Chapter 19
The lake shimmers silver under the stars, its shoreline crowded with people and glowing lanterns waiting to rise.
Through it all, Linc’s hand holds mine as he guides me toward the quiet dock, steady and sure, like it’s belonged there all along.
It shouldn’t feel this easy, this natural. But there’s no panic clawing at my chest, no second-guessing. Just a quiet certainty that settles me.
At the end of the dock, a lone fisherman awaits, a flashlight swinging from his hand as he steadies the canoe. Inside rests a folded blanket, a small basket of supplies, and a single glowing lantern.
I scan the empty water before looking up at Linc. “We’re allowed to watch out on the lake? How did you manage that?”
His smirk is pure arrogance. “Told you, Goldilocks. I’ve got connections.” He tips his chin toward the older man. “Even convinced Jack here to track down more dandelions, since mine blew to shit.”
He didn’t.
Jack points down at the bench, pride written in the lines of his weathered face. “Found some big beauties too. Should be able to get plenty of wishes out of those bad boys.”
A laugh escapes, my heart warming at the gesture. “Wow. Thank you, Jack.”
“Anytime.” His grin is easy. “Just give me a ring, I know where to find the good ones now.”
Linc cuts back in, voice teasing. “Hey, old man. Get your own woman.”
Jack chuckles good-naturedly, the light catching the grooves of his face. “All right, let’s get you two out on the water.”
He kneels, bracing the canoe while Linc offers me his hand.
I step inside carefully, the wood rocking beneath me.
“Steady now,” Jack murmurs.
Once I’m settled, Linc climbs in with practiced ease, taking the paddles from Jack and thanking him.
I glance back at the fisherman, offering my own smile. “Yes, thank you, Jack. For everything.”
He tips his chin, eyes kind. “You two be safe now.”
With a single push, the canoe drifts free, and Jack disappears down the dock, leaving us surrounded by nothing but water and stars.
The crowd on the shore fades into a blur as we drift outward. The only sound the dip of paddles as Linc guides us toward the heart of the lake.
I lean over the side, trailing my fingers along the glassy surface.
The ice water bites against my skin, sharp enough to steal my breath.
“God, I forget how cold it is,” I laugh, flicking the droplets away.
Linc smirks, eyes catching the faint glow between us. “Remember when a bunch of us would come down here, and dare each other to jump in?”
“Every summer,” I say, the memory tugging at me. “Half the high school would be packed onto these docks.”
He leans on the paddles, grin widening. “Did you ever do it?”
“No way. I wasn’t stupid like the rest of you.”
He laughs, not offended in the least by that statement.
“But I’ll never forget the night Matthew Shepherd shoved me in,” I grumble, my words bitter. “Scraped my knees up bad.”
It still burns just thinking about it. I was so pissed I wanted to drive his truck straight into the lake.
“I remember hearing about that.” Linc’s voice drops, edged with something darker. “I socked the bastard good for it.”
The words hit like a shock, freezing me in place.
My head tips, eyes studying him. “You’re lying.”
“Honest to god.” He lifts a hand, palm out. “Ask Gunnar. He was with me.”
I wait for that telltale smirk, the crack in his expression that always gives him away, but it never comes. “You’re serious?”
He nods.
“Why?” the question comes out softer than I expect.
“Because he hurt you,” he says, as if the answer is that simple. “I wasn’t going to let him get away with that.”
My heart bursts, flooding every corner of my chest, bearing a truth I can no longer deny.
All these years I convinced myself Linc Masters was the villain of my story, when the truth is, he’s been the hero all along.
“Besides,” he adds, leaning forward with that cocky smirk, “no one’s allowed to hurt your feelings but me.”
A laugh slips out, tangled with the emotion he just unleashed. “You just had to ruin the moment, didn’t you?”
He doesn’t even try to look sorry about it. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”
Even when he’s impossible, he still manages to pull a smile out of me. “Well, just for that, you’re never getting your hoodie back.”
