Chapter 13
Hadley
After dinner, we clean up together.
Well—mostly together.
I try to help, but Rob keeps gently nudging me aside, taking containers from my hands, packing everything back into the basket like he’s done this a hundred times before.
“Careful, Cookie,” he murmurs at one point when our fingers brush. “You’ll spoil me if you keep helping.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling.
Gods, I’m smiling so much tonight my cheeks actually hurt.
By the time we’re done, the festival is winding down around us.
Lights flicker off one by one, vendors calling out goodbyes, laughter fading into the night.
The air feels softer now—quieter. Like the whole town is exhaling after a long day.
Tommy texted earlier—they closed up the shop without any issues.
Jack’s doing the deposit run.
Everything’s handled.
Which means for once?
I don’t have anything pulling me in a different direction.
No responsibilities.
No stress.
Just this.
Rob takes my hand as we start walking, the picnic basket swinging easily from his other hand.
His fingers lace through mine like it’s natural.
Like it’s always been this way.
And I—I let him.
Because the truth is?
I haven’t felt this good in a really long time.
Light.
Happy.
Wanted.
“Hadley,” he says quietly, his voice deeper now in the hush of the evening, “I don’t want tonight to end.”
My heart stutters.
Because I know exactly what he means.
And the scary part?
I feel it too.
“I—I don’t either,” I admit.
We walk a few more steps, the gravel crunching under our feet.
“Look,” he starts, “I know we have things to talk about—”
My stomach tightens immediately.
The Fates.
The app.
Date to Mate.
His rejection.
Mine.
All of it.
Too much.
Too soon.
So I squeeze his hand, stopping him gently.
“How about,” I say softly, glancing up at him, “we forget about all that tonight?”
He frowns slightly.
“All what?”
“The magical matchmaking dating app,” I clarify. “The Fates. Mating.” I shrug one shoulder. “All of it. Just for tonight.”
His expression shifts.
Softens.
“But you are my fated mate, Hadley,” he says, low and certain. “I messed up before, I know that—”
“I know,” I cut in gently. “And we’ll talk about it. We will.”
I step a little closer to him, my voice dropping.
“But right now?” I whisper, my gaze flicking to his mouth and back. “I’d really rather kiss you.”
There’s a beat.
And then I see it.
His eyes flare—bright, intense, heat sparking between us so fast it makes my breath hitch.
The air changes.
Thickens.
“Yeah?” he murmurs.
I nod.
“Yeah.”
His hand tightens around mine, and for a second I think he’s going to pull me in right there—but instead, he leans back just enough to study me.
“Wanna see my house?” he asks.
I blink.
“You have a house?”
He huffs a soft laugh, like I just asked if he owns shoes.
“Yeah, Cookie. I’ve got a house.”
Something about the way he says it—confident.
Steady.
Safe.
With a hint of vulnerability.
It makes something warm bloom in my chest.
I smile.
“Sure,” I say. “I’d love to see it.”
His grin is slow. Satisfied.
Like he just won something.
He doesn’t let go of my hand as he leads me to his truck, opening the door for me before walking around to the driver’s side.
And when we pull away from the festival?
The lights fading behind us, the night stretching out ahead, I realize something.
This doesn’t feel reckless.
It doesn’t feel like a mistake.
It feels like the beginning of something I’m not quite ready to name.
Ten minutes later, he turns down a quiet road.
And there it is.
His place.
And suddenly?
My heart is racing all over again.