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Rory bites back a laugh. “Goodnight!”

She shuts the door before Blair can ask anything else.

Blair slowly turns toward me. “Dean.”

I grab my keys. “Truck, baby.”

“I know something is happening.”

“You know nothing.”

She laughs as I steer her toward the driveway. “I know you.”

Yeah.

She does.

And somehow, that makes me even more nervous.

* * *

The second Blair sees the lighthouse in the distance, she turns toward me.

“Dean.”

I keep my eyes on the road. “What?”

“We’re going to the lighthouse.”

“Looks that way.”

“You’re being weird again.”

“I’m driving.”

“That has nothing to do with what I said.”

I smile as Blair places her hand on my thigh.

Five months ago, I brought her here because she needed somewhere safe enough to tell me the worst parts of her life.

Tonight, I’m bringing her back because I want this place to hold something else too.

Something good.

Something ours.

We park near the lookout as the sun begins dropping toward the water. Blair climbs out of the truck and pulls her coat tighter around herself while the wind catches her hair.

“This place never gets old,” she says, looking out over the ocean.

“No.”

She turns toward me. “Are you okay?”

Apparently, I’m doing a shit job of hiding this.

“Come on.” I hold out my hand.