Page 122 of Josephine and Clay

“I’ll walk you home,” I say.

Her eyes flick to my leg. “You shouldn’t.”

“I can walk.”

“Clay.”

“I’m not asking.”

“That’s unfortunate because I’m not accepting.”

“It isn’t like you live far.”

She stares at me, deciding whether arguing is worth the energy. I can tell the second she gives up. “Fine,” she says. “But slowly.”

I tip my hat. “Yes, ma’am.”

Saying goodbye to my family takes longer than it should because Mom notices everything, Boone smirks because he knows something, Faith looks delighted, Rose looks soft, and Nash whispers, “Don’t fall over trying to be charming.”

I tell him to shut up.

Then I walk Josie home.

Slowly.

The town is quieter away from the rodeo grounds. Music trails behind us, fading with each awkward step. Streetlights shine over the sidewalk. It smells of dust and cut grass and the faint sweetness of pie clinging to her somehow.

Josie walks beside me, matching my pace without making it obvious.

“You’re pretending you’re not slowing down for me.”

“I’m not pretending.”

I cock a brow. “You are.”

“I’m enjoying the scenery.”

“It’s a road.”

“A very scenic road.”

I huff. “You’re bad at lying.”

“I’m excellent at lying.”

“No. You’re excellent at withholding. Different skill.”

She looks over, and respect flashes in her eyes. “That’s annoyingly observant.”

“I have my moments.”

“I’ll document this one.”

We walk another few steps. Then she says, “You seemed lighter tonight.”

I glance at her. “Did I?”

“For a while.”