Sunday morning arrives with gray skies and the threat of rain. I change my outfit three times before settling on jeans and a sweater, hating myself for caring what I look like.
Zeke suggested the old hiking trail at Miller's Point- the one that overlooks the creek. Somewhere we used to go as kids, before everything fell apart.
I'm not sure if returning there is healing or self-destruction.
He's already waiting when I pull into the gravel lot, leaning against his truck with two thermoses of what I assume is coffee. He straightens when he sees me, and that smile—God, that smile still does things to me I don't want to acknowledge.
"Hey," he says as I approach.
"Hey."
He hands me a thermos. "Hot chocolate. Extra marshmallows."
Of course he remembers.
We start up the trail in comfortabl
