Azalea doesn’t always stay the night, but holy hell, I love it when she does. Waking up with her wrapped around me . . . there’s nothing better. It’s a glimpse into the future I’m desperately trying to make into a reality.

“Mmm—what time is it?” she asks, her voice thick with sleep.

“Early, not even six.” Gently, I brush her hair off her face and out of her eyes. “Do you work today?” She shakes her head, burying it into my chest. “Good, then go back to sleep. I need to help my dad for a bit, and then we can spend the day together?”

As much as I want to tell, I ask, knowing that it needs to be her decision. Not to mention, every time she comes to me, it’s that much sweeter.

“Sounds good,” she mumbles, already falling back asleep.

I linger in bed, knowing it’ll put me behind, but the feel of her pressed up against me, with her guard down and the peace of sleep softening her features . . . yeah, it’s worth it.

Twenty minutes later, I’m out the door and on my way down to the barn, where Dad is waiting. Seeing me approach, he taps his wrist, where a watch would go if he wore one. “Sorry, Dad. Azalea—”

“Say no more, son. I got it. Now, let’s get to work so you can get back to your lady.”

“She’s not my lady, Dad.”

“Not yet, Drake. Not yet, but y’all are soulmates.” I shoot him a dubious look, but the old man just chuckles. “I’m sure of it, son.”

“How sure?” I ask, cringing at the uncertain, hopeful tone of my voice.

“Just as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, that girl is meant for you.” As pansy as it sounds, his words make hope spark in my heart like flint to kindling.

“You really think so?” I feel like a kid, asking this shit, but . . .

“Yeah, son, I do.”

“We got time for me to ask you a question or two?”

Dad rubs his palms together. “Ooh, girl talk!”

“Never mind, ya old ass—”

“I’ll be serious. What’s up, Drake?”

“After you and Mom split, were you scared to take a chance on Didi?”

Dad gives my words consideration before replying. “Sure, son. I was scared, but not for the reasons you think. Things with your mom . . . they were complicated. We never loved one another, not in the way a man and wife should. We were friends who ended up with a baby. Lord knows, we tried to make it work for you, son, but we just weren’t meant to be.”

“I already know this story, Dad,” I tell him, nudging his shoulder with mine.

Nudging me back, he tells me, “Shut your trap and let me finish. As you know, I met Didi shortly after you and your mom left for Arkansas. I was instantly taken with her, son, but was scared she wouldn’t be interested in a single dad. But I was more scared not to try.”

Dad’s eyes get all misty, and maybe mine do too. “I remember it like it just happened. She was standing in line in front of me at the sub shop in town, and I remember thinking she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, like an angel, and I just looked at her and thought, I’ve got to know her, so I worked up the nerve and introduced myself.

“The line was long, and we got to talkin’, and before I knew it, we were seated together, eating our subs and talking about everything, and when I mentioned you, her eyes lit up. After y’all met and got on like y’all did, the rest was history, Drake. I guess what I’m trying to say is, the thought of not taking a chance on her scared me more than taking one. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, Dad, it does. Now let’s get to work, old man.”

“Old man, my ass. Hop in the Gator. We got work to do, boy,” Dad shoots back, climbing behind the wheel.

With the pedal pressed damn-near to the floor, we take off from the barn, tearing across the field until we reach the section of fence we’re working on. “Damn, Dad, are you tryin’ to kill us?”

“Naw, just making sure we’re both wide awake,” he tells me with a smile as he tosses me my gloves. Silently, we set to work mending the barbed wire, and before I know it, I’m wiping the sweat from my brow and admiring our work.

“Anything else you wanna get done today?” I ask as I store our tools in the bed of the Gator.

“Plenty, son, but I’ll be working with Brent today. You head on home.”

“You sure?” I ask, just as Brent Matheson, our extra set of hands, pulls up in his old truck.

“One hundred and ten percent. Take the cart. I’ll ride back down with Brent when we’re finished working. Give Azalea a hug for me, yeah?”

“Yeah, Dad, will do.” I nod a hello to Brent as I pass his truck, and then I haul ass back to my wom—I mean, Azalea.

* * *

“Little Bit, you up?” I holler as I kick my muddy boots off by the door.

“Mmmhmm,” I hear her call from the living room. Trudging in, I find her curled up on my couch with her Kindle.

“Whatcha reading?”

“Nothing you’d care about.”

