The scent of disinfectant hung in the air as Billy pushed through the glass doors of the Tuscaloosa hospital. Sunlight poured through the windows, catching the dust in golden streaks. Mrs. Hargrove sat behind the counter, her glasses low on her nose, pen tapping against a file. When she looked up and saw him, she sighed.
“Billy Mitchell. You’re trouble every time you walk in here,” she said, though a hint of a smile ghosted over her face.
He leaned against the counter, that half-crooked grin in place. “Just need to see her, Mrs. Hargrove. Promise I’ll have her back before anyone even knows she’s gone.”
She shook her head, muttering, “If your daddy finds out, I’ll say this was all your idea.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Billy said, following her down the hall.
The sound of footsteps echoed off the sterile walls until she stopped at a door near the end. “She’s in there. Keep it short.”
Inside, the room was quiet. She sat by the window, her knees drawn close, tracing shapes in the glass. Her eyes lifted at the sound of his voice.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Thought you might like some air.”
“You’ll get in trouble,” she murmured.
He shrugged, smiling. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Within minutes, they were slipping out the side door and into the warm afternoon. The air smelled like pine and sunshine—freedom. He opened the car door for her, and she hesitated before sliding in, the brightness making her squint after so long inside.
The drive was long and quiet, fields stretching endlessly on either side. Wind tousled her hair through the open window, and she laughed quietly for the first time in weeks. When they reached the lake, it glimmered in gold and silver under the fading light. Billy grabbed two fishing rods from the back.
“You ever been fishin’?” he asked.
She shook her head, smiling faintly.
“Then today’s your lucky day.”
They sat on the dock, the water slapping softly against the wood. He guided her hand, showing her how to cast the line. When her first try barely hit the water, he chuckled, leaning closer. “Almost,” he teased. “Here—like this.”
His fingers brushed over hers, and suddenly, the laughter faded. The world felt still. She turned toward him, and their eyes met—quiet, searching. Billy leaned in, lips meeting hers in a soft, steady kiss that made the rest of the world disappear.
When they pulled apart, she whispered “Why do you keep coming back for me?”
Billy looked out toward the water “Because you make this place feel worth stayin’ in.”
Her eyes softened. “What brought me here wasn’t pretty,” she said. “Sometimes I think I belong in there.”
He turned to her, voice low but sure. “You don’t belong in there. You belong right here.”
For a long moment, neither spoke. The sun dipped lower, painting everything in gold. She leaned into him, their hands finding each other easily. And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel trapped—just safe.