“So where did the two of you go?”

Bryce knew Vashti. Her best friend wouldn’t let up until she spilled her guts. Besides, she could use another friendly ear and Vashti did owe her for all those times she had counseled her about Scott and even about Sawyer.

“We went to what used to be our secret place,” she said, hating to admit such a thing.

“Really? Whose idea was that?”

“Mine,” Bryce confessed.

“Could I ask you why?”

“I need closure.”

Vashti didn’t say anything for a moment, and then she said, “Let me get this straight. You want closure, so you asked Kaegan to take you to a place that used to be your private place, where the two of you would make love, make promises and whisper words of forever?”

“Yes.”

“Excuse me, Bryce, but closure usually doesn’t work that way.”

Bryce dropped down on the sofa. “Not for most people, but I thought Kaegan and I should use a different approach. He went along with it.”

“I just bet he did. He was probably hoping the place would have the opposite effect on you. Once you got there, instead of closure it would remind you of what the place meant to you both.”

If that was what he’d thought then she’d really burst his bubble. On the other hand, he’d pretty much burst hers with that kiss. Locking lips with the fully grown Kaegan still had blood rushing through her veins. Now she wasn’t sure if she still wanted to have closure or not. If not closure then what? Hmm...a kiss from him every now and then would work. Her cheeks reddened and she couldn’t believe she could think such a thing. Of course she wanted closure. But then, from the way she’d kissed him back, she’d wanted him, too. She couldn’t have it both ways.

“Bryce?”

“Yes?”

“So what happened? Did you find closure?”

She paused a moment and then admitted, “No.”

“And it took the two of you two hours to figure that out?”

Bryce rolled her eyes. “We were not gone for two hours, Vash. I told you that.”

“Okay, then how do you feel about that closure thing now?”

She drew in a deep breath. “Not good, because instead of closure I think something else got initiated.”

“What?”

“An opening.”

“Meaning what, Bryce?”

Bryce rubbed her hand across her forehead and thought that was a good question. “We kissed...and do you know what, Vash?”

“What?”

“Like fine wine it’s gotten even better over time.”

“Hot diggity! Sounds like you’ve gotten yourself in a fix, girlfriend.”

She didn’t want to agree with Vashti, but she had a feeling that she had. But it was a predicament that she was determined to work out on her own. Bryce was about to tell that to Vashti when she suddenly heard a noise coming from her backyard.

“Hold on, Vash. I think I heard something.”

“Heard something like what?”

“A noise coming from my backyard. It’s probably Mr. Chelsey’s cat trying to get into my garbage can.” Alton Chelsey was the eighty-year-old widower who lived next door alone with his cat, Butterball.