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bedroom to get some shoes, leaving him staring at the open door, wondering what her grown-up bedroom looked like. He had no right to look so he remained seated on her sofa. What he could see of her apartment suited her. Red was obviously still her favorite color, and he smiled when he noticed a porcelain ladybug sitting on one of the shelves.

He rose from the couch and stepped closer to look at her trinkets, his breath catching in his throat as he picked up a picture from the Halloween when she’d dressed as a ladybug. An entire group of their friends was smiling and laughing in the photo, including him.

His heart rate accelerated as he set the frame back in its spot. She had a picture of him. Granted, they weren’t alone or anything, but still.

He was holding the porcelain ladybug in his hand when she emerged from her bedroom. She had on shoes now and a light sweater over her pink tank top. She’d brushed her hair. It wasn’t quite as long as she’d kept it in high school, but he ached to reach out and run his fingers through it, remembering how soft it was and how she’d always sigh when he stroked her head.

“I see you still like ladybugs,” he pointed out as he set the trinket back on the shelf.

She shrugged, eyeing him speculatively. “You’re not going to make some sort of joke about it?”

He winced. “No.” He hated that she didn’t trust him to be serious. Though he also couldn’t blame her. “Ready?” It was time to get out of her apartment. It smelled like her. Exactly as he remembered. Vanilla and cherries. She’d used that flavor of lotion and perhaps even shampoo in high school. Now, he suspected it was a candle.

“Yeah, but I need to call someone about my car.”

He shook his head. “Already shot a text to one of the guys at the shop. Someone is going to go take a look. We just need to drop off the keys.”

“Okay. Thanks.” She was fidgeting. Why did he make her nervous? This was new. He’d never made her nervous when they were young.

She rode next to him in silence, sitting with her hands tucked under her thighs as he dropped her keys off at the shop and then jumped on the highway. He could have chosen something right in town but decided he didn’t want to risk seeing someone they knew.

It shouldn’t matter. It wasn’t like he couldn’t take April McKay to lunch or anything. It was selfish on his part. He didn’t feel like sharing her. He didn’t want to be interrupted and have to speak to anyone else.

She didn’t comment on his choice as he pulled up to a Mexican restaurant he used to take her too, glad it was still around. But she was looking at him as he parked, her brow slightly furrowed.

Maybe he’d crossed the line bringing her here. Too nostalgic.

Finally, she jerked her gaze away and opened the door, jumping down from his rental.

God, this was hard. Unexpected emotions welled up inside him as he led her into the restaurant and then chose a two-person table near the back where it was quieter.

“Tell me about your dad,” she murmured as soon as they had their drinks and a bowl of chips and salsa. “What happened?”

“Heart attack.” He didn’t want to talk about his damn dad. In fact, he had to suck back the next words threatening to spill from his lips. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.

He shouldn’t be surprised that she was staring at him in confusion. He’d never shared much about his home life when they were in high school. He hadn’t wanted anyone to know, not even April.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated.

“Listen, April…” He drew in a deep breath. “The man was an asshole. Can we talk about something else?” For some reason, he didn’t mind sharing that detail now. He hadn’t back then, but it no longer mattered.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Are you still in San Diego?”

“Yes.” At least she knew that much about him. “Except when I’m on a mission. It was my own damn luck that my father chose to die while I was in the continental US.”

She flinched and looked down at her lap, smoothing her napkin as if it were important. “What’s going to happen to the shop? Is your brother going to take over?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. I haven’t spoken to him personally. I’m not sure if he’s interested. It’s complicated.” He’d gone by the shop first thing this morning. In fact, it was the only place he’d been so far, his second stop being The Bean Stop for coffee. Jacob hadn’t been at the shop this morning, and from what Cole gathered from his father’s right-hand man, Bart, Jacob rarely came to the shop.

Cole wasn’t surprised. Jacob had been the laziest child Cole had ever met. He’d been twelve when Cole left town, but it would have shocked Cole to find out Jacob had ever switched gears and put forth any effort. Why should he when his mother babied him?

“Oh.”

He felt like a dick not answering her questions. He needed to give her more. “It’s just that technically I suppose the shop belongs to both of us. But I’m obviously not going to stay in town and run the family business, and I somehow doubt Jacob has the collateral to buy out my half, so, see, it’s kind of messy.”

“I get it.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, reminding him of all the times he’d done that for her. The times when they’d been alone. Just the two of them. The times when he’d been serious with her.

“Have you looked up any of the old gang?” she asked. “Rodney or Billy?”

He shook his head. “Nah.”

“I bet some of them will show up at the funeral. I’m sorry I hadn’t heard the news.”

“It’s okay.” What would she have done if she’d heard?

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