Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ashton
Olivia’s rusted beige sedan is packed to the brim, overstuffed totes crammed into the back seat and wedged into every spare inch of space.
She slams the trunk shut with a grunt, leaning her weight into it until it finally latches.
Then she swipes at the sheen of sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand.
Her blond hair is pulled up in a neon pink scrunchie, though a few stubborn strands have escaped, clinging to her temples in the late-summer heat. She’s wearing leggings and a loose T-shirt—a comfy outfit for the three-hour drive back to Lakeview University.
She’s been at college for three years now, but saying goodbye hasn’t gotten any easier.
Even if Lakeview University is only a few hours away, we don’t see each other nearly as often as I’d like.
I’ve cherished our summers spent together in the orchard, memories of sunburned shoulders and long days of grueling hard work.
By this time next year, she’ll have her degree. She’s talked about traveling the world once she graduates—maybe moving out of state, maybe even out of the country. Every time she says it, a mixture of pride and dread swells in my chest.
I know I’ll miss her. I already do, and she hasn’t even pulled out of the driveway yet. But more than anything, I want her to be happy. I want her to achieve her dreams.
Selfishly, though, part of me wants her to stay my baby sister forever.
The whole family crowds around Olivia’s car—all seven of us gathered together to say goodbye. The late-August air feels thick, heavy with heat and tension.
Dad stands a little apart from the rest of us, arms crossed tight over his chest. He hasn’t said a single word to me since that dinner two weeks ago. Not hello. Not even a question about how the final stretch of harvest went. Nothing.
I’d almost prefer a critique or a burst of anger over this suffocating silence. At least then I’d know where I stand.
The disappointment in his eyes, the few times they flick in my direction, is what really guts me. I’ve seen that look before—when I handed him the wrong tool in the barn, when I miscalculated the spray mixture, when I didn’t align the forklift just right.
But now, this is different.
Back then, his frustration was about my mistakes—things I could fix, skills I could sharpen. This time, his disappointment has nothing to do with my work ethic and everything to do with my heart.
If he knew I was dating Troy—if he knew we’re more than just friendly business partners, that I’m sharing a bed with him—I think it might actually send him into a second heart attack.
But maybe he already knows.
Maybe I couldn’t hide my lovesick eyes whenever I looked at Troy at the dining table.
The thought makes my stomach twist, sharp and sour.
Mom pulls Olivia into a tight hug. “Call me when you get there,” she says for the third time. “And text. And don’t forget to eat real food.”
Olivia laughs, though her eyes are glassy. “I won’t, Mom.”
Luke steps in next, wrapping her up and lifting her clean off the ground despite her squawk of protest. Justin and Chloe follow, each of them clinging to her longer than usual.
Dad uncrosses his arms and offers her a brief, stiff hug—more a pat on the back than an embrace. “Drive safe,” he mutters.
“I will,” she replies softly.
When the others step away, she turns to me with a crooked grin. “See ya later, boss.”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “Don’t call me that.”
“You love it,” she teases, stepping into me.
I fold her into a hug, arms wrapped snugly around her shoulders. I blink hard against the sting building behind my eyes, focusing on the feel of her T-shirt beneath my palms, the familiar scent of her shampoo.
“I’m proud of you,” I murmur.
She leans up on her toes, her mouth close to my ear. “I’m proud of you too.”
I frown. “For what?”
She pulls back just enough to look at me. “For finding yourself this summer,” she says softly.
My breath stutters in my chest. “What—”
“Tell Troy I said goodbye,” she adds with a subtle wink. “And I hope to see him next time I come visit.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Liv—”
She squeezes my arm, cutting me off before I can spiral. Her voice softens. “I love you. And just so you know? We’ve got you. All of us.” Her eyes flick briefly toward our siblings. “You’re not as alone as you think.”
“I—” I clear my throat and let out a shaky breath. “I love you too.”
She hugs me one last time before pulling away.
I step back and drag my sleeve across my face like I’m wiping away sweat, but really I’m fighting the burn behind my eyes. If I cried in front of my dad, I’d never hear the end of it. I can already hear his voice, the same lines he fed me every time I let a tear slip as a kid.
Man up, Ashton.
It’s not worth crying about.
Don’t be so dramatic, son.
Even after all these years, the words still land like a fist to the sternum.
I draw in a slow breath, steadying myself. The last thing I need right now is to show any kind of weakness in front of dad.
