Page 61 of What Remains of Grace

“Electrical’s important,” Travis said, “would be a shame if the lights were all wrong.”

Cole shook his head, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him. “Go home, man. I’ll lock up.”

Emmie had teased him too, once, in passing, when he ran into her in the kitchen.

“So, when are you taking Jenna Bennett on an actual date?” she’d asked, deadpan, grabbing a popsicle.

He nearly swallowed his own tongue. “No—that’s not—”

She’d only shrugged. “If you break her heart, I’ll egg your truck.”

He believed her. And weirdly . . . respected her for it.

Piano night hadn’t helped.

He’d planned on blending into the crowd, watching her from a safe distance, leaving before he could slip. Instead, she’d walked across the sand toward him in the fading light, bare feet and wind-tangled hair, and he’d felt something inside him shift like a loose board giving way.

She’d stood shoulder to shoulder with him while “Tiny Dancer” floated over the beach, her arm brushing his in those easy, accidental ways that never felt accidental to him.

And then she’d laughed at something he’d said, really laughed, and it had taken everything in him not to stay in that moment too long.

She’d stood so close that he could smell her sunscreen, the light, sweet kind she used that reminded him of childhood summers. Every so often, her hip would bump his, sending a quiet jolt through him that he pretended not to feel.

He’d kept his hands shoved deep in his pockets the entire night, terrified that if he let them hang at his sides, he’d reach for her without thinking, just to feel the reassurance of her shoulder brushing his again.

He’d checked his watch like a coward and forced himself to leave before the dark settled in. Before he could reach for something he wasn’t supposed to want.

But the truth was, he hadn’t stopped thinking about the shape she made in that dusk light.

Emmie’s teasing stuck with him more than it should have, though, not because she was wrong, but because she might accidentally scare Jenna. He overheard her teasing Jenna sometimes, too. Saw the texts come in while they were out together.

By the time he finished “checking” the fixtures, the crew was long gone, and the sky had deepened. Crickets had taken over where nail guns and radios left off. The bakery felt different at night, quieter, more intimate. It reminded him of how Caladesi Island State Park had felt when the crowds thinned, and it was just the water, the two of them, and a cooler between their boards.

Dangerous territory.

First Friday had been worse, or better, depending on the angle.

He’d told himself it would be crowded enough to keep things safe. Public. Loud. Easy to disappear into.

But then she’d shown up by the Tarpon fountain wearing that soft blue top that made her eyes stand out, and he’d gone quiet in a way Travis would’ve roasted him for.

They’d walked side by side through the vendor stalls, sharing the same cone of fries like it wasn’t the most intimate thing he’d done in years.

Her phone had buzzed. He’d glimpsed Emmie’s name and some kind of insinuation. Jenna had waved it off with a groan, embarrassed.

But he wasn’t relieved.

If anything, it rattled him. It was proof that all the effort he’d put into appearing indifferent was clearly not working.

He turned off the last bank of lights and stepped out into the warm evening. Across the small strip of yard, Jenna stood on the porch, one hand on the railing, a glass of something cold sweating on the rail beside her. Her hair was down, curling at the ends from the humidity, and she’d changed into one of those thin, worn T-shirts that had long since lost their fight with gravity, clinging to her in ways that were not helpful to his self-control.

She looked so at home there, it hurt. With one hip braced against the railing, bare feet tucked under her, and the breeze lifting strands of her hair. The porch light behind her framed her like a photograph he didn’t know how to stop looking at.

“Thought you’d left an hour ago,” she said as he crossed the yard. Her voice was somewhere between amused and curious.

“Lost an argument with a dimmer switch,” he said.

“One of you seems to be glowing just fine.”