The car shifted to park as we arrived just on the outskirts of town. Before I could get out, Len had already opened her door and hopped out. I hurried after her, grabbing the basket and a blanket I’d placed in the back seat.

“A picnic,” I said. “Follow me.”

She walked behind me as I headed for the path. I knew exactly the spot. I’d spent hours researching online to find it. It was only a quick walk, and from what I could tell, it was a lesser known location. Most tourists didn’t bother coming out here when they had the beach.

The spot was empty, a small hill leading to it. I paused and waited for Len, holding out a hand, which she hesitantly took.

We climbed the small hill to the cliffside. The grass was plush in this area, and the view was beyond what I’d expected, the sky a pink and orange mix as the sun started to set.

Sunrises over the ocean and sunsets over a view like this? I was starting to see why so many chose to remain in Briarport.

Len let go of my hand, her grasp already reluctant before releasing me. I spread the black gingham blanket I packed on the ground, plopping the wicker basket on top of it. We both sat, and already, I could sense her reluctance.

“What’s wrong, Len?” I asked, searching her rich brown eyes for answers I couldn’t quite grasp myself.

“It’s nothing,” she muttered.

“It isn’t nothing,” I pushed. She was holding back. I didn’t want her to hide things from me, to close herself off.

She’d done enough of that for the last three years; there was no need for her to carry that pain alone. I knew something was wrong. I could see it in the way her eyes focused on a single spot on the blanket, and her brows furrowed ever so slightly. Her gaze was distant, like she was barely there in the moment.

“It’s just-” she started. “It’s seriously nothing.”

“Lenny,” I pushed, the name grabbing her attention.

“You’re the only one who calls me that,” she pointed out, avoiding my prodding.

“I’m the only one who noticed the way your lips slightly pull up into a smile at the sound of it, or the way you sometimes blush when you hear it.”

That brought a familiar pink to her cheeks.

“You can tell me,” I added. “I won’t judge you.”