Page 61

Sloane: That’s encouraging, considering tomorrow hasn’t happened yet.

Hudson: Tomorrow is Future Hudson’s problem.

Sloane: I’m sure Future Hudson would like Present Hudson to stop volunteering him for things.

Hudson: He’ll manage.

A few minutes passed.

Sloane: Nervous?

I knew exactly what she meant.

Meeting.

Tomorrow.

Us.

I stared at the blinking cursor longer than I intended.

Hudson: A little.

Sloane: Me too.

Her admission was oddly reassuring. I wasn’t the only one wondering if reality could possibly compete with weeks of conversations. Our friendship existed in a space that had been untouched by everyone else. The pack knew we talked, but they didn’t know what we talked about. The private messages belonged only to us.

In our text thread, there were no responsibilities or expectations.

No emergencies.

Just us.

What if tomorrow changed that? What if we met and there was no spark? What if she thought I was boring? Too responsible. Too wrapped up in everyone else’s problems.

I hoped that wouldn’t happen. More than hoped, if I was being honest.

The next morning arrived with enough activity to convince me the reunion had secretly started sometime before dawn. Cars rolled onto the property almost continuously, children racing across the lawn before their parents finished parking.

More coolers and casseroles appeared. I helped unload luggage and direct traffic. Found extra extension cords. Located two missing name tags. Explained to a confused delivery driver that yes, he was absolutely in the correct place despite the absence of commercial buildings.

Every few minutes my eyes drifted toward the gravel drive.

Silver SUV.

No.

Blue pickup.

No.

Minivan.

Definitely not.

“Sloane isn’t due until this afternoon,” Patty murmured beside me.

“I know.”