Chapter 40
Wren
“Makes me want a hot dog real bad.”
“You want a hot dog at seven o’clock in the morning?” Jett asks, startling me from my spot on the couch.
I giggle and pause the TV. “No, silly.”
He appears in the doorway, barefoot and missing a shirt, holding a plate stacked with eggs, potatoes, and sausage.
This is the way I’ve come to recognize him in the mornings.
It’s a sight I’ve very much enjoyed. His chiseled abs cut from granite and winding ink.
I discreetly wipe my lip with my thumb, in case of drool.
His attention flicks to the screen, nose scrunching. “What are you watching?”
I roll my eyes. “Only Elle Woods, the genius behind the bend and snap.”
“Jesus, woman. It’s too early for your nonsense.”
I pat the cushion beside me, inviting Jett to sit. “You love me.”
He hands me a plate before dropping down beside me. “I tolerate you.”
“Liar.”
His thigh is warm against my bare skin. I love our mornings spent together. I’m glad he decided to take the morning off and stay home with me. I press play and Legally Blonde resumes.
“I remember this movie,” he mumbles, mouth full.
I tip my nose in disgust. “Chew and swallow.”
He rolls his eyes.
“You should remember it. I watch it every Fourth of July.
“Since you were twelve, I know.”
“It’s patriotic.”
He chokes on his coffee. “How so?”
“She looks like the Fourth of July!”
“One line? About a hot dog.”
I shrug, and we both chuckle.
Silence falls over the room as the movie plays in the background. Our forks clink as we eat breakfast. Placing my empty plate on the table, I rest my head on his shoulder. His heavy arm wraps around me, pulling me in close.
Even with one of my favorite movies playing on the screen, I can feel the tension rolling off him in waves. It’s in the way his jaw clenches, eyes drifting from the TV to the window as he stares out over the field.
He’s somewhere else. Fighting an invisible battle and keeping something locked tight behind his armored walls.
There’s a storm brewing. I feel it in my bones.
By noon, the town is alive.
Main Street is bustling. Jett finds a rare empty spot near The Spillway, which means we’ll have to walk to the festival.
Good thing I wore sensible shoes, per Jett’s request. But don’t worry, I won’t tell him it was a good idea to wear flat shoes and not my wedges, even though they look better with my dress.
He laces his fingers through mine the second we step out of the truck, eyes scanning every direction.
“Relax,” I murmur. “You look like you’re going to clear the area.”
“Habit.”
I eye him skeptically, not believing it’s a habit.
Nuzzling into his side, I press up onto my toes to leave a kiss on his sharp jaw. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His grip tightens, lips curling slightly. “I know.”
But his eyes keep moving.
Music plays on the speakers hanging from lampposts as we walk toward the lakeside park.
Silo Bay is known for its summer festivals and is a tourist destination as soon as warm weather hits. With Lake Drummond attracting boaters all over the state and Sunset Shores being the number one resort in Ohio, people flock to our tiny town from May through fall.
Our town fuels tourists with festivals and special events each weekend. You’ll never run out of things to do in Silo Bay. You can find car and boat shows, craft fairs, festivals, and everything in between. But this weekend is my favorite.
I’ve missed the Silo Bay Fourth of July Lake Spectacular.
We walk to the park in comfortable silence. Jett greets people with a handshake or a dip of his head, but his hand never leaves mine. A prickling crawls up my spine and stays there. Everywhere we go, eyes are on us.
When will the newness wear off? Will my fellow Silo Bay natives get tired of seeing me? And with Jett?
As much fun as the Silo Bay Buzz can be, it’s a toxic group for people to bitch about everything.
I’m sure it was created with good intentions, but now it feels like a filthy gossip rag.
I’m tired of my face being the center of attention, especially after I visited with Davis.
They tried to control the narrative by saying there was trouble in paradise between Jett and me.
How wrong were they?
We pass a kettle corn stand, sugar and butter thick in the air. I groan as the smell floods my senses.
“Want some?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
A local band plays on the stage under the pavilion, their voices carrying across the park, mixing with the laughter of kids on rides.
We walk past the Scrambler, and I chuckle at the sight. The silver pods spin violently as kids squeal with each rotation of the arm.
“Remember when you puked on the Scrambler?” I ask, pointing to the dizzying ride.
Jett groans. “I told you I can’t do rotation.”
“I called you a chicken.”
“So, obviously, I had to prove you wrong.”
“Except you barfed funnel cake all over the pavement.”
He clutches his stomach, averting his gaze from the ride.
“Good thing you grew up braver.”
