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After the clock tower incident, and Eleanor Bishop's broken promise to donate the funds for the replacement, she'd been expelled from her old college by the end of the Christmas break. "The dean called me personally," she'd explained to Clint, glowering at the wooden target outside his barn as she shot arrows at it one by one.
In the fall, Kate goes back to school. She transfers most of her credits to NYU and finds a roommate on the school's message service.
Must love dogs!!! the message says. Kate sends through a picture of Lucky in a Fourth of July hat, the striped plastic brim falling over one of his ears.
"She's a music major," Kate informs Clint over FaceTime. "She has a Pomeranian. Lucky seems to like her okay."
"That's great," Clint says.
"I guess I won't be able to visit you much, though. That kind of sucks." Kate's posture deflates at the thought. She visited the farm a handful of times through the spring and summer and thinking of it now makes her wistful. Her heart tightened with sentimental feeling at the string of memories.
Clint nods at her. His expression is flat, as if he's only half-listening, but when he speaks his voice is soft. "Don't worry. We'll figure it out."
"Yeah. Partners, right?"
"Partners," Clint agrees, even though it's been months since they've put that into practice, since the fight at Rockefeller Center. "You haven't been--"
"Superheroing?" Kate shakes her head. She'd packed up her suit, and now it sits at the bottom of an unopened cardboard box. Her bow lies under the bed, dragged out only for the occasional practice at the closest range. "I told you, I'm on hiatus."
"Good luck at school," Clint tells her.
"I don't need luck. School's kind of my thing," she answers with a grin.
Clint's eyes twinkle, his face folding into the amused smile he makes when he thinks she's said something funny. "I mean with not breaking any clock towers."
"That only happened once," Kate grumbles.
*
Kate gets most of the classes she wants at registration, and a dog toy in NYU purple for Lucky. Clint calls her the night before her first class. By the distant shine of lights that frame his face against the night sky, she can make out the dark silhouette of the barn behind him. A sudden pang of longing for the time she spent on Clint's farm passes through her like a rippling breeze. She pushes her hair out of her face, suddenly aware that she's covered in dust from a day spent unpacking boxes.
"Hey." Kate waves at the camera, wriggling her fingers at the lens.
Clint's greeting is abrupt. "Hey. I've got news."
Kate frowns at that. The last time Clint had news, his wife and kids were moving out, leaving him alone in the old farmhouse.
Clint seems to catch her shifting expression. "It's nothing bad. I'm going to be in New York for a few weeks."
"Oh!" Kate's excited squeal gets Lucky's attention. He jumps up onto the bed, pushing his nose into Kate's lap. She pets the dog distractedly, her attention still fixed on Clint's face. "Is it a vacation?"
"Job thing. I picked up some short-term consulting work."
"Is it top secret? The FBI? CIA?" Kate whispers the question, though her bedroom is empty except for her and Lucky, with no one around to hear. "Is it a superhero thing? Are you going to space?"
Clint only grimaces silently in answer, and Kate sighs.
"I guess you can't answer that."
"Nope. Well, I can answer the last thing, I'm not going to space. Just to New York."
"Is it dangerous?" Clint has told her half a dozen stories of times he almost died. Kate can't help the worry that makes her shiver.
"Not at all. I'll be going into an office and wearing a suit and everything. It's just for a few weeks."
Kate props her back against a pillow, tucking her feet under Lucky's warm, curled form. "Won't the kids miss you?"
"You ask a lot of questions," Clint answers, with gentle amusement. "It's only a short contract, and I think I'm getting on their nerves, to be honest. With the whole separation thing. I might be overcompensating."
Clint hardly ever talks about his split from Laura. He falls silent immediately, as if surprised by his own words. Kate lets the quiet rest for a moment, watching Clint's face as he pushes away some unnamed emotion.
All Clint says next is, "You'll tell me if I get on your nerves too."
"Never," Kate says earnestly, and Clint finally smiles.
"I'll see you soon."
