18. Ari
EIGHTEEN
ARI
The late-afternoon sun clung stubbornly to the sky, turning everything golden.
Not scorching, but warm enough that every surface radiated with leftover heat.
The scent of charcoal, grilled meat, and melting frosting hung thick in the air, mixed with the sharper bite of sunscreen and the faint sweetness of cotton candy.
Main Street had been shut down since noon.
Red, white, and blue bunting drooped from lampposts and booth awnings.
Kids ran wild, sticky-fingered and barefoot, plastic pinwheels spinning in their hands as they weaved between vendors and folding chairs.
Laughter and music drifted everywhere—someone had set up speakers, and old Springsteen tracks were doing their best to compete with the chatter of the crowd.
At the far end of Main Street, just past the snow cone stand and the flag bunting, the VFW building stood. Its side wall blank and sun-faded. The same wall Mrs. Evans had mentioned for a mural—if the council approved .
They never did.
Something about timing. Or budget. Or too many opinions and not enough consensus.
Classic Briar Creek.
I wasn’t sure what I felt, staring at that wall now. Relieved, maybe. Disappointed, definitely. But there was something else too—something quieter, harder to name.
A part of me had been scared the wall would be covered by someone else’s vision. That I’d see bold shapes and colors and feel the ache of being left behind. But what I didn’t expect was how strange it would feel to see it still untouched.
I wasn’t sure which was worse—that I’d said no because I was afraid, or that I’d convinced myself I had nothing worth painting in the first place.
But I was painting now — over at the firehouse, inside the rec room . It wasn’t the same scale, wasn’t public. But it was something. I’d picked up a brush. I’d started .
Daddy had told me to do it scared.
And maybe I still was. But I wasn’t anchored by doubt the way I used to be.
That VFW wall would still be there.
And maybe one day, the council would approve, I’d be asked again, and I’d be ready—not just to paint it, but to believe I could.
I gave the wall one last glance, then turned back toward the square. I couldn’t stand there forever, staring at what hadn’t happened. Not when life was still unfolding in loud, vivid color all around me.
I’d already spent the past hour weaving in and out of the crowd.
I helped a little girl pick out a balloon that matched her pinwheel and listened to Mr. Bledsoe from the hardware store talk for ten whole minutes about his smoker ribs.
I helped Kyree talk Jon into entering the pie-eating contest, and high-fived a dozen sugar-rushed kids who wanted to show off their face paint.
I even got roped into judging a three-legged race, which ended with me and some poor middle-schooler both flat on our backs.
I watched, amused, as Sage dragged Layton into a blindfolded water balloon toss, which he lost in spectacular fashion—soaked shirt, dented ego, the whole thing.
I smiled through it all, played my part, let the town wrap around me.
But every few minutes, my eyes would scan the edge of the crowd.
Not for anyone in particular.
Except maybe the tall, broad-shouldered someone I hadn’t seen since yesterday—the same someone who had coaxed me through my first driving lesson, who had seen me in lace and then dropped to his knees like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I spotted Sage standing beside our mom, both holding what looked like full plates and chatting with Mr. Alvarez from the Parks Committee, who had his clipboard tucked under one arm.
I was too far to make out the conversation, but close enough to tell my mom was gesturing with her fork like she was making a point.
A little farther down, Jon, Kyree, and Layton crowded around a game booth, caught up in something loud and ridiculous.
Kyree threw his hands up in exaggerated protest, pointing toward the prize table while the other two doubled over laughing.
Whatever they were arguing about, it was clearly life or death.
I looked around and tried to feel the way everyone else looked—happy, relaxed, like nothing in the world was complicated. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was standing just outside of it all, not sure if I should step closer or keep my distance.
A moment later, Cael appeared at my side, camera in hand, already snapping photos before he even said hello.
“There he is,” he said with dramatic flair. “Smile.”
I tried to block the lens with my hand. “I will dropkick that thing.”
“Rude,” he said, snapping anyway. “You should be immortalized. You’re out here looking like Fourth of July Thirst Trap Barbie.” A moment passed and he lowered the camera. “You okay?”
I nodded, which wasn’t a lie, but not the full truth either.
He didn’t press, just tilted his head and gave me space—the kind of silence that only comes from someone who knows you well enough to wait.
The sun had dipped. The reds glowed. The silhouettes shimmered slightly from the heat rising off the wall. I looked at it instead of him.
“I kissed Reid,” I said quietly.
I didn’t say the other word—the one that rose in my throat anytime Reid touched me like I was his. The one that curled in my chest when he whispered, Good boy.
Cael knew. Of course he did. We’d talked about dynamics before, about the kind of relationship I hoped I’d find someday. He was the one who'd handed me my first damn kink zine and said, “I think this might be your thing.”
But this wasn’t theory. This was Reid. My brother’s best friend. The man who’d kissed me like he didn’t care who we ruined.
Cael’s lips twitched. “So... are we talking about Reid? Or Daddy Reid?”
I groaned. “You’re the worst.”
“Nah,” he said, leaning in slightly. “Just trying to figure out which version of him you’re in deep with.”
I looked back toward the crowd. “Same man.” I swallowed. “Just... different gravity.”
Cael didn’t joke after that. Just nodded, his expression softening. “Okay,” he said finally. “You wanna unpack that?”
A dry laugh escaped before I could stop it. “We’ve been... messing around. Not sex. Not all the way. Just... kissing. Touching. And these long silences that feel like they mean something.”
