Chapter 10
Taylor
Taylor locked the café door with a sigh so heavy it felt like it carried the weight of an entire circus. All day she’d endured sidelong looks, smirks, and unsolicited congratulations from townsfolk who apparently believed her personal life was community property.
She was ready to crawl into bed, hide under the covers, and never emerge.
Instead, Ryan was waiting by his truck, leaning against it like he had all the time in the world. His hands were shoved into his jacket pockets, his posture easy, but his eyes tracked her every step.
“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” she asked, tucking her cafe keys into her bag.
“Here’s good,” he said. Then he held up a folded note.
Her heart stuttered.
He crossed to her and placed it in her palm, his fingers brushing hers deliberately. Taylor opened it, breath catching as she read:
“Even heroines need a soundtrack. Go where the music plays, third button from the top. The story continues there.”
She stared at it, pulse racing. “The diner.”
Ryan’s mouth quirked. “Good deduction, Sherlock. Let’s go.”
The diner was nearly empty, just a few regulars nursing coffee and the tired-looking waitress refilling cups. Taylor’s nerves jittered as she walked to the old jukebox against the wall.
She pressed the third button from the top. The machine whirred, and a familiar song crackled to life—her guilty-pleasure, cheesy love ballad she only ever played when no one else was around.
Her cheeks burned. “Oh, no.”
Ryan grinned. “Oh, yes.”
She turned to scold him, but he was already holding out his hand. “Dance with me.”
“What if I was supposed to dance with my secret admirer, and you just keep running him off?”
“I think it’s pretty clear that this is my intent. You gonna go against the town hall edict and pick some creeper who won’t show his face?”
“You wanna dance together in public?”
He leaned closer, his voice low. “Pretty sure after today, your love life is already a public broadcast.”
She wanted to argue. She wanted to say no. But when he closed his hand around hers and tugged gently, her body betrayed her.
They moved to the open space near the jukebox, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, the linoleum floor sticky in places. Hardly romantic. And yet, when Ryan slid an arm around her waist and guided her into the slow sway of the music, the whole world fell away.
Taylor let herself lean into him, her head brushing his chest. His heartbeat was steady, his warmth seeping into her until her bones felt molten.
Taylor’s cheek brushed against the fabric of Ryan’s jacket, the faint scent of cedar and soap clinging to him. The song crooned through the diner’s scratchy speakers, syrupy and dramatic, the kind of ballad teenagers slow-danced to in gymnasiums decorated with crepe paper.
She smiled despite herself. “God, this song is so embarrassing.”
Ryan’s laugh rumbled low in his chest. “Embarrassing maybe. But kind of perfect.”
Her head tilted back so she could look up at him. “Perfect? It’s a prom cliché.”
His lips curved into a smirk. “Exactly. Don’t you remember? This was the song you taught me to dance to.”
Taylor blinked. “What?”
He leaned in a little closer, his voice quieter, almost coaxing. “Junior year. I was supposed to take Madison Reed to prom, but I didn’t know how to dance. You caught me panicking in the gym the week before, remember? You said you’d help me figure it out.”
Memories bloomed, sweet and sharp. The gym had been nearly empty after school, sunlight streaming through high windows, the smell of floor wax thick in the air.
She’d laughed when Ryan admitted he had two left feet.
She’d placed his hands on her waist, guided him through the steps, her heart racing so fast she thought it might burst.
And yes, this ridiculous love song had been playing on the stereo someone left running.
Taylor’s throat tightened. “I didn’t think you remembered that.”
Ryan’s eyes softened. “Of course I remembered. I remember everything about that day. Especially how much I didn’t want it to end.”
Her heart thudded. “Then why didn’t you just…take me to prom?”
His gaze held hers, steady and unflinching. “Because you were Emma’s best friend. And I’d already screwed up enough by wanting you when I shouldn’t. You were off-limits.”
Taylor’s breath caught, her fingers tightening in his jacket. The jukebox warbled through another verse, but all she could hear was the pounding of her own heart.
She whispered, “You wanted to take me?”
Ryan’s jaw flexed, as if he was wrestling with whether to hold something back. Then, finally, his mouth tipped into a wry half-smile. “More than anything.”
The words landed in her chest like fire, like truth she’d been aching to hear for nearly a decade.
And for a long moment, as they swayed in the glow of neon lights and half-empty coffee cups, it felt like the years between them disappeared.