*
Clint moves into temporary rental in a downtown Manhattan highrise. It's close enough for Kate to stop by after his first night of work, with Lucky tugging excitedly on his leash. Clint's apartment is neat and spotless, decorated in sharp lines of white and black.
"How's work?" Kate asks immediately when Clint opens the door.
"Reminding me why I retired. How's school?"
"It's fine. Different from my old school, I guess."
Clint is wearing a dark blue suit, with the tie loosened and the jacket draped over a kitchen stool. She's missed him, Kate thinks. It's a relief to see him in person, whole and close enough to touch. Wrinkles form around Clint's eyes as he frowns at her with a touch of worry. "Different good?"
"Different, different." Her old school feels a million miles away, before she'd ever found the suit, or met Clint, or found out the truth about her mother.
"I guess we both have stuff to get used to."
"Yeah. But it'll be easier now that we're close together." Clint arches his brows at that, and Kate adds, "Uh, not that you need my help with secret agent stuff."
"I didn't say I was doing secret agent stuff," Clint answers with a smile.
"Right." Lucky interrupts then, lifting a paw to pat Clint's leg and making both Clint and Kate smile. "But still. I think Lucky really missed you."
Clint looks up from scratching Lucky's ears. His gaze freezes intently on her as he says, "Yeah? I missed him too."
*
Clint has tickets to the Yankees game on a Saturday afternoon. It's a sunny fall day, and Kate doesn't have much in the way of plans besides laundry and studying.
"Cooper was supposed to be here," he explains to her in the morning. "But he says he can't make it. Too much homework."
"The Yankees?" Kate asks him. "Ugh. You're such a tourist."
That makes Clint laugh. "Guilty. Does that mean you won't come with me?"
"I'll be there," Kate promises.
The Yankees beat Boston 7-4. There's a little kid to Kate's left, excitedly showing her his baseball glove. To her left Clint sips a beer, slinging one arm around the back of her chair. She leans into the crook of his arm whenever she talks to him to make herself heard over the roar of the crowd. She thinks she's never seen him look this relaxed away from the farm.
"If you don't like the Yankees, then we can go see the Mets next time," Clint says after the game, as they stream out of the gates with the rest of the crowd. He's wearing a brand new Yankees cap, the stiff brim casting a shadow over the smile on his face.
"That's even worse," Kate tells him, then adds, "Yeah. If you want."
*
"Lucky! Shit, shit."
Kate is in the middle of a conversation with Clint, partway through a sentence, when the crash sounds, a heavy pile of books thudding to the floor one after the other. Kate spins around to find Lucky ducking back from the chaotic scene, only turning to poke his muzzle out from behind her desk chair. His good eye blinks at her worriedly.
"Everything okay?" Clint asks.
"Yeah. Lucky just knocked over some books."
"Lucky broke your bookshelf?"
"No, there's no shelf." Kate twirls her phone to point the camera at the cascade of books in front of her, sighing as she kneels to right the toppled stack. She piles them up in random order, propping her phone up on a textbook beside her. "I bought one, but I couldn't figure out how to put it together. I've just been keeping them on the floor."
"You could have asked me for help," Clint points out. "I've put together about fifty bookshelves. Maybe a hundred."
Kate chuckles in amusement, turning her gaze towards her screen so she can see Clint's deadpan face. "Oh, a hundred?"
"At least. Lila likes these books about dragons. She has a lot of them. Anyway, I'll come on the weekend. You have a toolbox?"
"No?" Kate answers with an uncertain lilt.
"You need a toolbox," Clint says firmly. "I'll buy you one."
"Thanks." Kate shifts her legs, and then groans as the freshly stacked column of books collapses into a messy heap.
*
Clint comes over as promised on a Saturday morning. By the time she exits her bedroom, yawning and clutching her first cup of coffee, Clint is introducing himself to Kate's roommate with a bland, polite smile.
"I'm Amina," Kate's roommate says in response to Clint's greeting. She turns to Kate, raising her eyebrow in a pointed expression that Kate can't work out.
