CHAPTER 64: HATTIE
The next morning, sunlight spilled through the kitchen window, catching on the half-empty wine glasses still sitting on the counter from the night before. I hadn’t slept much. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Maisie’s face—her smile, her trust, the way she’d hugged me before leaving. And then I saw Preston’s name glowing on my phone screen. I’d told myself I wouldn’t text him again. That I’d draw a line, keep things from going any further. But the truth was, that line had already blurred beyond recognition. I poured coffee, trying to shake the heaviness in my chest. The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that made every thought louder. My phone buzzed.
Preston: Morning, beautiful.
I stared at the message, my stomach twisting. I should’ve ignored it. I should’ve deleted it. But instead, I typed back. Morning. You’re up early
Preston: Couldn’t sleep. Been thinking about you
I set the phone down, pressing my fingers to my temples. This was getting dangerous. Every word, every message, pulled me deeper into something I didn’t know how to escape. I walked to the window, looking out at the empty driveway. The same one he’d driven down that night. The same one I couldn’t stop staring at, half-expecting to see his truck again. The sound of my phone buzzing broke the silence.
Preston: I’m coming back next week. Just for a couple of days. Business trip
My heart skipped. You shouldn’t tell me that. I typed.
Preston: Why not?
Because you know what it does to me.
There was a pause before his reply came through.
Preston: Maybe I like what it does to you
I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly. “You’re impossible,” I whispered to no one. The rest of the day passed in fragments. I tried to work, but my focus was gone. Every photo I edited looked wrong, every email I wrote felt hollow. By afternoon, I gave up and went for a drive. The roads outside town were quiet, lined with fields just starting to turn green again. I rolled the windows down, letting the wind tangle my hair, trying to clear my head. But no matter how far I drove, I couldn’t outrun the thoughts chasing me.
When I got home, the sun was setting, painting the sky in soft pinks and golds. I sat on the porch steps with a blanket around my shoulders, watching the light fade. My phone buzzed again.
Preston: I wish you were here
I stared at the message, my heart aching. Don’t say that. I typed.
Preston: Then tell me you don’t want me to come back
I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the screen. I could end it right there. I could tell him not to come, tell him this had gone too far. But I didn’t. I can’t tell you that. I wrote finally. The reply came almost instantly.
Preston: Then I’ll see you soon
I set the phone down, my pulse racing. The night air was cool against my skin, but I felt flushed, restless. I thought about Maisie again—her laughter, her kindness, the way she’d looked at me like I was the one person she could always count on. And I thought about Preston—his voice, his touch, the way he made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t in years. Two worlds pulling me in opposite directions. I didn’t know which one I belonged to anymore. When the stars came out, I whispered into the quiet, “What are you doing, Hattie?” But the truth was, I already knew. I was waiting. For him. For the next mistake. For whatever came next.
I knew he was coming back. He’d told me days ago when he was flying in but hearing it and seeing it were two very different things. All morning, I’d tried to distract myself—editing photos, cleaning the kitchen, even baking muffins I didn’t need. But every sound outside made my heart jump. By late afternoon, the sky had turned soft and gray, the kind of light that made everything feel suspended. I was sitting on the couch, laptop open but forgotten, when I heard it—the low rumble of a truck coming down the dirt driveway
My breath caught. I stood, smoothing my hands over my jeans, trying to steady myself. The knock came a few seconds later—firm, familiar. When I opened the door, there he was. Preston. He looked tired, like he’d been running on too little sleep and too much coffee, but when he smiled, it was the same smile that had undone me the first time.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Hey,” I managed. “You’re early.” “Couldn’t wait.” He stepped inside, the scent of rain and cologne following him. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us felt charged, heavy with everything we hadn’t said since he left. “You look good,” he said finally, his voice low. “So do you,” I said, though it came out barely above a whisper. He took a step closer, his eyes searching mine. “I told myself I’d just stop by to say hi. Keep it simple.” “And?” He smiled faintly. “I’ve never been good at simple.” I laughed softly, shaking my head.