders were until I step into the sunlight and breathe.

Hunter’s already a few steps ahead, but he stops—like he can feel the shift in me—and turns. His eyes meet mine.

And then he moves .

In one smooth motion, he strides back toward me, grabs my hips, and presses me gently—but firmly—against the side of his truck.

“Jesus,” he mutters, eyes dark. “That was hot.”

I blink. “Me telling off my ex was hot?”

He grins, leaning in until our noses brush. “You standing up for yourself. That voice? That fire? Yeah. That was the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”

My breath catches just as his lips capture mine.

It’s not rushed. Not frantic. It’s claiming. Reverent. His mouth moves over mine like he means it—like the only language he knows right now is touch.

And I melt into it.

Right there in the parking lot, where anyone could see. Where I used to care so much about how I appeared. But not anymore. Because this? This is who I am now. And I want to be seen.

He pulls back just enough to whisper, “You good?”

I nod, smiling as I trace my fingers along the hem of his shirt. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He opens the door for me and we hop into the truck.

We ride in silence for a few minutes, the road slipping beneath us, the sunlight blinking through trees as we head toward home. I’m sipping my coffee. Still processing.

“I’m happy,” I say softly.

Hunter glances at me. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I stare out the window. “But there’s one thing left. One person—well, two—we’re going to have to tell.”

“Who?” he asks, already knowing.

I turn to him, steady. “My daddy. And my mom too.”

He exhales slowly. “You ready for that?”

“I’m not sure.” I smile, even as my stomach knots. “But I know I’m not going to hide anymore. And if I’m choosing this —choosing you—then I’m going to do it with my whole heart.”

Hunter reaches over and laces his fingers through mine on the center console.

“Then let’s do it,” he says. “I got your back.”

And as the truck curves around a bend in the road, all I can think is:

This time? I’m not running.