passes him the receipt has me biting back my smile.
We walk to the pick-up counter and stand side by side as Carter puts his money back into the new-looking leather wallet.
“Thanks,” I murmur.
He dips his chin.
We wait in silence for another moment, neither of us saying anything. I watch people come and go from the tiny establishment, guys pushing each other and laughing, girls whispering and giggling. It seems like everything I missed. I had three years to form those kinds of friendships, and I’d only sort of managed it with Jenna. But I never went out to get coffee with her, or gossip about campus life, or tell her all about some guy I slept with because I could.
Did I regret that? Regret Danny?
A ping of hurt radiates in my chest as soon as the thought sweeps across my mind. How could I ever regret somebody who impacted my life as much as he did? Even if he and I didn’t become more like I wanted, I loved him regardless. As a friend—someone to depend on.
A throat clears. “You okay?”
I blink. Then blink again. Carter comes into focus when I come back to reality. The one where I’m standing next to my attractive professor amidst the local college kids instead of the man I’d always pictured myself with.
Because Carter exists.
And Danny no longer does.
Heart hurting, I force a tight smile. “Lost in thought. I’m fine.” My eyes turn to the counter where one of the other student workers finishes putting tops on two coffees.
“Danny?”
My bottom lip quivers. “Yeah.”
“You can talk to me, Piper,” he murmurs, eyes focused downward on mine despite my lack of attentiveness toward him.
I know I can talk to him. That’s the problem. It doesn’t matter what roles we play here on campus—professor and student or not. I shouldn’t have to talk to anybody about someone I lost three years ago like it still slices me up as if I’d just said goodbye to him yesterday.
“That’s all right, Professor Ford,” is the reply I manage to say evenly. Our order is called, and I happily take the white bag with my pastry and the cool drink that feels like heaven against my clammy palm and thank Carter again. “I’m going to be late.”
It isn’t until I powerwalk out that I realize how stupid that was to say. It’s his class I’m going to next, and it doesn’t start for another thirty minutes. And that’s when I decide to be weak for a day and walk to my car, unlock the door, and drive anywhere but here.
No classes.
No Carter Ford.
No feelings.
And when I eventually find my way home with Ainsley in the back seat after school, we walk into the house that smells like chocolate brownies and something else—something floral. I walk into the kitchen and reveal the reason why, a six-year-old hot on my heels and tugging on the hem of my shirt when she sees the pan of brownies.
My eyes are stuck on the flowers.
It’s a beautiful bouquet of assorted flowers that brings the kitchen to life. I drag my fingertips across the petals and note the pretty white ribbon tied along the small of the vase they’re sitting in. From the corner of my eye, I see Ainsley climb onto the chair and glance down at the dessert in the baking tray.
“Hold on,” I direct, seeing the small note in front of them. It’s in East’s scratchy handwriting.
Enjoy.
I grab a plate and napkin for Ainsley before taking out a piece for her to snack on. My eyes go back to the flowers. Moving aside some in search of another note, I realize there is none other than a generic Happy Valentine’s Day card stuck in the middle with the local shop’s logo and number.
Sliding my phone from my back pocket, I shoot a quick text to Easton saying Ainsley loves the brownies.
East: Glad to hear
Biting my lip, I stare at the flowers for another moment before thumbing the keys on my screen again.
Me: Thank you for the flowers
It doesn’t take long before bubbles appear at the bottom followed by his response.
East: Don’t know what you’re talking about
At first, I think he’s joking. It makes me smile for a moment to think he wouldn’t want me knowing, but that smile quickly disappears when I see the two texts he sends directly after.
East: They’re not from me
East: Be back late
I blink and reread the texts before shaking my head and looking up at the flowers. If