“Everybody needs a good-luck charm,” she said, her heart pounding hard.
“I would’ve thought that this wasn’t a good-luck charm to you anymore.”
“Well. That’s the thing. You don’t know me. Maybe you never really did.”
“I think I did,” he said, his voice rough.
“Well. Well.” She took the lid off the food. “I’m actually not... The thing is, Flint. That was the first relationship that I ever had. You know that. Because I told you a lot of things about myself. It was the first relationship that I ever had, and the first heartbreak that I ever had. Of course I wrote about it. I’m...” She was trying to decide if she was going to outright lie to him or not. “I’m sorry. I didn’t consider how it would make you feel when I released the song.” That was partly true. Because if she had considered it at all, she’d hoped that it would make him see. She’d hoped that it would upset him.
She had hoped that it would show him.
She’d hoped that it would hurt him.
“I only thought about how I felt.” What she had felt had been the only thing that mattered. “And I’m not actually invested in people yelling at you on streets. I’ve never asked anyone to do that, and I’ve never confirmed that the song is about you for that reason. I don’t like any of that. I never asked anyone for it.”
She sat down, and took a bite of her steak. “Do you want to have dinner?”
“What?” he asked.
“Let’s just have dinner together.” She didn’t know why she felt compelled to do this. Except...here they were. Thrown together for a reason.
There had to be a reason, right? Fate, or Christmas magic or something.
She did still have the cactus. She needed...something. She needed something to jar her inspiration loose. Being with him these past couple hours she’d had more complicated feelings than she’d had in the past two years.
She felt more alive.
And she might be angry, that was for damn sure, but at least she felt something.
That feeling of wistfulness that she’d had when she’d been watching him walk in front of her—the feeling he might be a better man than he’d been when they’d broken up, but the man that she had always imagined he might be—was the beginning of a song. Was the beginning of something.
It was what she was here for.
And anyway, she knew better now. She wasn’t in love with him anymore. Yes, she was still kind of angry. Yes, the hurt was still there. And yes, he was still beautiful. But she knew better now. Intensely, and wholly.
“We can eat downstairs,” she said.
She resolutely picked her plate up. “Come on.”
“Do you want to get dressed?” he asked.
She suddenly realized she was still in her robe.
“Oh. Yes. I do.” She set her plate down. “I’ll meet you downstairs?”
“Yeah,” he said.
By the time she’d gotten her sweats on, she was resolved. Determined. She was going to use this to find a new angle on their relationship. She was going to use this as a way to heal.
And maybe it would also heal whatever was happening with her music.
Because she needed that. Otherwise that would really mean that the most exciting and wonderful part of her life was over. She had fallen in love and lost it. She had success and it was slipping away...
She pushed those thoughts away.
There was more for her. There was.
Flint Carson was not the end of her road.
But he might be the key to her reclaiming some of her creativity. And she was going to run with that.
Except thinking like that forced her to think back, and the whole time she headed down the stairs, she was thinking about him. And about how tonight paralleled another moment he’d come to her rescue.
Before
She felt like a coward leaving the motel as early as she did, a coward for avoiding Flint. But he’d been about to kiss her. Or he’d at least been considering kissing her.
And she’d...she’d panicked. Because she wanted to kiss him. She wanted to kiss him so much it consumed her every waking moment. She couldn’t do that. Because...
He’s not just a cowboy, though. He’s Flint.
He’s your friend.
Yes. He had become her friend over these last few days. It seemed improbable and strange. But she liked him. He was the highlight of every day. She...
She was headed down the highway when her truck started to overheat. Persistently.
“Shit,” she shouted. She hit the steering wheel with the palm of her hand. “Shit.”
