The morning is beautiful. Crisp and clear, the kind of day that makes you believe in fresh starts. Biscuit is thrilled to be out earlier than usual, sniffing everything like the smells are completely different at this hour.
We reach The Grind at seven-fifty. The outdoor seating area is empty except for a couple reading newspapers. The heaters are already on, making the space cozy despite the cool air. I grab a table in the corner, tie Biscuit's leash to the chair, and try to look casual. Like I'm definitely not freaking out about breakfast with a man I barely know.
Like I definitely didn't spend three hours last night overthinking every possible conversation topic.
Like I definitely don't have the world's most obvious crush on someone I met exactly twenty-four hours ago.
Chapter 6 - Riot
"No, Maya, you looked perfect in the first one."
"But this one has flowers, Daddy!" Maya holds up the dress, her third outfit change in the last twenty minutes. "Biscuit might like flowers!"
I'm sitting on the edge of the bed in our room at the clubhouse, watching my daughter have a complete meltdown over what to wear for breakfast. With a dog. Who definitely won't notice the difference between the striped shirt and the flowered dress.
But I don't have the heart to tell her that.
"The flowers are very pretty," I agree, checking my watch. Seven forty-five. We're going to be late. "But you also looked beautiful in the striped shirt. And the blue dress."
"But which one is the most beautiful?" She's standing in front of the small mirror, holding the dress up to her chest, her face scrunched up in serious concentration.
Christ. She's four years old and already worried about looking her best. I don't know where she gets it from. Her mother wasn’t like this, and I sure as hell don't care what I look like beyond "clean enough not to offend."
But Maya... Maya wants to impress. Wants to make a good impression on Biscuit, apparently. Or maybe on Alice. Or maybe she's just picking up on my own nervousness and reflecting it back at me in four-year-old form.
"Wear the flowered dress," I tell her. "It's perfect."
Her whole face lights up. "Really?"
"Really. Now put it on fast, okay? We need to leave in five minutes."
She scrambles into the dress while I check my phone. No messages. Nothing urgent. Just the time staring back at me: 7:47.
I should call my brother. Haven't talked to him in a week, and that's long enough that he's probably starting to worry. Eli, my older brother by three years, has this sixth sense for when something's changed, when I'm making decisions that affect more than just the next town or the next meal.
And this is definitely one of those decisions.
I dial his number. He picks up on the second ring.
"Carter. About time. I was starting to think you'd driven off a cliff somewhere."
"Good to hear your voice too, asshole." But I'm smiling despite myself. This is how we've always been. Insults as affection, worry disguised as annoyance.
"Where are you?" Eli asks, and I can hear the concern underneath the casual tone.
"Blackwater Falls. Little town in the middle of nowhere. Been here about a day."
"A whole day? That's practically settling down for you." He pauses. "Everything okay? You sound... different."
Of course he can hear it. Can probably sense it through the phone, the shift in my voice, the fact that I'm not already planning my exit strategy.
"I might have found a place to stay," I say.
Silence on the other end. Long enough that I check to make sure the call didn't drop.
"Eli?"
"I'm here. Just... processing." Another pause. "You sure? You've been running for six months, Carter. What changed?"