It takes Clint barely to finish assembling the shelves. The paper instructions discarded, his fingers fly over the shelves as Kate falls back to watch. A familiar look of concentration furrows his brow as pieces grind against each other and slots into place. Finally Clint stands back to eye his work, shelves standing straight against the wall.
"You made that look easy," Kate complains, and Clint shrugs.
"Do you have anything else that needs fixing? Since I'm already here."
"I've got some pictures that need hanging? But you don't have to."
"It's no problem, Katie Kate."
The nickname twists Kate's mouth with a soft laugh. "No one calls me that."
"No?" Wicked amusement gleams in Clint's eyes, making her unexpectedly warm. He stands, looking around at the bare walls of Kate's small bedroom. "Where do you want me to start?"
*
The next weekend Cooper does come to visit, with both of his siblings in tow. It's pouring rain, and all the sidewalks in the city are slick and grey. Clint takes them to an arcade, where Nathaniel teams up with Kate to win a boisterous game of cornhole against his dad and brother.
"Yes!" Nate pumps his small fist before turning to Kate for a high five. Kate laughs as their palms clap together. "I beat you."
Clint grins, ruffling Nate's already messy hair. "Yeah, you got us, buddy."
He winks at Kate as they slope over to the nearest table, cluttered with half-empty baskets of French fries. Lila sits alone at the table, her face fixed on her screen.
"Lila? You still with us?"
Lila glances up from her phone at Clint's question. "Yeah, Dad."
"I beat Dad," Nate tells her.
"He sure did," Clint agrees as he sits down beside his daughter. "How's school?"
Lila looks up from her phone. Her gaze flickers in Cooper's direction. "It's fine. Cooper had his college fair last week."
"Oh yeah?"
"He's thinking of going to NYU. Like Kate."
"Oh." Kate looks at both teenagers in surprise. "Well, I'll have graduated by then. But it's a pretty good school."
"I'm not going to school in New York now that Dad lives here. No offense," he adds, making Clint's face split into a laugh.
"None taken. But I don't live here."
"You don't?" Nate asks him.
"Nah, this is temporary. I'll be back home before you know it."
Kate falls silent as the conversation turns to the list of colleges Cooper is interested in.
*
"Hey. You okay?" By the time Kate knocks on Clint's apartment door, Clint has already changed out of his suit into jeans and a sweatshirt. Lucky trots into the apartment in front of her, and waits patiently for Kate to unclip his leash.
"Why wouldn't I be okay?"
"I thought you said you had to study."
"I do." Kate straightens up and finds Clint already behind her, pulling her coat from her shoulders. His fingertips brush her neck as he eases off coat sleeves and drapes the clothing over a tall rack. She stutters slightly as she explains, "My roommate is making so much noise. I can't study in my apartment."
"Did you try going to the library?"
"Too quiet," Kate says immediately. "Can I study here? I figure it's the chillest place in town."
Clint looks amused. "Yeah. You can."
Kate immediately settles on the far side of Clint's living room couch and pulls out her laptop and notebook. She can feel Clint staring at her, his attention like a trickle of heat up the back of her neck. Eventually he sighs, and leans back on the armchair across from her, tapping at his phone screen.
Kate looks up at the sound. "What are you doing?"
"Losing to Lila in some video game," Clint answers without looking up.
Kate lapses back into silence as she turns to her work. Words and numbers stream in front of her. Finally she stretches, groaning, and moves to rifle through her backpack. She retrieves a brown paper bag, the paper wrinkling under her clutching fingers. She tugs at the opening, ripping the thin paper and filling the room with the fresh-baked scent.
Clint looks up. "What's that?"
"Dinner," Kate says. "Half of an everything bagel."
Clint's eyebrows knot in an expression she's come to recognise as disapproval, as he stares at the food in her hands. "That's not dinner. You want some of my leftovers?"
Kate's stomach rumbles loudly enough that she thinks Clint can hear it. "If you have enough?"
Clint's smile is slightly rueful. "Yeah, I have enough. I'm used to cooking for five. Here, I'll make you a plate."
