Chapter 14
JULES
“It’s seven o’clock, people!”
Mrs. Dorsey bursts into the dining hall like the night has been waiting on her cue. Nap taken, hair freshly pinned, lipstick brighter than common sense, and a scarf tied with too much confidence.
“We’re headed to the square! Strap your boots and get ready to dance! Art walk, food trucks, and The Cover Artists are playing tonight. Be there or be square!” Her eyes sparkle, daring anyone to say no. Then she’s gone again, vanishing like a woman on a mission.
We all glance at each other. Calvin’s sunk into the sofa beside me. Cara and Maddie are tangled in beanbags, Riot sprawled at Maddie’s knee.
“Let’s go!” I blurt, surprising myself. “This party cannot end like this!”
Riot springs up, arms wide. “Woo hoo! I’m getting one of Mrs. Lupita’s churros!”
“Amen,” Rodney says with a grin.
We scatter to grab jackets and fix hair. The dining hall smells faintly of rain and lemonade, like the storm was a quick rinse. A blessing, maybe. The kind that clears the air and leaves everything sharper.
Most of the picnic crowd slipped home hours ago, but the night feels young again as we step out together.
We girls walk in front, Cara, Maddie, and me, our laughter bouncing ahead. Behind us, the guys fall into their own rhythm. Riot’s voice carries most of it, stories spilling out with flailing hands and wild energy.
A scuff echoes off the concrete.
“Damn,” Rodney mutters. “Scuffed the sneakers.”
Cara and I glance back, stifling grins. He looks stiff, hands buried in his pockets like he’s been caught off guard by the world.
Cara blows him a kiss with playful cheer.
He laughs. Short, awkward, like he’s on trial for smiling.
Riot claps him on the shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, man. Shoes tell stories.”
The streets still shine faintly under the turquoise sky as we near the square, less than half a mile from the dining hall. The night smells new again: wet brick, food trucks firing up, something sweet drifting in the air.
By the time we reach the square, lights glow overhead, puddles drying in glimmering patches. The Cover Artists, local legends since I was a kid, launch into a John Mayer riff. Kids dash through what water’s left. Couples sway close, shoulders brushing, laughter lifting.
The whole town feels alive again, as if it had been waiting for me to come back to this moment.
And though I’m surrounded by friends, it’s Calvin’s quiet presence I feel most of all. Like a hand I haven’t yet reached for. He finds a place to my right. Not touching. Not far. Close enough that my hands forget to fidget.
The letter warms my pocket like a second pulse.
Faith passes behind him, smoothing a curl off his forehead. He tips his head toward her, and the look they share is small and sure, family stitched into a glance.
The bandleader taps the mic. It squawks.
“We were rained out and raised up,” he says, grinning. “Let’s call this the second-chance set. Tonight’s open mic between songs. If you’ve got a story, a poem, a tune, or something you just need to get off your chest, come on up.”
The crowd hoots. Someone yells for a Fleetwood Mac cover.
Cara leans in. “Bet you five bucks Mrs. Dorsey starts a conga line by song three.”
“Please,” I say. “Song one.”
Right on cue, Mrs. Dorsey lifts both arms like a conductor. The front row cheers on instinct. She didn’t plan the storm, but she absolutely planned this.
The Cover Artists roll through a couple of crowd-pleasers—Van Morrison, Fleetwood Mac—a little off key, perfect anyway. Couples sway, kids skip through puddles, silver spraying into the lights.
When the song winds down, the bandleader steps up to the mic, grinning. “So, who’s brave enough to kick us off?”
The crowd goes quiet. Except Riot.
Riot cups his hands to his mouth, mischief already buzzing in the air. My stomach flips before he even opens it.
“Calvin Stewart!” he bellows. “The dating coach with a lifetime of advice. Time to put your heart where your mouth is tonight!”
Laughter ripples. Heads turn. Cara’s eyebrows shoot up. Maddie gasps like she paid for front-row seats.
I don’t look at Calvin right away. When I finally do, he’s already looking at me. My pulse stumbles. The square alive like a live wire, the string lights buzzing overhead as if they can hear it too. For a long second neither of us moves at all, caught in the charge.
The bandleader chuckles into the mic. “Voluntold. I like it. Calvin Stewart, the town’s dating hero. What’s on your heart this evening?”
Calvin doesn’t move at first. He stands rooted at the edge, shoulders squared, eyes flickering with nerves. The crowd claps louder, as if volume alone could carry him forward.
At last he steps out. Slow. Careful. Not strutting. Not grinning. Just walking like a man who knows the ground can give way if he presses too hard.
Riot whoops. Cara claps like she’s officiating a wedding. Faith clasps her hands beneath her chin, eyes soft with pride, as if she’s been waiting ten years for this exact moment.
Calvin climbs the steps and turns to face us. His hands hover near the mic, retreat, then settle again, like it might bite. For a breath he says nothing, and it’s the kind of pause that makes you hold yours too.
He shifts, glances once at the stairs, then sweeps the crowd. His eyes land on Riot. “I don’t know how I ended up here. Riot, that’s on you.”