His brows lift, disbelief flashing across his features. “Don’t tell me you still have that thing.”
“Yep.” My voice is light, though the memory behind it isn’t. “I thought about torching it after I left that day, but then I felt bad since you probably weren’t the one who paid for it. So, I kept it and wore it whenever I felt like it. Figured it would piss you off if you ever found out.”
Actually, I used to wear it when I missed home, because even the familiarity of our rivalry felt like something worth holding onto.
He doesn’t bite back at my satisfaction like I expect. He’s watching me now, something quieter taking shape in his expression.
“I was kidding, Masters. You can have it back.”
He shakes his head, his voice rough with something I can’t name. “I don’t want it back…but I’d like to see you in it.”
The heat in his gaze cuts through me, sparking low and deep until the rest of the world fades to static. Before I can find my voice, a crackle sounds over the distant speakers, announcing the countdown will begin soon.
“We’ll pull up here.” Linc angles the canoe into a quiet pocket of the lake, slowing the oars until we drift to stillness. Then he reaches down, lifting the lantern at his feet, and holds it out to me.
“You don’t want to release it?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I got it for you, Goldilocks.”
My heart warms as I take the lantern from him. Our fingers brush in the exchange, barely a touch, but it sends a current racing through me, the kind that lingers, the kind I’ll feel long after tonight fades.
“You’ll need to give it a little push when you let go,” he murmurs.
I nod, cradling the lantern carefully between us.
The countdown swells from the shore, voices rising in unison, carrying across the water.
“Ten. Nine. Eight…”
My pulse skips with each number, thudding in my chest as I hold Linc’s gaze.
“Three. Two. One.”
I release the lantern with a gentle push, my head tipping back as I watch it drift upward.
It climbs slow and sure, rising to join all the others already afloat. Together they form a constellation, like a cluster of golden fireflies chasing the stars.
On instinct, I ease onto my back across the padded bench, my eyes fixed skyward, chest swelling with a sense of magic I haven’t felt in years.
Linc doesn’t speak. He only watches me, as if knowing I need every second of this.
For several moments, there’s only silence, filled with the faint lap of water against the canoe.
Until I break it.
“If I ever get married…I want it to look just like this.” The thought slips out, soft as the night around us. “By the lake. Under the stars. Quiet. Private…”
Linc leans back, the paddle resting across his knees. “Tell me about it, Goldilocks.” His voice come out low and thoughtful. “What does a wedding planner’s dream day look like?”
There’s no missing the assumption in that question. ‘I can’t speak for every wedding planner, but mine won’t look anything like the ones I plan,” I confess, the words easing out on a breath. “It won’t be rushed or crowded. It’ll be intimate. Calm. A day meant to be savored.”
Each syllable drifts into the quiet, carrying me toward a vision I’ve held for years.
“I’ll wake up surrounded by my closest friends, the room buzzing with laughter and excitement.
We’ll sip mimosas while curling irons hum and polish dries on our toes.
The ceremony will be at golden hour, right as the sun dips behind the mountains.
I’ll walk barefoot down a twinkling aisle to the edge of the lake.
Dinner under the stars, soft music across the water… a slow, barefoot dance on the dock.”
The picture settles around me, so vivid it almost feels real, the kind of dream that clings to the edges of my heart.
“What about the groom?” Linc asks, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.
I lift my head, shooting him a look. “What about him? I thought this was my dream we were talking about.”
That earns a laugh, deep and rich, the sound wrapping around me like a warm blanket. “Touché.”
I lie back down, a quiet smile touching my lips.
The truth is, that part has always been hazy. I’ve never been able to picture the face of my groom or the cut of his suit. What I see instead is the way he’ll look at me, like I’m the only person there. Like I’m his world, and nothing—not time or distance—could ever change it.
