It was close to midnight and I knew it was almost that point in the evening when people would start to go home. And I would be leaving. Alone.

Mitch hadn’t come back to the living room. I had heard him moving around upstairs in his room, his steps pacing back and forth. I wondered if something was wrong. I knew that pacing usually indicated he was upset about something. Or pissed off. But there was no way I’d go up to his room to find out.

Once upon a time I’d go crawl under the covers with Mitch and we’d cuddle and watch movies until we passed out.

“Is this seat taken?”

I startled and looked up in shock to find Mitch standing just behind me. His hands were shoved into his pockets. He looked hesitant, shifting uneasily on his feet.

“Uh. No,” I said, moving over so he could sit down.

Mitch came around and sat down beside me, our arms brushed against each other then separated. Pulled apart.

“You found my hiding spot,” I laughed. I sounded so incredibly fake.

“Sorry. I can go if you want to be alone,” Mitch offered, starting to stand up.

“No,” I said quickly, grabbing his wrist. He tensed under my grip and I hastily dropped my hand. “You don’t have to go. It was getting a little lonely out here,” I added.

Mitch sat back down, though he didn’t relax his posture. He seemed as though he were waiting to run away.

If he didn’t want to be out here, why was he staying?

“You missed out on some serious COD action earlier,” I piped up. Anything to get rid of this horrible silence.

“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.”