“You’re right, Gray. I would help Misty, Stella, Delia—hell, I’d help anyone if they were as bad off as you say she was. But I know you. I have since we were seven years old, and you’re feeding yourself a whole load of bullshit if you think that, when you see Jessica Walker, a part of you doesn’t change. I’ve seen it. We all see it. You’ve always loved that girl in a way that didn’t make sense to me when I was sixteen, but she’s that girl for you.”

I shovel a bite of pancake into my mouth, choking it down so I don’t have to reply.

More people come in for breakfast, and we wave, smile, and make small talk as they pass. So many people here have police and fire scanners that it’s no surprise they’re all talking about the fire.

He chuckles. “Tell me this, if you saw her right now, would you react? Would your chest tighten even a little?”

I roll my eyes. “No. I feel nothing but friendship for her.”

Jack nods. “Okay then.” A slow grin spreads across his face. He waves at someone as they enter. “Jess is here.”

I roll my eyes. He’s so fucking predictable. “Sure she is. Asshole.” I take another huge bite, ignoring him because he’s goading me.

“Come sit with us,” Jack says.

The first thing I’m doing this morning is finding a new friend. Jack is fired from the position.

When he scoots over, and Delia sits beside him, I realize I misplayed this. Slowly, I turn to face her. Her long brown hair is braided and pulled to the side, honey-colored eyes staring at me as a hesitant smile forms on her lips.

Shit.

I swallow the food and try to smile. “Jess, hey.”

“Mind if I sit?”

I move as I speak. “Of course not.”

“Thanks.”

She plays with the end of her braid, not really meeting my eyes, and it feels just like it did a million years ago. We’d come here, sit in a booth, and both pretend we weren’t falling for each other. I would try to hold her hand, but she’d always anticipate it and move. It wasn’t until the game before homecoming that I finally got the balls to kiss her.

It happened right outside this very window, she was leaning against the car, my letterman jacket wrapped around her because she was cold, and I lifted her chin before brushing my lips against hers.

I lift my gaze to hers, only to find that she’s staring out the window, and I wonder if she’s remembering the same thing. When she smiles at me, I’m pretty sure she is.

“Hey.”

She tucks her head and smiles. “Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Much better. No headaches, and I slept well.”