Chapter 24: The Walk Home

The quiet drive back down the winding curves of Lookout Ridge was wonderfully serene, an easy, contented silence that required no artificial filling from idle chatter or blaring radio music. James kept one hand resting lightly on the gear shift while the other firmly held hers across the center console, their fingers tightly intertwined as if letting go even for a single second might shatter the spell of the evening. When he parked the truck in front of her house, he walked her all the way to the porch steps, lingering under the yellow bug light just like they used to do after late-night bike rides.