Chapter 15
Twenty minutes later, I climb into the backseat of Sam’s truck, biting down on a grin so wide it practically hurts.
Keep it together, I tell myself. Act normal.
“Sorry I’m late,” I say, settling in.
“Must be a theme today,” Sam says, gesturing back to Will. “This one had Missy Jones at his place this morning.”
The words hit like a slap. Why in the world does Sam think Missy would be at Will’s? But Sam keeps talking, completely unaware that he’s just cracked the air open.
“Getting pretty serious between the two of you, huh?” He grins at Will in the mirror.
Will doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.
Charlie, ever the sweetheart, twists around from the passenger seat with a bright smile. “She’s a gem, Will. Tell her I’d love to have her over again for another game night.”
I stare at Will. He’s gone completely still. His jaw tight. Hands clenched in his lap like he can hold the silence in place if he just keeps from moving.
My throat dries. The taste of him still on my lips from hours ago. His mouth. His body. His words.
"I want more than just a few stolen mornings."
I wait for him to correct them. To say something. Anything.
But he doesn’t.
He just sits there, quiet and still and complicit.
And that silence?
It screams.
Charlie’s still smiling in the passenger seat, oblivious to the bomb Sam just dropped in my lap.
“Did you ever get the recipe for the caramel dip? The one I couldn’t stop eating? It was so good.” She laughs. “And I can’t believe y’all got so tipsy you couldn’t leave.”
Sam chuckles. “Never thought I’d see the day Will would settle down.”
My stomach twists.
I can still feel Will’s hands on my skin. His mouth on mine. His body coming undone for me. And now I find out he’s been spending time with Missy-freaking-Jones? Is that what I missed in the month I was avoiding him?
“Yeah,” I say, tone tight, forcing the words out through a clenched jaw. “She seems like a real gem.”
Will finally speaks, his voice low and careful. “That’s not—”
“Oh no, don’t stop on my account,” I cut in, sweet as poison. “I’m dying to hear more about this caramel-dip-sleepover situation.”
Charlie turns, brows pulling together. “Phern?”
But I’m already looking out the window, biting the inside of my cheek so I don’t say something I can’t take back. Will doesn’t say anything else, either. And the silence in the cab is louder than any shouting match could ever be.
When we get to the fairgrounds, I hop out of the truck as fast as I can. My strides are long, but not long enough to get away from Will. He grabs my hand, pulling me behind a trailer.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then what is it?”
“Missy’s lonely. We’ve just been hanging out. Nothing else, I swear.”
“Then why does my brother and his wife seem to think you two are an item?”
Will drags a hand through his hair, looking torn between frustration and panic. “Because I let them. It was easier than explaining the truth.”
“The truth?” I spit, yanking my hand from his grip. “What truth, Will? That you’re fucking around with me in secret while letting the rest of the world think Missy’s your sweet little caramel-dip girlfriend?”
He winces like I hit him.
“We didn’t even kiss, Phern,” he says, voice sharp now. “She was with me when Charlie invited me over. I couldn’t not invite her. We went out there, had some whisky, watched a movie, and then I fell asleep on the damn couch while she took the bed in the guest room. That’s it.”
“And you just didn’t correct anyone?” I scoff, taking a step back. “You let them run with the story. Why? So you’d have someone safe to show off while keeping me tucked away across the street?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then tell me what it was like,” I snap, voice rising. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like you want your cake and your midnight hookup, too.”
Will’s jaw ticks. “It’s not about you not being enough, Phern. It’s about you being too much.”
“What in the hell does that mean?”
He exhales hard, stepping closer, lowering his voice like he’s afraid it’ll shatter us both.
“It means you terrify me. You always have. I’ve spent years trying to pretend like I didn’t feel this way about you, and the second I stop pretending you’re already in my bed and my brother’s calling my name and the whole damn world’s catching up. ”
I stare at him, heart racing. “So you’d rather be safe? Rather keep playing pretend with someone like Missy while I sit in the dark wondering what we are?”