“Is that so, Whiskey?” His voice is sultry, laced with innuendo. I nestle into his side, our gazes locked. Heat flares, mixing with the Cerulean hue.
“Get a room,” someone shouts, interrupting our moment.
I glance over my shoulder and find a pink-cheeked Audrey watching us as her friends laugh. She waves, leaving her friends to cross the sidewalk toward us.
“Sorry about them.”
“No need.” I pull her in for a hug, which she graciously accepts.
She slips free and throws her arms around Jett’s waist. “Hey, Uncle Jett.”
“Hey, kid. Having fun?”
She nods, glancing toward her friends who are lost in their phones.
“Your dad off today?”
“He’s at Sunset Shores with everyone else. I’m surprised you guys aren’t with them.”
“Someone”—Jett shrugs his shoulder in my direction—“wanted to be nostalgic.”
I dip my head, trying to hide my giggle. Audrey raises her eyebrow. “Do I want to know?”
“No,” Jett says at the same time I say, “Yes.”
“I was reminding him of the time he puked on the Scrambler.”
Audrey shivers. “You rode that? You’d gag when you’d spin me in circles when I was little.”
“The things we do for the people we love,” he grumbles.
“Audrey, you coming?”
She looks at us, and we wave her off.
“Go. Have fun,” I tell her.
“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do,” Jett adds, and a smirk curves her lips.
I shake my head. “I sure hope she has a better head on her shoulders than we did.”
With Audrey on her way, we leave the ride area and walk toward the vendors. We move from booth to booth, admiring hand-poured candles, metal signs, kids selling candy for the rec department, where Jett buys a few Twix bars.
“Better eat them now,” I tell him. “They’ll be chocolate soup in this heat.”
He shrugs. “Not hungry, but wanted to donate.”
“That’s sweet of you.”
He slips his hand on my lower back, guiding me through the maze of people.
Up ahead, we wave to Jacob and Abby Pierce as they pull a wagon with Clementine and Marigold through the crowd.
What must it be like to experience this festival with a family?
Watching your kids ride on ponies, sharing treats, and creating memories.
It sounds like something I hope to have one day.
Jett stops us at another booth. It’s a table filled with jewelry. Each one is intricate and unique.
My attention narrows on the necklace displayed on a black stand.
I glide my fingers over the smooth silver, admiring the turquoise stones.
Each one is uneven in the most beautiful, imperfect way.
But it’s the center that captures my full attention.
Bold pendant blooms—a small sunburst of turquoise petals set in silver, radiant and delicate.
I trace the edges lightly, feeling a pull deep in my chest.
“Ah, looks like my necklace has picked a new owner,” the lady behind the table says.
“It’s stunning,” I reply, glancing up at the older woman with gray hair and sun-worn skin. “You do beautiful work.”
She dips her head in thanks. “You two make a lovely couple.”
Jett presses a kiss to my temple. “She makes us look good.”
I lightly slap his hard stomach. “Whatever.”
“We’ll take this necklace,” Jett tells the woman. “And those earrings.” He points to a dainty pair of studs with matching turquoise.
“Jett…” I start to protest, knowing these pieces aren’t cheap.
He brushes me off, slipping out his wallet and handing over his credit card.
Reaching for the necklace, he carefully unclasps the clip.
I gather my hair, lifting my locks out of his way as he slips the necklace around my neck, lining it up next to the one he gave me all those years ago.
The silver is cool against my heated skin.
I smile down at the pendant, admiring its beauty.
The woman hands Jett a bag with the earrings, which I take, tucking it in my purse to keep them safe. Once we get to Sunset Shores, and I have a safe place to rest, I’ll swap my earrings.
By the time we reach the lake’s edge, the water ski show is starting. People stand multiple rows deep while others sit on the wall separating the road from the walkway that winds around this side of the lake.
Boats roar to life, pulling skiers who cut across the surface in synchronized movements. The crowd cheers when one skier climbs onto another’s shoulders, creating a cheerleader-style pyramid.
I cheer and clap loudly. “I forgot how impressive this is.”
Jett slips his arm around my waist, drawing me closer as we walk down the pathway toward Sunset Shores. I feel him, but his mind doesn’t seem to be present. He’s in protective mode, coiled like a rattlesnake and waiting to snap, biting whatever threat he finds.
“Hey.” I nudge. “I love you, but it’s too goddamn hot to be this close.”
He grunts, eyes softening a fraction. “Sorry, I was—”
“Protecting me,” I finish. “I’m safe, J. Relax and have fun.”
“I’m trying.”
As we approach the lighthouse, I grab Jett’s hand, pulling him along behind me.
“C’mon.”