Laughter ripples. He almost smiles. Then something calms in him, like the moment finds him before he finds it. His shoulders square. His voice drops lower.
“I don’t have a song. I don’t have a speech. I wasn’t actually planning to step up here, but I do have something on my heart. What I have is the truth I’ve carried for ten years.
“I thought it would fade. I thought if I filled my life with noise and purpose, maybe I could forget. But that’s not how it works. Time doesn’t erase what’s real. It just cracks the surface until it seeps out. Maybe this is how it was always meant to happen.”
“Jules.” His voice catches on my name. “You told me once you didn’t want to be an option. And you never were. There are no other options. There never were.
“Without you, I keep going. I keep living. But with you…” He swallows. “With you, life has the meaning I’ve been searching for all along. I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re competing with anyone else, because it has always been you.
“And I don’t want to rush you. I don’t want to assume I can have you back just because I finally found the courage to say this out loud. I want you to choose for yourself.
“But for me, tonight is it. My choice is made. And it’s you. It has always been you.”
The words hang in the air. No polish. No strategy. Just him.
I grip my knees to keep from shaking. Every part of me feels seen, raw, exposed, like he’s reached inside and touched the ache I’ve carried all these years.
More time. That’s all I ever wanted too. Not perfect. Not safe. Just him.
He doesn’t move. He doesn’t smile. The words hover between us, almost unbearable.
The square holds its breath.
And then the world exhales.
Clapping breaks out. Whistles, cheers, a ripple that builds until it’s everywhere at once. Riot makes a sound somewhere between a cheer and a sob. I glance back at Cara but what catches my attention is Rodney. His cheeks are wet down both cheeks which actually makes me chuckle.
Mrs. Dorsey arms are thrown skyward when she glances at me. “Who needs karaoke! Woo hooo!”
Cara’s the first to recover. Of course she is. She leaps to her feet and cups her hands around her mouth.
“Well? Don’t just sit there, Jules. Get up there!”
Laughter ripples, half-teasing, half-daring. Maddie joins in, shoving at my shoulder.
“Go. That’s your cue.”
I want to shake my head, hide behind someone’s chair, say he’s the public speaker, but my legs betray me.
Or maybe Calvin does, just standing there, hands at his sides, like he wouldn’t dare reach but he’s waiting anyway.
Before I can think, I’m moving. The crowd parts, making an aisle I never agreed to walk.
The mic squeals when I touch it. My cheeks burn hot. My palms are slick. A few voices whoop encouragement, but then the quiet falls heavy, expectant.
I glance at Calvin. At the faces staring up. My laugh comes nervous and thin.
“Well. This is not my thing. Public speaking. Or… speaking at all, apparently.”
A ripple of laughter.
“I’ve spent years chasing things that were supposed to matter. Jobs. Promotions. Relationships that look good in pictures but feel hollow when the camera’s gone. I told myself I was fine. Sometimes I even believed it.” My throat tightens. “But fine isn’t the same as full.”
I pause. Hold back the tears threatening me. The silence deepens.
“We love you Jules!” Riot shouts followed by some cheers and clapping.
“Calvin dug a hole in my heart a long time ago. I thought it was a wound. But time didn’t close it. It became space. And nothing I tried to fill it with fit.”
I glance at him. His eyes soften into me.
“So yeah, I’m rambling. I don’t know what I’m trying to say, except this. Calvin, I don’t want easy. I don’t want perfect. I want you, too. Storms and all.”
The truth doesn’t need polish. It just needs air.
The silence after is unbearable and beautiful. I hear the wind, the faint hum of the amps, the crowd holding its breath. Faith presses her hands to her lips. Maddie blinks fast, wet-eyed. Riot looks like he might combust. Mrs. Dorsey whispers something like a prayer.
But I only see Calvin. And he only sees me.
For a breath, no one moves. The silence holds, thick and trembling.
Then Cara claps once, loud and sharp, and the whole square erupts. Whistles. Stomps. Cheers strong enough to rattle the string lights overhead.
Calvin steps forward. Not to speak. Not to claim. Just to hold out his hand. His palm waits until I take it.
We step back together, out of the spotlight, as the bandleader leans into the mic, eyes wide like he knows he has just seen something rare.
“Well,” he says, voice carrying over the noise, “I have seen guitar solos drop jaws, but I don’t think any of us expected tonight’s headliner to be a love story ten years in the making.”
The square laughs, softer, relieved.
He strums once, grinning. “That’s the thing about open mic. You never know if it will be a song, a joke, or an act of love that changes everything.”
He nods to the band, and the beat slides back in.
Noise swells. Voices, laughter, movement everywhere.
We step down, one stair at a time, until the stage is behind us.
Calvin doesn’t let go. He guides me toward the shadowed edge of the square, away from the lights until the crowd feels a world apart.
His hand finds my waist. We move in a small, unspoken sway, just us.
He dips his head, breath warm against my ear. “That was brave,” he murmurs. “The bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”
My chest stumbles. A smile breaks across my face before I can stop it.
He presses a kiss to my temple, quiet as a vow.
This isn’t for anyone else. It’s ours.