Olivia slides into the driver’s seat, the door slamming shut with a hollow thud that echoes down the driveway. She rolls the window down, one hand curled around the steering wheel, black-painted nails catching in the sunlight.
“Love you guys!” she calls.
A chorus of farewells follows as the engine sputters to life. Gravel crunches beneath her tires while she backs out, lifting a hand in one last wave. Her gaze finds mine and lingers a beat longer than the rest, a gentle, knowing smile curving her mouth.
Then she’s gone.
I stay rooted to the spot long after the car disappears down the road, the dust settling in slow spirals around my boots. As I stare down the empty driveway, I realize the weight I’ve carried my entire life is suddenly a little bit lighter.
Embers spark and spiral up from the fire, twisting into the dark like tiny shooting stars.
The wind rolling off the lake has teeth tonight, sharp enough to slice through my hoodie and leave goose bumps prickling along my arms. I drag my chair a few inches closer to the flames, letting the heat soak through denim and cotton until my shivering eases.
Laughter carries over the crash of the waves. Someone’s got a country playlist going from a Bluetooth speaker nestled in the sand. The crackle of the fire cuts through the air, filling the pauses between overlapping conversations.
Luke is sprawled two chairs down from me, mid-story, gesturing wildly with a half-empty beer.
A couple of guys I don’t recognize—friends of Ethan’s, I think—laugh a little too hard at his punchline.
I nod along when it seems appropriate, but I don’t know half their names. I’m not even sure they know mine.
Across the fire, separated from me by flames and a wide stretch of churned-up sand, Troy leans back in his folding chair. The firelight carves shadows into his face, highlighting his cheekbones and glinting off his piercings. His forearms are bare despite the cold, crossed loosely over his stomach.
I take another sip from the Black Cat beer in my hand. He handed it to me earlier without a word, just a brief brush of fingers as I reached for it from the cooler. That was the closest we’ve gotten all night.
The flavor settles on my tongue—citrus and a hint of oak with a crisp bite at the end. It tastes like long afternoons at the brewery. Like smoke and stainless steel and Troy’s shoulder bumping mine as he reaches for a valve. It tastes like him.
I let it linger before I swallow.
Ethan shifts forward, elbows braced on his knees as he flicks a stick into the fire. “Hey, Luke—you invite Mason tonight?”
Luke drags his gaze from the flames. “Yeah. He’s in Shelby Harbor this weekend, though.”
“Shelby Harbor?” Ethan arches a brow. “What’s he doing out there?”
Luke shrugs. “Think he’s visiting a friend.”
Ethan snorts. “The guy he was fooling around with?”
The words land like a splash of cold water. My spine goes rigid. My fingers tighten around the neck of the amber bottle until the glass presses hard into my palm. The fire pops, loud in the sudden stillness.
Luke lifts one shoulder. “Maybe. I dunno. I didn’t ask.”
Ethan makes a face, half grimace, half smirk. “You think this is just a phase, right? Like an experiment or something? He’s not actually gay, right?”
The conversation around the bonfire thins to nothing. Even the guys I don’t know stop mid-murmur. The only sound is the wind dragging across the lake and the steady crackle of burning wood.
Across the fire, Troy goes perfectly still.
Luke’s gaze flicks to him for a split second. His features soften, like he’s aware of the line Ethan just crossed. Almost apologetic, even though he’s not the one who said it.
Then he looks back at Ethan.
“It doesn’t really matter,” Luke says evenly. “He’s still Mason.”
Ethan huffs. “Yeah, but—”
“Who he hooks up with isn’t any of our business,” Luke cuts in. He tilts his head, something sharper sliding into his tone. “Unless you’re interested? I can give you his number.”
Laughter breaks out around the circle, loud and sudden, snapping the tension like a dry twig. Someone whistles. Another guy nudges Ethan with his elbow.
Ethan’s face flushes pink in the firelight. He shakes his head quickly. “Shut up. That’s gross.”
I meet Troy’s eyes through the flickering flames and hold his gaze. We don’t need words. A soft, subtle smile settles on his face.
The wind surges off the lake, bending the fire sideways as the conversation drifts to something else—football, maybe. Or hockey. Baseball. I’m not really listening. The guys’ voices blur together, loud and enthusiastic, arguing stats.
I hunch deeper into my hoodie, the cold nipping at my cheeks and slipping down my collar, but there’s a steady warmth in my chest that has nothing to do with the fire.