*
Dinner is pasta piled too high on a plate and propped in her lap. When the plate is empty, Kate looks at the notes and textbooks still open in front of her. She yawns, her head drooping back against the couch as Clint takes the plate from her hands. "I think I'm going to have to get back to this in the morning. I'm going to go."
"You can stay," Clint says quietly. Kate blinks her eyes, drowsily looking up to find Clint still hovering over her. "I mean, if it'll help. It's late."
"I'm not exactly afraid of the dark," Kate says. She doesn't make any movement to rise from the couch, eyes falling closed even as she says, "I'll leave in a little while."
*
She wakes up with a blanket covering her, drawn up to her chin and tucked over her feet. The leather of the apartment's couch is soft under her head. Clint has turned out the light, and Kate's limbs feel weighted and warm in the dark. She can't tell how much time has passed.
She checks the time, blinking blearily at the numbers on her phone, and finds it's nearly four in the morning. Kate closes her eyes and falls asleep again.
When she wakes up again morning light is streaming through the open blinds. Clint is gone, and Lucky is nosing quietly at her feet. Kate's text messages are a string of terse instructions, of how to use Clint's programmable coffee maker, and where to find the towels.
Kate takes a shower, then swaps out yesterday's t-shirt for a button down shirt she finds in Clint's closet. It smells crisp from the wash. The shirt doesn't quite fit, and the loose fabric drapes over her wrists and hips like a light touch. It feels, unexpectedly, like being next to Clint. Kate pushes the stray thought away as she rolls up the cuffs.
"Lucky!" Kate calls the dog's name as she retrieves his leash from the kitchen counter. Lucky's head pops up in an instant, ears pricking.
"Come on," Kate says, as she juggles the leash with her school bag and Clint's spare key. "We're going to be late for class."
*
After that, Kate comes over to study almost every night. Clint makes enough dinner for both of them, and keeps Kate's favourite brand of coffee in a cupboard over the sink. He buys Lucky a dog bed. Lucky mostly prefers to sleep in Clint's armchair, curled on top of one of Clint's old, fuzzy sweaters, snoring lightly.
*
"I haven't seen you around in a while."
Kate gets home from class on a blustery November day. She finds Lucky and Amina's smaller dog curled into a crescent on Lucky's bed, and Amina on the living room couch, a ballpoint pen scratching across a page of sheet music.
Kate frowns. "I've been around. I'm just at my friend Clint's sometimes."
"Oh right. Your friend." Amina pauses, tapping the butt of her pen against her lips, then brightens. Her face creases into a smile. "Well, we're going out tomorrow, if you want to come. Me and Lia and Jordan, probably some other people too. You should come."
"I'd love to," Kate says immediately, then frowns a second later. "Wait, tomorrow? I told Clint I'd watch the World Series game with him. He's going to buy snacks."
"I didn't know you liked baseball."
"I don't," Kate admits, making Amina's eyebrows rise. "It's kinda boring. But Clint likes it. And he doesn't really have anyone to watch the game with, so I said I'd come over." Kate pauses uncertainly, feeling as if she should say something else. "Thanks for the invite, though."
"No problem," Amina says as she buries her face in her papers again.
*
The baseball game goes eleven innings, winding on until nearly midnight. Kate falls asleep on the firm pillow of Clint's shoulder. The harmonic drone of the announcer's voice rumbles on about batting averages as she dozes.
Clint wakes her up a half hour later. He gently nudges her arm with his hand. "Hey. Kate."
Her eyelids flutter open.
"You better get going if you're heading home."
"Oh." Kate lifts her head from Clint's shoulder, blinking as his face comes into hazy focus. The subway feels light years away from the plesant comfort of Clint's apartment. "Can I stay?"
Clint's expression tightens into something like a frown. His hand is still resting on her bicep, the thick fingers resting lightly on her skin. He pulls away. "Of course," he says quietly.
Kate glances over at the television, now playing the local news. It'll be cloudy tomorrow, the weatherman informs them at a high volume, as he points to a spot on the map. Clint clicks it off. "Good night, Kate."
"Good night," Kate answers sleepily. Her mouth goes round for a moment as Clint rises, the couch creaking at the change. "Hey, which team won?"
