Epilogue # 2
Will
Liam and Olive’s reception is at my bar, and it’s packed to the rafters.
Practically the whole damn town showed up and for once, I don’t even mind the crowd.
The place is lit up soft, string lights casting a warm glow over old wood and full hearts.
Mason jars clink, boots scuff the floor, laughter spills like whiskey.
But I’m not drinking it in.
I’m scanning the room. Again.
Not for trouble.
For her.
Liam and Olive are dancing like there’s nobody else in the room. They move like they’ve waited years for this moment. Hell, maybe they have. Sam and Charlie join them, both of them grinning like fools, and the whole damn floor swells with happiness.
Still, my gaze keeps drifting.
And then I spot her.
She’s standing along the edge of the wall, one hand curled around a lemonade, her dress soft and summery, her eyes locked on the dance floor but she’s not really watching.
Not with her eyes, anyway. There’s something wistful there.
Like she’s remembering something she never got to have.
Or maybe something she let go of too soon.
I’m moving before I can stop myself.
“Hey,” I say, bumping my shoulder gently against hers.
She startles slightly, then blinks up at me with that half-smile that’s always a little guarded.
“Phern?”
“Sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “Got lost in my thoughts.” She pauses, then nods toward the room. “You did a good job decorating the bar.”
Her voice is light, but there’s something under it, like maybe she’s been putting on an act all night.
I glance at her, and my mouth tilts.
“You make it sound like I hung every strand of lights myself.”
“Well, didn’t you?”
“Maybe,” I shrug. “Doesn’t matter. Still didn’t get your attention until now.”
Her eyes flash to mine, surprised. And then just for a second she smiles for real.
It damn near knocks the breath out of me.
“So, what do you have planned tomorrow?” I ask, trying to sound casual even as my eyes won’t leave hers.
Her brows lift, confused.
“For the farmer’s market,” I clarify, taking a sip of beer like it’ll steady the way my pulse just kicked.
“Oh.” She hesitates, then tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. “I won’t be there.”
That stops me cold. “What do you mean? You’re always there.”
She doesn’t answer right away. Just looks past me to the dance floor where Olive and Liam are wrapped in each other like a damn fairytale and then turns fully toward me.
“I won’t be there this time,” she says, voice quieter now.
“Why? Got a date?” I ask with a laugh that doesn’t feel right the second it leaves my mouth.
She flinches. Just a flicker but it hits me like a punch.
“I suppose that would be funny to you,” she says, her smile brittle. “After finding my list.”
My heart kicks hard in my chest. “Come on, kiddo— I didn’t mean it like that.”
She steps back, eyes dark. “You did. And it’s fine. I get it. I’ll always be Sam’s little sister to you.”
“Phern—”
“I won’t be at the market,” she cuts in, lifting her chin, “because I’ll be in Vegas.”
Vegas.
The word lands like a dropped glass. I can feel it shatter between us.
And suddenly, that damn list flashes in my mind. The one I found under her barstool when she left the other night.
Get drunk.
Get kissed.
Get laid in Vegas.
“Phern,” I say, the word ripped from my chest.
But she doesn’t let me finish.
“Don’t worry, Will.” She smiles, but it’s sharp now, cut from glass and pride. “I’ll be sure to use protection.”
And then she turns and walks away calm and graceful, like she didn’t just upturn my entire fucking world.