Taylor’s heart was still hammering as she tried to breathe around what Ryan had just admitted. More than anything. He’d wanted her more than anything.
She swallowed, needing to lighten the air before she floated away on the weight of it. Her eyes swept the room, the checkered floors, the worn vinyl booths, the chrome trim dulled from years of use. “It’s weird being back here at night. I feel like we spent half our childhood in this diner.”
Ryan’s mouth curved. “More than half. Emma practically lived off grilled cheese and milkshakes for three years straight.”
Taylor laughed, the memory slipping out before she could stop it. “She used to dunk the French fries in her strawberry shake and make us both do it too. Said it was the ultimate food combo.”
Ryan chuckled. “Yeah, until she got sick in my car and swore she’d never touch strawberry again.”
Taylor winced, grinning. “You were so mad at her.”
“I had just washed the car,” Ryan said, but there was no heat in his voice. “Besides, I should’ve expected chaos. Anytime you two were together in here, something went wrong.”
Taylor gasped in mock offense. “Hey, I was the responsible one!”
Ryan arched a brow. “Responsible? You climbed on the counter one night to switch the jukebox songs while Emma dared you to do a tap dance while you were up there.”
Taylor pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. “That was a very important mission. The jukebox had been stuck on country for an hour, and the tap dance was for kicks and giggles.”
“And you nearly broke your neck.”
She shrugged. “Worth it.”
Ryan shook his head, but he was smiling at her in that quiet way again, like he was remembering not just the chaos, but the way she’d always been right there, woven into his family, into Emma’s laughter, into his life.
“You know,” Taylor said softly, “Emma and I used to sit in that booth—” she pointed to the corner one with the cracked red vinyl “—and plan out our futures. She’d say she was going to marry a rock star. I said I was going to write books and live in Paris.”
Ryan’s smile faded into something gentler. “You’re halfway there, Tay. You are writing books.”
Her stomach flipped. She hated how much it meant that he’d said that, so casually, so confidently, like it wasn’t a secret shame. She looked down at the USB drive in her hand, her throat tightening.
Ryan’s fingers brushed hers, steadying her. “And Paris…maybe that’s still waiting.”
Taylor blinked at him, her chest aching. This was supposed to be a silly jukebox clue. A ridiculous dance. Instead, it felt like the whole diner had shifted, all their memories crowding in to remind her how much he’d always been part of her story.
The song faded, but Ryan didn’t let her go right away. He just looked at her, as if memorizing something important. Finally, he pointed to the side of the jukebox, to something she hadn’t noticed before. Tapes to the side was a USB drive, labeled in neat handwriting: For the heroine.
Her breath caught.
Ryan’s voice was low, teasing, but there was weight behind it. “Guess your admirer wants to make sure you’ve always got music to go with your story.”
Taylor’s fingers closed tight around it.
“Music, yes, but what if there’s more to it?” she asked.
Ryan gave her a wide grin. “Only one way to find out.”
* * *
The ride back to her apartment was a blur of neon signs and the USB clutched tight in her hand.
Taylor’s nerves buzzed with anticipation, half from the dance, half from the thought of inviting Ryan inside.
When she unlocked the door and pushed it open, she tried not to think about how it had been years since anyone but Emma had stepped foot past that threshold.
Ryan lingered just inside, hands shoved into his jacket pockets as he looked around. “Cozy,” he said.
“It’s small.” She tossed her bag on the counter and booted up her laptop. “Don’t get too comfortable. We’re just here to see what’s on this thing.”
He smirked, watching her fumble with the USB. “Sure. Just business.”
Taylor shot him a look, but her cheeks betrayed her with heat. She plugged it in, the drive humming to life. A folder appeared on her desktop labeled: For the heroine.
She clicked it open.
Music files filled the screen. Song after song, each one painfully familiar.
Taylor’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my God. These are…”
“Our high school playlist,” Ryan finished quietly, stepping closer.
It was true. Each title jolted her with memories. The song Emma made them scream-sing in the car on the way to football games. The ballad Taylor had once scribbled lyrics to in the margins of her math notebook. The track Ryan had blasted on repeat the summer he got his first truck.
Taylor’s chest ached. “Whoever’s doing this…they know everything.”
Ryan’s eyes flickered. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “They do.”
She clicked the last file in the list, expecting another song. Instead, a PDF opened. A single line of text scrolled across the screen:
“Back to where wishes begin. Look beneath the fountain.”
Taylor’s breath caught. “The park.”