“C’mon now, you don’t know that. Try me,” I tell her, lowering myself onto the cushion next to her.

“Fine, I’m reading a book called Boomerangers.”

“Boom-a-what?” I ask, causing her to let loose peals of laughter, and it’s fucking music to my ears.

“It’s a rom-com about a single mom with a foul-mouthed toddler and her high school sweetheart—”

“Swear to God, you’re speaking another language.” Azalea shoves my shoulder before resting her head on it and sniffing dramatically. “Are you smelling me?”

“Yes, and you stink. Go shower, and I’ll make us something to eat.”

“Sounds good, and maybe after, we can watch a movie—”

“Did you just ask me to Netflix and chill?”

I stand from the couch and quirk a brow at her. “I don’t have a clue what that means. Be back soon, fresh and clean.”

I race through my shower, not wanting to miss a moment with her, because Lord knows, they’re fleeting. So, it’s just the basics, and I’m dressed and crowding her into the kitchen counter.

“Whatcha makin’?” I whisper in her ear, causing a full-body shiver.

“Nothing fancy, just some shells and cheese—”

“With hotdogs,” I finish for her. “Damn, I love yo–that.” I cringe at my almost-admission, praying she missed it, but judging by the way her entire body just tightened, I’m guessing she didn’t. Dammit.

Without even looking at me, she uses her shoulder to push me back and ducks out from between me and the cabinets. “Why don’t you grab us something to drink, and I’ll meet you at the table?” I can hear the strain in her voice, like she’s trying to choke back her tears, and I hate it. I hate that I’m the cause, and I hate the thought that my loving her could cause her so much distress. Guess that just reaffirms what I already knew.

She may want my body, but she doesn’t want my heart. Luckily, I’m no quitter. I’ll keep trying, even if it kills me, because you don’t let a woman like Azalea Barnes walk away without one hell of a fight.

I keep my eyes trained on the task at hand—spooning a generous portion of my shells and cheese into our bowls. I can feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to look at him.

I can’t. The way he so easily tosses around the “L” word, like it’s nothing, like it has no meaning. The way he’s so oblivious to my feelings, but then again, I guess that’s my fault. It’s not like I talk about them. Ever.

No way. I keep that shit locked down tight, or so I tell myself. Myla Rose and the girls say I wear them on my sleeve and that everyone except Drake and me can see how perfect we’d be, but what do they know?

I mean, sure, Myla Rose found her happily ever after, but Seraphine and Magnolia are as single as can be, so . . . whatever.

“Little Bit,” Drake calls after me as I head into the dining room, where I throw our bowls onto the table before hurling myself into a chair. “Bit, c’mon, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

I cut my eyes to him, my anger and hurt blanketing the room. “Eat before your food gets cold.”

“You really gonna act like this?”

“Act like what?” I know I’m being bitchy, but I can’t help it.

“Azalea, for real. I don’t know what’s got you so pissy, but let’s talk this shit out. I was lookin’ forward to a nice day with you, so . . . please?”

Drake shoots me his best puppy-dog eyes, and I can feel my icy resolve softening. I can never stay mad at him, especially when he’s so damn clueless as to what he did.

“Yeah, sure, D. Let’s eat, and then we can watch a movie.”

“I didn’t say let’s sweep shit under the rug. I said let’s talk.”

It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. “Don’t worry about it. It was nothing.”

“Wasn’t nothin’ either. Something I said got you upset, and I’m pretty sure I know what. I just don’t know why.”

“And what, pray tell, do you think it was?” I ask him, my spine ramrod straight and my food long forgotten.

“I started to tell you I loved you, and you got all fifty shades of crazy.”

“I–I . . . you wouldn’t understand. You couldn’t,” I tell him, hoping he’ll drop the subject.

“How you figure?” he counters like the stubborn mule he is.

“Drake, please just drop it?”

“No way, not gonna happen. I’ve loved you since the day I met you, Azalea, and I’m tired of us dancin’ around this thing.”

His words pierce me, like an arrow straight through my heart. I can feel the pink on my cheeks as it travels down my neck toward my chest. I gasp, struggling to inhale, because his words have sucked all the oxygen from the room. Desperate for a subject change, because God forbid we talk this shit out, I deflect. “Please. I bet you don’t even remember the day we met.” Thankfully, my words come out strong, masking the trembling mess I am on the inside.