24. Billie
Billie
I changed outfits three times before settling on a simple sundress and cardigan that struck the right balance between casual and date-worthy. Not that this was officially a date. Except that it absolutely was, and my stomach had been doing acrobatics all morning at the thought.
The Willowbrook Harvest Festival was one of those perfect small-town traditions that felt like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting.
Main Street was closed to traffic and lined with booths selling everything from homemade apple butter to hand-carved wooden toys.
The air smelled like cinnamon and woodsmoke, and everywhere I looked, families and couples were laughing and enjoying the crisp autumn afternoon.
I was supposed to meet Gage by the cider stand at two o'clock, but I'd arrived fifteen minutes early because Aunt Helen's house had started to feel like a cage.
Now I stood in the shadow of Marie's bakery booth, watching families pose for photos with the hay bale scarecrow display and trying not to think about how long it had been since I'd been on an actual date.
"You look beautiful."
I spun around to find Gage standing behind me, and my breath caught in my throat.
He was wearing dark jeans and a soft gray henley that brought out his eyes, and for the first time since he'd been back, he was walking without crutches.
Xander had removed his cast earlier in the week, and seeing him move freely, even with the slight limp, made my heart do something complicated in my chest.
"Hi," I said, suddenly feeling sixteen again. "Look at you, walking around like a regular person."
His laugh was warm and genuine. "Feels strange not having those damn crutches. I keep reaching for them out of habit."
He stepped closer, close enough that I could smell his cologne—something woodsy and warm that made me want to lean in and breathe deeply. "Ready for this?"
"Ready for what? The festival, or...?"
"Both," he said, and the honesty in his voice made my heart skip.
He offered me his arm, and after a moment's hesitation, I took it. The simple gesture felt momentous somehow, like we were crossing some invisible line from whatever we'd been pretending to be into something real and terrifying and wonderful.
"So," I said as we started walking down the crowded street, "what's our game plan? Food first, or do you want to jump straight into bankrupting yourself at the ring toss?"
He laughed, and the sound sent warmth shooting through my chest. "I was thinking we'd start with the essentials.
Apple cider and kettle corn." He ticked them off his fingers like he'd been thinking about this for just as long as I had.
"Then we work our way up to the more serious business of winning you ridiculous stuffed animals. "
"Just like old times," I said softly.
"Just like old times," he agreed, but there was something different in his voice. More mature, more certain. Like he knew exactly what he was risking and had decided it was worth it anyway.
The next hour passed in a blur of shared funnel cake and gentle teasing and the kind of easy conversation I'd forgotten we were capable of.
Gage bought us matching cinnamon sugar donuts and made a show of feeding me bites when I claimed my hands were too sticky to eat properly.
I pretended to be scandalized when he licked powdered sugar off his thumb, but the truth was, watching his mouth had become my new favorite form of torture.
"Your turn," he said, leading me to the ring toss booth where a collection of stuffed animals hung from the ceiling like a fluffy rainbow.
"My turn for what?"
"To bankrupt me trying to win you a prize," he said, pulling out his wallet with exaggerated seriousness. "It's tradition."
"Gage, you don't have to..."
"I want to," he said simply, and something in his tone made me stop protesting.
Twenty dollars and fifteen rings later, he finally managed to land one around a milk bottle, earning a cheer from the growing crowd of onlookers who'd been rooting for him.
"Pick your prize, beautiful," the booth operator called out, and I felt heat flood my cheeks at the endearment.
I scanned the available options, my eyes landing on a small brown horse with kind eyes and a white star on its forehead. "That one," I said, pointing.
Gage followed my gaze and grinned. "Looks like Bullet."
"That's why I want it," I said, and watched his expression soften into something that made my heart clench.
He accepted the stuffed horse from the booth operator and handed it to me with a little bow that was both ridiculous and charming. "For you, my lady."
I clutched the toy to my chest, probably looking like an idiot but too happy to care. "Thank you. I love him."
"What are you going to name him?"
I considered this seriously. "Peanuts."
His eyebrows shot up. "Like Mr. Peanuts?"
The reference to the pink elephant he'd won me when we were sixteen hung between us, loaded with memory and meaning.
"Different Peanuts," I said quietly. "This one's brown."
"This one is definitely brown," he said in agreement, but his eyes were soft with understanding.
As the sun started to sink toward the horizon, the festival began to transform.
String lights flickered to life between the trees, casting everything in a warm, golden glow.
A small stage had been set up in the town square, where local musicians were starting to tune their instruments for the evening's entertainment.
"Dance with me," Gage said suddenly.
I looked around at the couples already swaying to the sound check, then back at him. "Here? In front of everyone?"
"Here," he confirmed, offering me his hand. "In front of everyone."
My heart was beating so fast I was surprised it didn't bruise my ribs. Dancing with Gage, here, now, in front of the entire town. It would be a declaration. An announcement that we were... what? Dating? Trying again? Figuring it out?
