Chapter 12
Ethan
By the time I parked, the yard was already buzzing.
Matt stood at the grill with a spatula in hand, working it with the precision he probably used in the clinic.
Sarah wove around him with platters. Ava’s curls bounced as she cannonballed off the pool steps, Lucas flailing after her in his floaties while Kayla kept a sharp eye from the deck, towel slung over her shoulder.
“Ethan Calloway!” Sarah called the second she spotted me. “Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence.”
Ben stood by the cooler, beer in hand, grinning. “Well, well. Calloway lives. Thought you’d locked yourself in that bookstore for good.”
“Was tempted,” I muttered, though my lips tugged upward.
“Don’t let him fool you,” Matt said over his shoulder, flipping a row of burgers. “He just wanted to make an entrance.”
Sarah snorted. “An entrance requires enthusiasm. That”—she waved her hand at me—“is pure sulking.”
Laughter rippled across the deck, and despite myself, some of the heaviness slipped. I picked up a beer from the cooler and let their noise pull me in.
Ian spotted me and came barreling over. “Uncle Ethan! I finished that Goosebumps book you gave me—Night of the Living Dummy. It was awesome. Creepy, but awesome.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Classic R.L. Stine. So, what’d you think? Too scary?”
He shook his head hard. “No way. I read it with the flashlight under my blanket, and Mom thought I was asleep. Got another one?”
“Plenty,” I said. “You’d like The Haunted Mask. That one’s even better.”
“Sweet!” He sprinted back toward the pool, splashing Kayla with a masterfully executed cannonball.
Maggie wandered up beside me, giving me a quick side hug. “Thanks for keeping him hooked on something that isn’t Nintendo,” she said, pride sneaking into her voice. “Kid’s been reading night and day.”
“Occupational hazard,” I joked.
Sarah joined us with a stack of napkins. “So, Ethan,” she said with a smile, “I heard you’ve got a new partner-in-crime for the fair.”
Maggie’s eyes sparked. “Lily Harper. We met her at Scoops after her first day. She’s, what did we say, a walking espresso shot.”
At the mention of her name, an involuntary rush of heat washed over me. My heart quickened, a mix of intrigue and irritation swirling inside me.
“She’ll learn quickly,” Sarah added brightly. “Besides, I like her. She’s funny. Sharp.”
“Too sharp,” I muttered, earning another jab in the ribs from Ben.
He grinned like the devil himself. “I don’t know, Calloway. Watching you squirm around her? Might be the most entertaining thing that’s happened all year.”
I clenched my jaw, taking a long sip from my beer, letting the cold fizz burn down my throat.
Nights like this used to come easy—laughing with the guys, chasing fireflies with Ian, grabbing seconds off Sarah’s table without a thought.
Now, it all felt louder somehow, like I was standing just outside the circle, trying to remember how to step in.
What did I even want from tonight? Part of me craved connection, to laugh and feel at ease, but another part dreaded the pitying looks and the well-meaning advice about the store or about Lily Harper’s latest schemes.
I just wanted a night where I didn’t have to hold the pieces together, where I could let go and actually feel like I belonged.
But the weight of expectation clung to me, reminding me of the quiet waiting back home, of the responsibilities I was trying to shake off.
I turned my attention back to the group where Ben was saying something, probably about the Indians’ pitching rotation, but I only caught half of it. Because movement at the edge of the yard caught my eye.
Lily Harper.
She was standing just beyond Rachel and Sarah, her metallic blue halter accentuating her toned arms and sun-kissed skin, radiating an otherworldly glow.
Strappy black heels lifted her height, making her legs look long and graceful as she stepped into the yard.
Glossy lips, hair pulled back, a few loose curls framed her face, drawing every gaze like a magnet.
My stomach tightened.
She looked like she’d been on her way to some big-city rooftop party and taken a wrong turn down a gravel road.
And yet, damn if I could look away.
For a second, I let myself take her in—the swing of her hair as she laughed at something Rachel said, the way she lit up like she knew every set of eyes was already on her. It pulled people toward her like a magnet. Even me.
Then the itch started.
I’d seen that kind of shine before—sales reps trying too hard in Dad’s store, customers laying it on thick when they wanted a discount, people who knew how to turn on the charm like flipping a switch.
Lily carried herself with that same polished ease.
Every smile felt precise, every laugh perfectly timed, the kind of thing you practiced until it looked like second nature.
And it worked. Everyone around her leaned in, charmed without even realizing it.
But something about it rubbed at me.
Did no one else notice how she didn’t leave a single silence unfilled? How she kept the spotlight on herself like she needed it? The crowd saw a star. Me—I couldn’t stop wondering about the quiet underneath all that shine.
What did she sound like when she wasn’t performing? When the lights were off and no one was watching, who was she then?
I tried to distract myself, heading over to the grill, jaw clenching as I grabbed the spatula. If I’d known she’d be here, I might’ve skipped tonight altogether. This was supposed to be easy—burgers, friends, kids running around. Not… whatever this was. Not her.
Kayla's voice cut through the din. "Mr. Calloway! Little help?" She hustled across the yard, Lucas on her hip, Ava tugging her other hand, Ian trailing with a pool floatie.
I grabbed a towel and was up before I could think. "Line up, munchkins." Lucas came willingly, curls plastered to his forehead. I wrapped him tight, ruffled his hair until he squealed for more, then handed him back to Kayla.