"I'll tell you in the morning," Clint says, and Kate blows out an amused huff.
*
They watch the final game together two days later. Clint orders takeout, and mixes up a blender of frozen strawberry margaritas.
Kate's head gets pleasantly dizzy, her skin flushing. She sits beside Clint on his couch with her bare feet tucked underneath her.
During the seventh inning stretch, Clint turns to her. The hesitation he makes before he speaks passes in a split second, so quickly that Kate almost doesn't notice it. "I've got some news about my contract," he says.
There's a sudden hollow sensation in Kate's belly. Her heart beats a little too fast as she asks, "Oh. You're going home?"
Clint's mouth turns down in a flicker of irritation. That makes sense, Kate thinks dimly. This was always temporary. Clint doesn't live in New York. Clint doesn't even particularly like living in New York, or know many people here besides Kate. It makes sense that his time in the city would be ending, that he would want to go home.
Her thoughts churn heavily. Kate almost doesn't catch it when Clint answers, "Actually, they're extending the contract. I'll be here until at least January."
"Oh!" Kate says, then struggles to dampen her enthusiasm when Clint frowns at her. "I mean, I know you miss your family. But I'll be here to keep you company."
She smiles. Clint doesn't say anything. His expression shifts to something impenetrable, and then he nods.
It's nearly twenty minutes later when Clint asks, "Kate, what happened to that guy?"
Kate peers into her nearly empty glass, and then up at Clint. "Which guy?"
"I don't know, the one with the tattoos. You showed me a picture."
Kate thinks over the description, nose scrunching, before she answers. "Jordan? Nothing happened to him. We hung out a couple times, then we both got busy."
"You could call him."
Kate's eyes snap towards Clint, frowning in honest confusion. "I can introduce you? If you liked the tattoos. Why are you so worried about Jordan? I haven't mentioned him in weeks."
"It just seems like you can't be making any friends at school." Clint speaks in slow, stuttery bursts, as if he's considering the speech as he speaks. "You spend all your time here."
"I thought we were having fun."
"We are, we do, but look. You're young--"
"I'm not that young," Kate interrupts with a scowl.
"You're very young," Clint continues patiently. "And college is a once in a lifetime experience, right? You don't need to be wasting all of it with me."
The feeling of hurt barrels into Kate like a full-body punch, knocking the wind out of her. She feels tears pricking at her eyes. She blinks them stubbornly away. "Are you telling me to leave?"
"Of course not. I'm just saying, maybe it would be for the best if you--"
"Left?" Kate has a sudden sparking flash of an image, Clint standing in front of her on a dark rooftop. Go home, Kate. Tears spring to her eyes at the memory. "How come your version of helping me always involves pushing me away?"
A frustrated breath hisses through Clint's teeth. "Kate. You're not hearing what I'm saying."
"No, I heard you. If you want me to leave, then I'll go. Lucky!"
Lucky trots up, making a soft whining sound at the tension in Kate's voice. She pets the dog's head, letting her fingers linger for a moment in the dog's warm fur before letting go. "I guess I'll see you around. Sometime."
"You don't have to go," Clint says, but he doesn't make a move to stop her as she rises.
Kate pretends not to hear him. She shoves her arms into her jacket and blindly grabs the rest of her belongings from the hallway before stomping out of the apartment.
She doesn't stop until she's on the sidewalk below, clenching Lucky's leash like a lifeline.
*
Clint sends her a picture the next day. It's a crisp, blue Mets hat, sitting on Clint's kitchen counter.
We'll do that game sometime.
Sometime, Kate thinks. As olive branches go, it's pretty weak. Kate thinks it over for a long time before she finally texts back a single word. Okay.
*
Jordan has six tattoos, and close-cropped hair dyed dark blue. It was red the last time she saw him, Kate thinks distantly.
"Here you go," Jordan says in his cheerful California accent, as he slides into the booth beside her holding two glasses of beer. He pushes one towards her, and the ice cold condensation on the glass pricks at her fingers. "Glad to see you around again."
