"Sweetheart, you were about as subtle as a moose in a flower shop." Mae patted his shoulder. "But you turned out alright. Both of you. That's what matters."
She bustled off to get the cinnamon rolls, and I leaned into Knox's side, letting myself breathe.
This was real. We were here, together, in public, and the world hadn't ended.
"You okay?" Knox asked quietly.
"Better than okay." I looked up at him. "I spent so long being afraid of what people would think. Of what Cal would think. And now..."
"Now?"
"Now I don't care." I smiled. "The only opinions that matter are yours and mine. Everyone else can deal with it."
He kissed me, right there in the middle of the café, soft and quick but unmistakably possessive. Someone wolf-whistled from across the room. I was pretty sure it was Mason.
When Knox pulled back, his eyes were warm. "That's my girl."
We ate Mae's cinnamon rolls. Drank too much coffee and talked about everything and nothing, filling in the gaps of eight years apart. He told me about the jobs he'd worked, the cabin he'd bought, the volunteer work with the mountain rescue team that had given him purpose. I told him about nursing school, about the city, about the slow erosion of myself that had happened under Garrett's influence.
"I lost myself," I admitted, stirring the dregs of my coffee. "Piece by piece. He'd say something critical, and I'd adjust. He'd isolate me from a friend, and I'd let it happen. By the end, I didn't even recognize who I'd become."
Knox's hand tightened on my shoulder. "That's not your fault."
"I know." I met his eyes. "It took me a long time to understand that. But I know it now. And being back here, being with you..." I shook my head. "I feel like myself again. The self I was before everything went wrong."
"You're not that girl anymore," Knox said quietly. "You're stronger. You've been through things that would have broken someone else, and you're still here. Still fighting."
"So are you."
He smiled, and something in my chest settled. We'd both been through the fire. We'd both come out different. But maybe different wasn't bad. Maybe different was exactly what we needed to be.
June found us as we were leaving the café.
She was leaning against her truck across the street, arms crossed, purple-streaked hair catching the sunlight. When she saw us emerge hand in hand, she pushed off the truck and walked over.
"So it's true," she said, looking between us. "You two finally got your heads out of your asses."
"Nice to see you too, June," Knox said dryly.
"Don't give me attitude, Parker. I've been watching you mope around this town for years. It was getting pathetic." She turned to me, her expression softening slightly. "Glad you took my advice."
"You were right," I said. "About the story I was telling myself. It wasn't the whole truth."
"Usually am." June shrugged. "It's a gift." She looked at Knox again. "You hurt her, I'll put sugar in your gas tank and then run you over with my tow truck."
"Noted."
"Good." She gave me a nod that felt like approval. "Ladies' Garage Night is next Thursday. You should come. Time you made some friends who aren't also sleeping with you."
She walked off before I could respond, climbing into her truck and pulling away with a roar of the engine.
"I think she likes you," Knox said.
"That was her liking me?"
"For June? That was practically a hug."
I laughed, and Knox pulled me close, kissing my temple.