“That’s the thing. I’m usually happy around Jackson…when he’s not scaring the shit out of me and racing off to fly in a storm.” My hand closed around the sea-glass pendant, as if I could hold him by proxy, and my forehead puckered. There were very few times I’d been happy around Will. Sure, there had been nights like the ball and when he’d shown up at my house, but the angst definitely ruled the bulk of our relationship. “They’re so different from each other.”

“Night and day,” she agreed. “And that’s okay. You don’t have to compare them. It’s not like you have to make a choice.”

A choice? Between Will and Jackson? No, thank you.

She scoffed. “Girl, I said you don’t have to make a choice.”

I rolled my eyes and took another deep breath, searching my body for the usual signs that I was at my limit. “No anxiety attack.”

“No anxiety attack,” she agreed. “Look at you, getting all healthy and stuff.”

“Let’s get out of here. Maybe I’ll drive tomorrow.”

“How much of that anxiety medication do you have?” she questioned.

“What? For acute attacks?” I asked. “I haven’t taken rescue meds in…” I tried to think. “God, it’s been over a month now.”

“Right. I didn’t say they were for you. They’re for me riding along with you in this thing.” She lifted her eyebrows.

Our eyes locked, and we laughed. I still had a smile on my face as we climbed the steps to my house. I loved my little mushroom-shaped home. The teal paint, the white trim, the new, stronger decking. It felt like a stranger who had slowly become my best friend. My very expensive best friend.

The remodel was just about finished. The two other bedrooms upstairs needed to be gutted and redone, but I’d do that after Sam left so she wasn’t inconvenienced.

The whole-house generator had been ordered, and Steve was due to start the demo on the master bathroom next week.

I was finally going to have a bench in my shower so I could shave my legs without twisting myself into knots like the newest cast member of Cirque du Soliel. A bench where Jackson could sit while I straddled his lap—

Speak of the devil, why was Jackson’s Land Cruiser pulling in his driveway?

We stood on the deck as he parked in the garage.

“Hey, stranger,” I called out as he appeared, swinging a little paper bag.

He startled. “What are you doing up there?”

Sam leaned on the railing. “We’ve just been sitting here all day in the hopes that you’d pull up—and look! Here you are!”

My shoulders shook with laughter as he crossed our yard, but it died when he looked up at me and climbed the stairs.