Same Time Next Week. (Ch 67)

It was a perfect night. A cool breeze wound through the car, carrying the scent of freshly mowed grass, flowering trees, and a trace of ocean salt. The interior was barely lit, creating a canvas of shadows and shades of grey. Jackson hoped the absence of harsh lighting might make it easier for Shelby to finally open up. After all they'd been through, he'd never been so eager to hear someone's story.

He settled deeper into his seat, preparing for what he knew would be an emotional journey. Beside him, Shelby let out that sultry chuckle he'd grown to love. "I don't think I've ever told the whole story," she said, her voice carrying a hint of nervousness. "I'm not even sure where to start."

Her hand trembled in his, and he squeezed it tight. "I want to know everything. Forward and backward, up and down, all of it."

Shelby opened her mouth, words tumbling out as if she hoped they'd arrange themselves into sense. "For starters, Shelby Morris doesn't exist.”