"Billie," he said softly, and his voice was gentle but sure. "I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But I'm tired of being careful. I'm tired of pretending this is just friendship when we both know it's so much more."
The music started again. A slow, sweet ballad that seemed designed specifically for moments like this, and I found myself reaching for his hand before I could think better of it.
He led me into the makeshift dance area, one hand settling at my waist while the other held mine gently but firmly. We moved together like we'd been doing this for years instead of minutes, and I let myself melt into the solid warmth of his chest.
"This is nice," I whispered against his shoulder.
"This is terrifying," he whispered back, making me laugh.
"That too."
Around us, other couples swayed to the music, lost in their own worlds.
But I was hyperaware of the eyes on us. Curious, approving, speculative.
By tomorrow, everyone in town would know that Gage Farrington and Billie Schulster had danced together at the harvest festival.
They'd know we were... whatever this was.
"Regrets?" Gage asked, and I could hear the vulnerability in his voice.
I pulled back just enough to look at him, seeing my own nervousness reflected in his eyes. "Not yet."
His smile was radiant. "Good. Because I'm planning to kiss you when this song ends."
My breath caught. "You are?"
"I am. If that's okay with you."
I looked around at the crowd, at Marie with her phone out obviously taking pictures, at Blake and Emma watching us with matching grins from beside the cider stand.
"Everyone's watching," I said.
"I don't care," he said simply. "Do you?"
Did I? I'd spent so many years being careful, protecting my heart, avoiding exactly this kind of public declaration. But standing here in Gage's arms, swaying to music under string lights with the scent of autumn in the air, I realized I was tired of being careful too.
"No," I said. "I don't care."
The song wound down, and Gage's hand tightened on my waist. He was looking at me like I was the answer to every question he'd ever asked, and when he started to lean down, I rose up on my tiptoes to meet him halfway.
The kiss was everything our teenage kiss had been and more. Soft and sweet and full of years of longing. But it was also different, deeper, infused with the weight of adult emotions and the knowledge of what we'd both lost when he left.
When we finally broke apart, the crowd around us erupted in applause and whistles. I buried my face in Gage's chest, half embarrassed and half giddy, while he laughed and held me close.
"Well," he said when the noise died down, "I guess that's official now."
"I guess it is," I agreed, not lifting my head from his shoulder.
"Billie?"
"Mmm?"
"Look at me."
I reluctantly raised my head to meet his eyes, expecting to see smugness or satisfaction. Instead, I saw something that looked like wonder.
"I've wanted to do that again for eleven years," he said quietly.
"Was it worth the wait?" I asked, trying for lightness but hearing the real question underneath.
His answer was another kiss, shorter but no less sweet, that left me breathless and clinging to his shirt.
"Definitely worth the wait," he murmured against my lips.
The rest of the evening passed in a haze of shared laughter and stolen touches.
We sampled every food booth, listened to the local high school band perform surprisingly good covers of classic rock songs, and ran into what felt like every person in Willowbrook, all of whom seemed delighted by this new development in the town's ongoing romantic drama.
By the time Gage walked me home, my cheeks hurt from smiling and my heart felt full to bursting.
"Thank you," I said as we reached my apartment door. "For tonight. For pushing me out of my comfort zone."
"Thank you for letting me," he said, stepping closer in the dim light of my porch. "For saying yes to this, whatever this is."
"What is this?" I asked, suddenly needing to know.
He was quiet for a moment, and I could see him weighing his words carefully.
"I don't know exactly," he said finally. "But I know I want to find out. I know I want to take you on more dates and kiss you goodnight on your porch and maybe, eventually, convince you to trust me with your heart again."
The honesty in his voice made my chest tight. "That's a lot of maybes."
"It is," he agreed. "But for the first time in eleven years, maybes feel like possibilities instead of impossibilities."
I looked up at this man who'd been my best friend, my first love, my greatest heartbreak, and now maybe something new entirely, and felt something click into place.
"Okay," I said.
"Okay?"
"Okay, let's find out. Let's see what this is."
The smile that spread across his face was brilliant enough to light up the entire street. "Really?"
"Really. But slowly," I added quickly. "I need time to..."
"Slowly," he agreed, cutting off my nervous babbling with a gentle kiss. "Whatever pace you need. I'm not going anywhere."
The promise hung between us, weighted with history and hope, and for the first time since he'd come back into my life, I let myself believe it might be true.
"Goodnight, Gage," I said softly.
"Goodnight, Billie." He stepped back reluctantly. "Sweet dreams."
I watched from my window as he walked away, his hands in his pockets and something light in his step that hadn't been there when he'd first come home.
And as I got ready for bed, the stuffed horse he'd won me sitting on my nightstand like a promise, I let myself imagine what it might feel like to trust him again.
Scary, definitely. Terrifying, absolutely.
But deep down, I knew it was worth the risk.