He swallows, stepping close again, voice hoarse. “No. I don’t want her. I want you. I just didn’t know how to say it out loud without everything changing.”
I shake my head, throat tight. “It already has.”
“Phern.”
But I’m already walking away, fast and furious, brushing at the hot tears that betray me, slipping down my cheeks before I can stop them. I hate that he sees them. I hate even more that he caused them.
By the time I reach the edge of the fairgrounds, I duck behind a row of livestock trailers, my breath catching, throat burning. I don’t cry like this, where anyone can see. But right now, I can’t seem to stop.
I manage to stay hidden most of the day, slipping between tents, pretending to check schedules, burying myself in any task that keeps me moving and unseen.
But my luck runs out just past sundown.
I round the corner near the concession stands and freeze.
There they are—Sam, Charlie, Will, and Missy—laughing.
Talking. Like everything’s perfectly in place.
Like she fits. And she does. They look good together.
Both tall, lean, clean-cut. The kind of pairing people root for without even knowing why.
Missy’s blonde hair catches the fair lights, her sundress cinched just right at the waist. And Will’s standing too close to her.
His head tipped toward hers in a way that makes it look intimate, even if it isn’t.
My heart cracks wide open, slow and silent.
Because he never stood like that with me in public.
I glance down at myself. Dusty jeans, sweat-smudged tank, hair pulled back in a messy knot. I don’t belong beside him like she does. Not in this version of his life. Not when I’m always the secret.
So, I do what I always do.
I shove all the pain into the pit of my stomach, paste on a fake-ass smile so tight it could crack, and walk straight up to the group like I haven’t been crying behind a trailer all afternoon.
“Phern,” Charlie beams. “I was just telling Missy about the articles you’ve been writing.”
Missy turns to me with that syrupy sweet smile that makes me want to peel my own skin off. “They’re so good. You’re very talented.”
“Thanks,” I say, voice light. Controlled. Like I’m not actively imagining setting her hair on fire. “It’s been fun getting to interview everyone.”
Missy tilts her head. “You know, my family’s been around nearly as long as yours. I’d love to sit down and chat with you sometime.”
I’d literally rather deep-clean a barn with a toothbrush. But I nod, my smile growing even faker. “That would be great.”
My eyes flick to Will. He hasn’t said a word. But he’s watching me now, shoulders tense, jaw tight. Good.
Turning to Sam, I say, “Hey, I actually ran into some friends earlier. I’m going to catch a ride into town with them.”
Will shifts like he’s about to say something but doesn’t get the chance.
“You’re leaving before the fireworks?” Sam asks, brow creasing.
Before I can answer, Missy pipes up, voice bright and helpful. “I think Trey Evans is having a bonfire out at his place. That’s probably where she’s going.”
For a wicked little witch, she just handed me the perfect alibi.
“Yup,” I chirp, turning my smile on her like a weapon. “That’s where I’m going.”
I give them all a small wave, barely glancing at Will. “See you later.”
And then I turn and walk away like I’ve got somewhere better to be. Like my chest isn’t cracking in half with every step.
As I’m leaving, I hear Missy say, “She’s so cute.”
My teeth clench so hard I’m surprised they don’t crack.
I don’t want a bonfire. I want a voodoo doll with her face on it, a million pins, and the complete and permanent eviction of Will Flowers from my chest cavity.
The moment I’m out of sight, the mask drops. The smile disappears. My face aches from holding it in place. My lungs feel like they’re wrapped in wire.
I walk.
Gravel crunches underfoot. The buzz of the fair fades behind me, replaced by the thud of my heartbeat and the rush of wind through trees. There’s no Trey Evans. No fire. Just me. And the silence I used to be better at surviving.
I’ve walked a few blocks when a truck pulls up beside me. The passenger window rolls down.
“Hey, Phern!” Bonnie calls. “Need a ride?”
I wipe my face quickly with the back of my hand. “Where are you headed?”
“Into town.”
“That’d be great.”
She pulls over, and I climb in, pulling the door shut behind me like I’m trying to keep everything else out.