Linc speaks again, his tone laced with insufferable smugness. “Gotta say, Goldilocks, you’ve thought a lot about this day for someone who doesn’t believe in the fairytale.”
That look on his face is even more maddening under the wash of moonlight.
“You trying to piss me off, Masters?”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Just calling it like I see it.”
I huff, but the truth is, I hate how easily he can read me, how he always manages to see everything I try to hide.
Looking away, I push upright and sift through the scatter of dandelions beside me. My fingers pause on the largest of the bunch, its white crown still intact, soft and delicate against my touch.
For a moment I just hold it, the delicate seeds glowing pale beneath the moonlight. Then, lifting the stem to my lips, I close my eyes and let my breath slip free.
The wish escapes, one I’ve carried for years, buried deep beneath my ribs.
When I open my eyes again, Linc is watching me. Quiet. Intent. As if the rest of the world has fallen away, and I’m the only person left.
“What did you wish for?” he asks, the question edged with quiet curiosity.
“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”
He grunts, unconvinced, but lets me keep my secret.
Picking up another stem, I hold it out between us. “Your turn. Make a wish.”
I expect him to scoff at the request. Instead, he leans in and gently blows, his breath dancing across my fingertips.
The seeds scatter into the night, drifting away like tiny sparks set free.
“What did you wish for?” I ask, trying to be coy, but it comes out breathless.
His gaze never leaves mine as he answers. “Another date.”
The words land in my chest, sinking into the most fragile part of me.
He lifts his hand, knuckles grazing my cheek with aching gentleness. “I want more, Harlow. More nights like this. More moments that aren’t blurred by the past. I want to see where this goes.”
Hope and fear war inside of me. “What if it doesn’t work out?”
His expression never wavers, steady and unflinching. “Then we go back to what we’ve always done. Pretend to hate each other, even if it’s the furthest thing from the truth.”
Because that’s what this has always been. A pretense. It's never been about hate. He’s infuriated me, challenged me, made me want to scream and kiss him in the same breath…but I’ve never hated Linc Masters. Not even for a second.
“Okay,” I breathe, leaning into his touch.
His eyes search mine, as if he needs to hear it again. “Yeah?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
A slow, sinful smirk spreads across his face. “Give me that mouth, Goldilocks. I’ve waited long enough.”
He doesn’t give me the chance to argue—doesn’t even let me breathe—just claims what we both can no longer deny.
I fall into the kiss, moaning as my arms loop around his neck.
His hands grip hard, dragging me forward until I’m straddling his lap. The canoe rocks beneath us but neither of us care. The only thing that exists right now is the hard length of him pressing between my thighs, and the skirt bunched high around my waist.
“Goddamn, I missed this,” he rasps against my mouth, voice shredded.
“Same. So much.”
Some nights, the ache of wanting him was so much I didn’t know how I ever survived without it.
My jacket slips from my shoulders, his mouth following the path down, tasting every inch of exposed skin. When his mouth closes over my breast through the thin fabric of my tank, a shiver bolts through me so sharp I cry out.
“Linc.” His name tears free on a breath. “Here, now.”
The guttural sound he makes vibrates through my chest as his hands fumble with his jeans, urgency locked in every frantic motion. He frees himself with a desperate tug, the blunt head of his cock nudging against the silk of my panties—hot, heavy, the promise of him making my pulse stumble.
The second he pushes the barrier aside, I sink down, inch by aching inch, until he’s buried to the hilt.
The stretch steals my air, the fullness undoing me in the most devastating, exquisite way.
“Fuck, Harlow,” he groans, his grip locking around my hips as if he’ll never let me go. “You feel this, baby? This right here, worth every fucking risk.”
He’s right. Right now, wrapped around him, his name breaking from my lips, his hands anchoring me to him, I wouldn’t trade a single second.
Above us, lanterns float across the sky, their light scattering across the rippling water. And in that glow, caught between memory and magic, I let myself believe. Not just this, but maybe the fairytale too.