Caleb kissed me goodbye on the porch just after noon. He was in his fishing vest, sunglasses on, tackle box in one hand and beer in the other. I kissed him back, long enough for guilt to scrape under my ribs. His mouth was warm, sweet, and easy. The way good men kiss when they believe nothing can go wrong.
“See you at sunset, babe,” he said, tapping the tip of my nose. “Be good.”
I smiled.
He didn’t see the way my knees nearly buckled when the screen door closed behind him. He didn’t see the way I stood there for a full minute after the car rolled down the gravel path, hands clenched in the fabric of my dress, chest rising and falling like I’d just run a mile.
Behind me, the cabin was too quiet.
Then came the voice.
“He’s gone.”
I turned. Jace was leaning in the doorway, shirtless,