That got the corner of his mouth to twitch, but he didn’t say anything. Just turned toward me fully.
“I like him, Cael.”
The words sounded easier than they felt. Simpler. I didn’t correct myself, but the truth sat heavy in my chest.
I loved him.
And I was in love with him.
I’d known it for a while now.
I hadn’t meant to. But it had happened anyway, slow in some places and all at once in others. I loved the way he steadied me without even realizing it. The way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. The way he held back, not because he didn’t care, but because he did.
And I hadn’t said any of that out loud. Maybe because loving Daddy made me vulnerable in a situation that felt undefined. One where I didn’t know if he’d ever let himself want me openly. Where I didn’t know if he could.
The music from the speakers changed to Maroon 5. Kids screamed from somewhere behind the snow cone truck.
Cael looked at me for a long moment and said quietly, “You can call it a like if you want, but I’ve seen your face when you talk about him.”
“He’s never asked me to hold back,” I said quietly. “But sometimes I catch myself doing it anyway. Like if I show too much, I’ll mess things up somehow.”
Cael nodded slowly, thoughtful. “Yeah. That’s a shitty place to be. You care about someone, and every time you're with them, it’s like holding your breath.”
“Exactly,” I said, voice low.
Cael looked back toward the booths and crowds and sky slowly shifting into dusk.
“If you’re already giving your heart, Ari,” he said eventually, “don’t be afraid to ask if he plans to hold it with both hands.”
“And if he doesn’t?” I asked, quieter this time. “What then?”
Cael’s mouth twisted like he hated the question. “Then he wasn’t ready for someone like you. And yeah, that would suck. But you’d still have people who see you for exactly who you are.”
I nodded.
The sun dipped lower, softening the edges of everything in a wash of warm gold.
The sky took on that in-between color—not quite day, not quite night—while strings of lights flickered to life above the square.
The scent of grilled meat and sweet kettle corn hung in the air, mixed with sunscreen and the faint fizz of sparklers crackling nearby.
Kids zipped through the crowd with glow sticks looped around their necks, parents trailing behind them, phones out and half-smiling.
Then I saw him.
Daddy entered from the far side of the square, near the firehouse.
He wore a soft gray T-shirt that clung to his arms and dark jeans, the kind that looked well-worn but clean.
A faded Braves cap sat backward on his head, and he moved through the crowd with ease.
He wasn’t in uniform, but he may as well have been.
People clapped him on the shoulder, nodded, called out greetings.
The fire chief gave Daddy a solid handshake and said something that made them both laugh.
My pulse kicked.
There wasn’t anything special about how Daddy looked.
Yet he was impossible to look away from.
Every inch of me clocked him like it was muscle memory—the line of his jaw, the way his shoulders rolled with each step, how his eyes scanned the crowd like he was looking for something. Or someone. Was it me?
God, I wanted to be brave enough to tell him.
Not just that I loved him, but that I didn’t want to keep loving him in secret.
That I wanted the kind of quiet, open thing where I could stand beside him and not pretend he was just my friend.
I wanted his hand in mine, out here in the middle of town, where everyone could see.
Sage found him first. My brother grinned wide and pulled Daddy into one of those half-hugs guys do, clapping his back like they hadn’t seen each other in months even though I knew damn well they were working on some car at Sage’s mechanic shop.
I stood there, trying not to look too hard. Wondering if Sage would be pissed if he knew Daddy and I were hooking up. If a twenty-five-year friendship could unravel over this. If Daddy would hate himself for putting it all on the line—for me.
And then Daddy’s gaze swung my way.
It landed. Held.
My breath caught.
Beside me, Cael let out a soft, knowing sound.
“God,” he muttered. “That man is going to devour you.”
I almost forgot he was there.
“Shut up,” I said under my breath.
“No, you shut up. I’m living for this.” He bumped my shoulder lightly, voice gentler now. “I told Layton I’d help him with something before the fireworks start. You gonna be okay?”
I nodded, still watching Daddy.
Cael squeezed my arm once before stepping away, disappearing back into the square with that easy saunter he always had. His absence left the space beside me feeling too open.
Daddy said something to Sage—just a few quiet words I couldn’t catch—and for a moment, his gaze slipped from me to my brother. They bumped fists like always, casual and easy, and then Daddy turned.
He moved toward me with deliberate steps. My pulse picked up speed. Up close, I caught the faint scent of whatever he always wore—clean, subtle, something I’d started to associate with him without even meaning to. He stopped just in front of me, close enough that the air between us shifted.
“You good?”
I didn’t answer right away. The question hung there, simple and quiet. But something about the way he asked it—not casually, not out of obligation—made my throat tighten.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
Daddy didn’t rush me. He just waited.
“I keep thinking about us,” I went on. “I don’t want to go back to pretending you’re just my brother’s best friend,” I said quietly. “Not after last night.”
He didn’t speak right away. Knowing him, it was because he was turning something over in his head, choosing his words the way he always did when it mattered.
“Then don’t,” he said finally. “Come with me.”
That pulled my gaze. “Where?”
He leaned in, voice low. His beard brushed just behind my ear. He didn’t touch me, but I felt him anyway, the way his presence curled around mine.
“Somewhere I can hear you say what you really want.”
A shiver ran through me.
I nodded, throat too tight for words.
We slipped away from the booths, weaving past the edge of the crowd. Cael caught my eye across the lawn and gave me a small, smug grin.
Daddy’s hand found the small of my back.
Then we disappeared into the dark...