The moment it latches, the tears come fast and hot.
“I’m so sorry,” I manage through the sobs. “I can get out if you want—”
“Heck no,” Bonnie says, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “A friend wouldn’t let a friend walk it off alone when she’s clearly in heartbreak hell.”
“Thanks.”
She hums thoughtfully. “Boy troubles? Or life imploding? Or all of the above?”
“Ding ding,” I croak, wiping at my cheeks. “All of the above.”
“Well,” Bonnie says, turning onto the main road, “you’re in good company. Cry it out, sister. I’ve got the perfect song for you.”
She scrolls through her playlist and lands on a heartbreak anthem that somehow hits all the right notes—soft, sad, but not pathetic. It makes the ache a little less sharp. Makes me feel a little less alone.
By the time we roll into town, I’ve mostly stopped crying.
We pull up in front of Knot and Spur, and Bonnie throws the truck in park and cuts the engine.
“You want to talk about it?”
I glance at her. There was a time when she and I were close.
Shared secrets in locker rooms, skipped class to cry in the truck bed over boys who didn’t deserve us.
But life happened. College. Work. Drift.
Now she’s technically more of a town acquaintance.
Works part-time at the bar. Closer to Will’s orbit than mine.
Still, she offered me a song when I was falling apart. So I decide on a middle ground. A version of the truth that doesn’t lay me bare, but still gets the ache out of my chest.
“I’m still a virgin,” I say, voice quiet but firm.
Bonnie’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Wow. Not what I was expecting you to say.” She blinks, processing. “Really? Still? Like, no experience or just not the big deed?”
“Just not the big deed,” I say with a small laugh. “And there’s this guy. I like him. A lot. But I’m really bad at going after what I want.”
Bonnie leans back against the seat with a soft hmm.
“Aunt Ruby always says a lady shouldn’t chase after a man.”
I roll my eyes. “Ruby also says if you put garlic in your bra you won’t get sick.”
Bonnie snorts. “Fair point.”
We sit in silence for a moment.
“I don’t know,” I finally say. “I thought he wanted me. But now it’s just messy.”
Bonnie tilts her head. “Does he know how you feel?”
I shrug, fingers twisting in my lap. “He’s had signs. Smoke signals. Highway billboards. A mouthful of clues.”
“Maybe he’s stupid.”
“Or scared.”
“Or both.” She bumps my shoulder gently. “You’re not bad at going after what you want, Phern. You’re just afraid you’re gonna get hurt doing it.”
My throat tightens. She’s not wrong.
“I’m tired of feeling like an option,” I whisper.
Bonnie doesn’t answer. Just reaches over and squeezes my hand.
“You’re not,” Bonnie says again, voice quiet but certain. “And maybe the key is to move on. If he’s the one, he’ll do the chasing.”
I swallow. “And if he’s not?”
“Then you’ll keep moving on,” she says, like it’s simple, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes. A tinge of hurt that says she’s speaking from experience. That she’s had to.
It makes me want to ask. But I don’t.
Instead, I reach for the door handle. “Thanks for giving me a ride.”
“Any time,” she says, smiling, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Now, I better get back to Aunt Ruby’s place. She’s been real sad since Lura passed away.”
I pause, heart twisting. “We all miss her.”
Bonnie nods, blinking hard as she turns the key in the ignition.
“Yeah. She’s been trying to act like she’s okay, but you know Ruby. Stubborn as a fence post. I think she’s holding on by distracting herself. She’s taken up knitting again, so the entire town better be prepared to for uneven scarves.”
I reach over and squeeze her hand. “If she needs anything—if you do—just call, okay?”
Bonnie gives me a grateful smile. “Same goes, Phern. And don’t be a stranger. I’ve missed hanging out with you.”
I stand outside the Knot and Spur for a minute after she leaves, the evening air cool against my skin, the ache in my chest quieting just enough to breathe again.
If he’s the one, he’ll do the chasing.
And if not maybe I’ll be okay anyway.