End Game
“You never cry.”
“I’ve been crying a lot lately,” I admit with a laugh.
Archer tightens his hold on me. “Whatever you do, don’t bring up endangered species.”
*
“I’m having deja vu.”
Archer pushes off the ground, sending the glider back. The heat of the day hasn’t worn off yet, despite it being after dark. The sounds of a country night surround us, and the dogs run and sniff around the yard.
“We sat here and talked,” I say, resting my head on Archer’s shoulder. “That night I spilled the drinks on myself at Getaway and you took me home.”