"I've been around," she protests.
"Could have fooled me," Jordan says. A small expression of confusion appears on his face that's instantly wiped away with a smile. "But hey, doesn't matter. You're here now, right?"
"Yeah," Kate agrees. She listens to a winding tale about Jordan's hometown, before he asks, "What are you doing for Thanksgiving?"
"Thanksgiving?" Kate repeats, before quickly counting the calendar in her head. "Oh. That's pretty soon. Nothing, I guess." My dad died during the invasion. My mom's in prison. It wasn't the kind of thing you said to someone you had only met a couple of times.
"Oh, that's cool." Jordan nodded gamely. "I'll probably just be studying the whole time anyway.
"Me too," Kate agreed, as Jordan began a story about his favourite professor.
*
"Wow, two weeks in a row." Amina's girlfriend Lia waves cheerfully as Kate slides into the bar booth on a crowded Thursday night.
"Kate broke up with her boyfriend," Amina explains from beside her.
Kate's eyes go wide in surprise at the description. "We didn't break up. I mean, he wasn't my boyfriend."
Lia shrugs, putting her head on Amina's shoulder. "That's cool. Labels are stupid."
"No, he really wasn't--" Kate sighs, and breaks off. "What are you guys doing for Thanksgiving?"
The rest of the night passes in a blur. Kate orders a second beer, and then a third. Lia orders a round of too-sweet shots, and Kate drinks those too, her lips pursing at the aftertaste.
The room begins to spin, fusing into a dreamy meld of laughter and loud music. Kate grows inebriated and restless, shifting against the worn, wooden bench until finally she stands.
"I'm going to go," she announces, and everyone at the table looks up.
"Already?" Lia asks. "It's early.
"I've got work to do in the morning," Kate lies. Her words slur slightly as she makes the excuse.
"I'll walk you home," Jordan says.
Kate shakes her head, the whole room swimming in her vision with the force of the movement. "I'll be fine. See you later," Kate says, and hurries out into the chilly night.
*
Kate stumbles up the steps from the subway station and into Clint's building. Her thoughts begin to sharpen in the biting November air. By the time she emerges from the elevator on Clint's floor she feels nearly clear-eyed.
She knocks on Clint's door with a loud clattering rattle. When there's no answer, she pulls out her phone.
"Hey." The phone only rings for half a second. "Hang on, there's someone outside."
The door swings open. Clint is standing there holding his phone, still wearing his workday suit. "Kate?"
"Hi." Kate waves weakly. "I know you told me to go away, but look. That was a terrible plan. I've come up with a better one."
"Are you drunk?" Clint asks her, after a moment.
"Yes. No," Kate stumbles over her answer, then squints as she takes a closer look at Clint. There is a rip in his shirt, the white fabric turned scarlet with blood. The tear exposes a neat line of fresh stitches. There's a bruise blooming purple on his cheek. "Are you hurt?"
"Had an incident today," Clint admits, as Kate's hands tug at his shirt to examine the injury.
"Come inside," he murmurs, patient at the touch of her hands on his torso. The door clicks closed at Kate's back. "It's not as bad as it looks."
"You needed stitches," Kate shoots back, accusingly. "And you smell like gunpowder. I thought you worked in an office."
"I do. I just had an unexpected day." Clint's hands curl around Kate's fingers. "What about you? It sounded like you had some kind of speech ready."
Kate feels her face heat and redden. "It wasn't a whole speech."
Clint's gaze is intent on her face. "No?"
"No. More like a, um--" Kate takes a breath, a step forward, and then she kisses him. Kate's lips fall against Clint's before the thought is fully formed, the idea of kissing Clint becoming Clint's warm mouth against hers. Electricity surges through her, hot and sparking when their mouths meet. Clint smells like he's been in a fight, but underneath that he smells like himself, spicy and familiar. Kate's heart hammers too quickly in her chest as she breathes him in. "That," she whispers, finally.
"I see." Clint looks a little dazed.
