“Oh yeah? Well damn. Maybe next time,” he commented, sounding a little distracted.

“Sure,” I said and then the damn quiet descended again.

All I could hear was the crackling of embers and the ragged sound of my breathing. Or was it Mitch? Perhaps it was both of us struggling to breathe through all the tension.

“Do you feel the déjà vu too?” he asked softly, looking into the fire. The flames leapt upwards, towards the sky, the smoke heavy and thick in the air.

“Yeah, it does feel a lot like old times,” I agreed just as softly.

Then nothing. We had become very bad at this whole small talk thing.

“Are you glad to be back?” I asked him. It seemed a safe enough topic.

Mitch shrugged. “I’m not sure yet,” he answered truthfully, glancing at me from the corner of his eyes.

“Well, maybe we could just sit awhile and figure it out,” I suggested lightly, all the while my stomach churned.

This had the earmarks of normal. But it was anything but. Once we would have been laughing. Talking about all kinds of things. Mitch would have slung an arm around my shoulders and I would have leaned into him. Natural. Perfect.

But now we sat rigid, unsure how to be in each other’s company when so much between us had changed. All I knew was that I wanted—no, I needed—to find some way to exist with him.

I missed him.

More than I thought it possible to miss anyone or anything.

Being here, at Garrett’s house, with him reinforced for me how truly difficult it was going to be having him back in Bakersville and not having him in my life.

I wasn’t thinking about Sophie or the fact that he was with someone else. I wasn’t thinking about how uncomfortable it was to be around him and not be with him. We had sat on the couch and played video games together and I just missed him.

I missed Gracie and Mitch.

Mitch and Gracie.

The two people who had been friends first and lovers later.

We hadn’t always been healthy or functional, but we were us.

And that mattered more than anything else.

I knew we could never go back to what we were. That ship had sailed.

But I needed him badly. I needed anything he was willing to give me.

Did that make me pathetic? Perhaps. But I really didn’t care.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” Mitch finally agreed, giving me a smile that was a little less pained. I felt some relief in that.

He leaned back against the bench and appeared to relax marginally.

Find a neutral topic. Something to talk about. Keep him here. Keep him talking. Just for tonight.

“Have you been out to see your parents yet?” I asked.

Rebuild the connection. One brick at a time.

Mitch shook his head. “Not yet. My sister is coming down tomorrow with my niece. I’ll be expected to be there of course. Though honestly, I wouldn’t miss it.” He was grinning and that felt good.

“I didn’t realize your sister had a baby. So you’re an uncle now. That’s an awesome responsibility. You up for the task?” I teased. Yes, I was actually teasing him. And he wasn’t scowling or telling me to take a hike. Progress!

“Oh, I plan on being the uncle who lets her watch rated R movies when she’s thirteen and sneaks her sugar after bedtime. I’ll be the cool uncle,” he said, puffing his chest out with pride.

I laughed. “Oh I can see it now. You’ll be taking her to get her first tattoo in no time.”

“Hey, I’ve never even gotten a tattoo,” he pointed out.

“Oh, I know. No matter how much I tried to talk you into getting that rose on your butt cheek.”

Mitch let out a sharp bark of laughter that took me by surprise. It seemed to take him by surprise too. He scratched the back of his neck and gave me a wry look. “There were some things even you, Gracie Cook, couldn’t talk me into. No matter how persuasive you were. Or how much I wanted to give you whatever you asked for.”

And we took a detour back into awkward.

I cleared my throat and struggled to get us back to less uneasy territory. “So with all this free time, what will you be doing? Maybe you could take up shuffleboard. Hey how about archery?” I suggested with an insane little giggle. My voice sounded overly bright. I really needed to tone it down a bit. I came across as mildly manic.

Mitch cocked an eyebrow. “Uh, no I think I’ll pass on the shuffleboard.”

“Yeah, who likes shuffleboard? I mean except for my grandma. She’s a shuffleboard freak.”

Shut up, Gracie! Just shut the hell up!

“Huh. I’ll make sure not to challenge your grandma to a shuffleboard competition anytime soon. Is this the same grandma that pinched my butt while your parents grilled me about my lack of gainful employment?” he asked and I snorted.

“Crap, I forgot about that!” I exclaimed, covering my eyes with my hand in mortification.

Mitch had come by my parents’ house to pick me up from dinner once. I had sent him a frantic SOS asking him to save me from the horror that was my parents and extended family.

Mitch had come inside and attempted to make polite conversation with my mom and dad. My parents were cold and dismissive, nothing new there. They had asked him why he didn’t get a real job and I had wanted to slap them both.

My grandmother on the other hand had already downed a half a bottle of wine and proceeded to comment on his “tight bottom” and gave it a pinch in full view of my grandfather, who continued to smoke his cigar and talk about politics.

“I thought she was going to slip me her phone number. She gave me a wink as we were leaving if I remember correctly,” Mitch mused.

“Oh my god,” I groaned.

“I don’t know, maybe she was trying to get her grand-cougar on.”

“G—Grand-cougar?” I sputtered.

Mitch’s face split into a wide grin and he laughed loudly. “Your face is priceless!”

I smacked his knee with my hand, trying to ignore how good it felt to touch him. “I’m going to need more therapy just to erase the thought of my grandmother grand-cougaring.” I shuddered.

“Even grandmas need lovin’, G.”

He used the nickname again. My heart fluttered wildly and my stomach did a few somersaults.

“Okay, enough already! My poor brain can’t take the images!” I poked my fingers in my ears.

Mitch pulled my hands down. “I’ll stop scarring you. I promise,” he said and I realized instantly how close we were. His continued to lightly hold my hands in my lap where they had dropped after he had pulled them from my face. I wanted to curl my fingers and intertwine them with his.

But I couldn’t.

His hands weren’t mine to hold.

I pulled away and wiped my suddenly damp palms on my jeans. “So, I guess we should go back inside. The fire seems to be dying down.” I motioned towards the bonfire, which was barely smoldering.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cold out here. I should probably call Sophie back,” Mitch remarked blandly. Her name was said as though to make a point.

I get it, Mitch. I really do.

“Yeah, you don’t want her wondering where you are.” I realized I sounded as though I were chewing on broken glass. Brittle and bleeding.

Mitch got to his feet and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He started to walk away but then stopped, turning back to face me.

“I know things have been…well…bad between us. This past weekend got a little out of control, I think,” he said, not quite meeting my eyes.

“Yeah, it did. I guess we both had stuff that we wanted to say, but that wasn’t the place to do it,” I agreed, clenching my hands together in my lap—the hands that he had so briefly held between his own.

“We used to talk about everything,” Mitch said quietly.

“And now we don’t talk about anything,” I continued just as quietly.

We were both silent, the only noise was that of the crackling fire and the soft strains of laughter drifting down from the house.