Chapter 53

You meet his eyes, like diamonds tonight, sparkling and clear. Beautiful, the planes of his face, the curve of his jaw, the ridge of his nose. The way his brow wrinkles when he looks at you, waiting for an answer. The way his lower lip pouts out a little when he sniffles.

“The bus station?” you ask.

He nods, shivering because he’s damp and it’s cold. Getting colder the more you think about it—you like rainstorms like this.

With a sad smile, you tell him, “That’s on the other side of town, a few miles from here, that way. I’m sorry.”

When you point ahead into the rain, his face falls. “Damn,” he murmurs. “How far?”

You’re not really sure. “Too far to walk in this.”