Kate keeps talking, delivering a string of words into the stubbled plane of Clint's jaw. "I missed you," she mumbles, sighing. "Like, a lot." She's less hesitant when she kisses him again. Her tongue slips into Clint's mouth. His lips fall open. Kate sways a little against him, and Clint solid hands catch her without missing a beat. His grip wraps around her waist, steadying her. She can feel the rough press of his fingertips inside her coat, over the thin sweater she's wearing.
Clint pulls away, but doesn't let go of her waist. "I think we should table this until you're sober."
"I'm fine," Kate protests. She immediately contradicts her words by losing her balance, crashing once more into Clint's arms.
"Just the same," Clint says reasonably. "I'll get you a blanket. Or a cab."
"Blanket," Kate answers. Clint nods, letting his hands fall from her waist.
"Coming right up."
*
She thinks she missed Clint's couch. Kate pulls the familiar soft blanket up to her chin, resting her head on a pillow that smells a little like Clint, and quickly falls asleep.
*
When Kate wakes, Clint's apartment smells like coffee and bacon. He props a full cup on the living room table when Kate stirs, and moves silently until Kate is fully awake.
"There's breakfast."
Kate screws up her face, recoiling from the mention of food. "Maybe later. Thanks."
"Do you remember anything that happened last night?"
Kate groans. "I remember Two Dollar Tap night."
"Anything else?"
"I kissed you. And you kissed me back." Her eyes go wide as she remembers, and she says the last with a note of accusation in her voice.
Clint doesn't deny it. He props himself on the rounded arm of the couch, staring at her. The bruise on his face is a violent stroke of colour below his eye. Kate has to resist the urge to reach out and gently caress the injury. "I thought maybe we should talk about where that came from."
"It didn't come out of two dollar beers, if that's what you're asking."
Clint shifts in a way that's almost imperceptible, his shoulders relaxing with the movement.
"It was--I missed you. I couldn't stop missing you. And if you're going to give me another speech about how we both need to hang out with other people, you can skip it."
"You're young," Clint begins.
Kate glares at him. "You keep saying that."
"I just don't want you to be wasting all your time with me." Clint's voice dips like a low plea.
"It's not wasted--" Kate groans, hearing her voice rise, and starts again. "Look, I just really missed you. If you want to be a grumpy old man that lives alone on a farm, or in a rented
condo, that's weird. But fine, I guess. But don't keep pushing me away just because you think you should."
"Okay." Clint takes a deep breath. His voice is unexpectedly shaky when he speaks, eyes trained directly on her as he makes the confession. "I don't actually like being alone, no."
"And you kissed me back," Kate insists. She moves closer to him, balancing herself with one foot on the ground to keep their faces at level height.
"I did," he agrees.
Kate waits. The moment holds like a long, drawn-out breath. Finally, she asks, "Are you going to kiss me again?"
Clint's fingers land lightly on the back of her hand. His mouth catches hers in a gentle, roving kiss, lips and tongue scraping together. Jittery nervousness swells in Kate and then settles into a warm, blooming haze of affection. Her hands rise to cradle Clint's jaw and hold him close to her.
"Katie," Clint whispers against her mouth.
Kate breaks the kiss and wrinkles her nose. "No one calls me that."
*
Thanksgiving comes on in a rush, the amber-turned leaves stripped from the trees one by one. Clint drives through the gates of the farm and parks in front of the porch, tires crunching over gravel.
"I've never cooked a turkey before," Kate admits, as she pulls her suitcase out of the car trunk. The farmhouse looks exactly as it did the last time she saw it, sitting peaceful and silent off the country road. "Or stuffing. Or a pie."
"We'll figure it out," Clint says, with a shrug. "And if we don't, we can take the kids into town and get meatloaf from the diner.
"I've never had meatloaf, either."
Clint stops in front of the farmhouse door. He looks at her, and a relaxed smile touches his features. "It'll be a weekend full of firsts, then."
"Yeah." Kate kisses him. Lucky barks loudly. A startled squirrel skitters down a tree trunk and through the grass. Clint's gaze is warm on her face, as he turns the lock open and pushes inside.