She’d been thinking about him a lot lately. He kept coming back, again and again. She thought of him in the morning, when the air was crisp and smelled like fall. She thought of the long drive through painted mountains, the smell of cinnamon in small coffee shops, and the plans for forever and a day. She thought of him at 3:30 on Saturdays, when his team took the field, and every time she found a project on Pinterest that required more than stitches and glue. When it started, she thought she missed the mountains. And then it had been the feeling. But now—now, she was pretty sure she just missed him.