Avalon
Clarke had been right—Opal Springs knew how to have fun, and the Founder’s Day Rodeo was quickly becoming my favorite event of the entire summer.
Halston Acres, usually just a wide stretch of empty land fifteen minutes outside town, had transformed into a buzzing fairground packed with vendors, families, and more horses than I’d ever seen in one place.
It felt like a miniature carnival—if carnivals came with cowboys and the smell of hay.
After leading us through the crowd toward the fenced-in arena, Ethan peeled off to find the King siblings.
A part of me wanted to follow him, to catch Clarke before her show and maybe steal a kiss or two, but I couldn’t leave Aunt Brie alone.
God only knew what kind of trouble she’d get into the moment I turned my back.
So instead, we wandered through the vendor stalls. Food had always been our shared love language—especially since my mother treated sugar like a controlled substance.
“God, this deep-fried Oreo tastes better than sex,” Brie moaned, eyes fluttering shut as she bit into the dessert. Powdered sugar dusted the tip of her nose, and a smear of chocolate clung to the corner of her mouth. “Here, try it.”
I took the piece she offered and bit into it carefully, trying not to coat myself in sugar. The sweetness hit instantly, warm and decadent, and a soft sound escaped me before I could stop it.
“That is really good,” I murmured, wiping my hands on a napkin. We stood in the center of the open-air food court, the stables visible just a short walk away.
“You don’t like it, do you?” Brie sighed, tossing the empty plate into a trashcan. “What’s wrong? You usually love this kind of stuff.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I laughed, forcing the sound to come out light. My eyes drifted back toward the stables—and this time, Brie followed my gaze.
“You want to go see her?” she asked, nodding toward the barns.
I shook my head. “I don’t want to distract her. Winning this means a lot to her.” I smiled and nudged her shoulder. “Besides, someone has to keep you from getting into trouble.”
Brie pressed a hand to her chest in mock offense. “Who, me? I have never—okay, maybe a few times.”
I laughed—a real one this time. “Remember that time in Santa Monica when you got so drunk and impatient you started helping the waitstaff bring out food?”
She burst into laughter, covering her mouth. Her eyes crinkled, her nose scrunched like a rabbit’s—the same expression she’d had since I was a kid.
“I think I’m still banned from that restaurant,” she said between giggles. “But someone’s grandfather tipped me two hundred dollars for my ‘exceptional service.’”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Granna so angry,” I snorted. “Kennedy women do not wait tables!”
Brie tossed her head back, laughing harder. “I swear there were flames coming out of her ears. Ansel looked disappointed, and your mother—ugh.”
A shiver ran through her, and her smile faded. She chewed her bottom lip, clearly holding something back—which was unlike her.
“We should go down and see Clarke,” she said abruptly, looping her arm through mine. Whatever she’d been thinking vanished behind her bright smile. “It’ll help that look of yearning leave your face.”
I snorted. “There is no look on my face.”
“How would you know?” she teased. “You can’t see your face.”
I laughed again. “Aren’t you terrified of horses?”
“Oh, absolutely,” she said instantly, just as her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She glanced at the screen, muttered a curse, and looked around.
“Hey, I need to take this. You go ahead.” She pressed the phone to her ear, still nudging me forward. “I’ll head back to our seats.”
I touched her elbow, concern flickering. “Are you sure? Everything okay?”
“Yeah, of course. It’s just the club.” She forced a smile and kissed my temple. “Go find your girl.”
“She’s not—” I started, but Brie had already disappeared into the crowd.
I knew her too well to believe that call was work. We were too similar—both of us terrible at hiding anything from each other.
But now wasn’t the time to play detective.
I had to find Clarke.