Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
By July Fourth, the town had turned out the way it always did—folding chairs lining the square, coolers tucked beneath picnic tables, kids darting around with glow sticks snapped and humming.
Red, white and blue bunting draped the gazebo, and someone had strung paper lanterns along the edge of the lawn.
Mac stood with Connor near the fountain, the crowd thickening as dusk settled in.
She held a paper plate in one hand and a half-eaten corn on the cob in the other, butter streaking her fingers.
Connor had abandoned his own plate somewhere along the way and was midstory, one arm gesturing loosely as he talked about a disastrous fireworks show from his teenage years.
“And then,” he said, grinning, “the finale tipped over. Shot straight into the lake. People thought it was part of the show.”
Mac laughed, leaning into him without thinking. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish.” He glanced down at her, eyes warm. “My dad didn’t let us forget it for years.”
They were interrupted every few minutes—Callum stopping by with Brynn and Parker, Bella waving them over to comment on the pie table, someone else clapping Connor on the shoulder and saying how good it was to have him back.
Each time, Connor introduced Mac without hesitation, his hand finding the small of her back.
She noticed the ease of it—and how no one seemed surprised to see them together.
Fireworks were still a while off, but the sky had begun to deepen, the blue shifting toward indigo. A band struck up near the gazebo, something upbeat and a little off-key, and a few brave souls started dancing on the grass.
“This town does not ease into things,” Mac said.
Connor laughed. “Nope. We commit.”
Her phone buzzed.
She glanced down, her thumb hovering over the screen as if she’d known it was coming.
Paula.
This is moving faster than I expected. Network wants confirmation by Friday. If you’re in, we need to move now.
Mac’s chest tightened, more this time than it had at the baseball game. Not panic. Recognition.
Friday.
She locked the screen and slid the phone back into her pocket, forcing herself to take a breath. Around her, the night hummed, laughter, music, the pop of early fireworks testing the air. Someone nearby cheered as a sparkler fizzed to life.
Connor was watching her now.
“You with me?” he asked quietly.
Mac nodded. “Yeah.”
It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth.
He searched her face for a beat longer, then nodded, accepting her answer. His thumb brushed her arm, light and grounding.
“Fireworks should start soon,” he said. “You want to head closer to the lake?”
“Sure,” she said, grateful for movement.
They wove through the crowd, hands brushing, occasionally clasping, until they reached a quieter stretch near the water. The lake reflected the last of the light. Families settled onto blankets. Kids flopped dramatically onto the grass, already bored.
Connor sat on the ground, stretching out his legs. Mac followed, sitting cross-legged, her shoulder pressed lightly to his.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The first fireworks went up with a sharp whistle, then bloomed overhead in white and gold. The crowd oohed on cue.
Connor glanced at her. “You know,” he said, almost casually, “this might be my favorite night of the year.”
“Yeah?” she said.
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “It’s loud. And quiet. Everyone’s together, but no one’s asking for anything.”
Mac swallowed.
Another firework burst, red this time, scattering sparks across the sky.
She thought about Friday.
About doors closing.
About how easily joy could coexist with decision—and how unfair it felt that one didn’t cancel out the other.
Connor leaned back on his hands, eyes on the sky. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
The words landed softly. No expectation threaded through them. Just truth.
Mac turned her head, watching his profile lit by the flashes overhead. She wanted to tell him. Not everything, but something. That there was movement. That time had started to matter.
Instead, she rested her head briefly against his shoulder.
“I’m glad I am, too,” she said.
The fireworks picked up speed, filling the sky with blue and red and silver cascading down in quick succession. The crowd gasped and clapped, faces turned upward, everyone momentarily caught on the same breath.
Connor reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers without looking.
She held on.
As the finale thundered overhead, Mac made herself one quiet promise.
She would tell him.
Just not tonight.