"They swarm like piranhas," she said, blowing wet hair from her face.
I caught Ian before he tripped on his towel. "You're good with them."
Her chin lifted. "One day I'll have a houseful."
I tapped her head. "Not for a long time."
"Kayla!" Sarah called from the deck. "Make sure kids dry off before coming inside, please!"
I tucked Ava's towel tighter and helped Ian with his sneaker while Kayla held a wiggling Lucas.
That’s when Lily crossed over, all bright grins and zero hesitation. “Well, hello, pool royalty.” She bent down and looked the kids in their eyes. “I’m Lily. I’m new, and tomorrow I’m testing glow sticks and confetti cannons for Summerfest. Think you could come help?”
Ian’s eyes went wide. “For real?”
“For real.” She zipped her fingers like sealing a deal. “But only if your parents and Kayla approve.”
Kayla laughed, relief written all over her. “If it means they put on dry clothes first, I approve.”
“You heard the boss,” Lily said, popping to her feet. “Operation: socks and shoes.”
Kayla tossed us a grateful wave as she disappeared through the door with the kids. The porch settled, quieter for half a beat.
Across from me, Lily straightened, shot me a quick, sparkling “what?” look, then spun back toward the deck.
The movement was effortless, and for a moment, I was drawn in—her energy was contagious, radiating confidence and a carefree spirit that made my heart race.
But as I watched her engage with the kids, I couldn't shake the annoyance at how performative she seemed, as if every laugh and smile was part of a show instead of a genuine connection.
Chairs scraped as Matt called everyone over. “Alright, food’s ready. Grab a plate before Ben eats all the brats.”
“I only ate two,” Ben said, already shoveling potato salad onto his plate.
“Two… plates,” Nate muttered, and the table broke up.
We circled around the picnic tables. Sarah waltzed through, topping off drinks; Rachel handed out forks. Lily slid right in—offering to pass buns down one side, mustard down the other.
Once everyone had food, Matt lifted his beer. “To family, friends, and nights like this.”
“And to Matt for not burning the burgers,” Ben added as he slid into the seat beside Rachel.
Rachel tapped her can lightly against his. “Please. The real hero tonight is Ben—he made me a margarita exactly the way I like it.”
Ben smirked. “I pay attention.”
“Oh, I know you do,” she shot back before her brain could stop her. The words hung there, just suggestive enough to draw a couple of raised eyebrows around the table.
Rachel’s cheeks warmed instantly. “I mean—my margarita preferences. Obviously.”
Ben’s grin stretched slow and smug. “Obviously.”
Conversation flowed. Sarah's tale of Ava freezing socks had us laughing.
Maggie topped it with Ian's juice-box-drinking dog story.
Through it all, Lily sparkled—dubbing pickles "VIP section," rebranding carrots as "orange French Fries," and interrupting Rachel's band uniform story with: "But did they have sparkle potential? "
I tried to focus on my plate. Didn’t matter.
Her voice threaded through the night like a haunting melody, pulling me in despite my best efforts to resist. I found my gaze drifting toward her—those long legs crossed at the ankle, the way her hair caught the light as she laughed with the group.
Each glance sent a jolt through me, igniting a mix of desire and frustration.
What was it about her that made my heart race and my mind spin?
I couldn’t quite get a read on who she really was, buried beneath that confident exterior.
Eventually, Kayla shepherded the three kids inside to wind down before bedtime.
The yard settled into a softer quiet—crickets, fireflies, the hum of porch conversation.
While everyone else crowded the back steps helping Sarah juggle desserts and leftovers, I stayed behind at the picnic table, stacking plates and gathering half-empty cups.
Through the open kitchen window, I spotted Lily—laughing with Sarah as she rinsed serving spoons, moving with that effortless, attention-catching flair she carried everywhere. Of course she’d find the perfect place to stand where anyone looking in would see her.
A moment later, she pushed through the screen door and crossed toward me, a small recycling bin balanced against her hip.
“Look at us—team cleanup,” she said as she tipped beer bottles into the bin, flashing that grin that could sell a billboard.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” I muttered, wiping down the table. “Some of us actually know how to work without turning it into a performance.”
Her brows arched, playful but sharp. “Oh, please. I’m just making chores less boring.”
“Or making sure everyone sees you making them less boring,” I shot back before I could stop myself, my eyes dropping briefly to the curve of her lips.
Her smile didn’t falter, but something flickered behind it—quick, like a flash of glass under the sun.
She stepped closer, close enough that I caught the scent of her perfume, something citrusy and warm.
“And maybe you should try it sometime. Smiling. People might stop thinking you’re the town’s resident storm cloud. ”
I froze with a crumpled napkin in my fist, heat creeping up my neck and pooling low in my stomach. The space between us seemed to shrink and charge with electricity. "Guess we can't all be sunshine."
"Guess not," she said, her eyes pausing on mine for half a beat longer than I expected, dropping briefly to my mouth before she turned away. Her fingers brushed against mine as she reached for the cups in my hand, sending an involuntary shiver up my arm that I hoped she didn't notice.
Before I could think of a reply, Matt’s voice carried across the yard. “Alright, folks—time for Pictionary!”
Cheers and groans rose from the porch. Lily clapped her hands like she’d been waiting all night for this. I just dragged a hand down my face.
“Perfect,” I muttered under my breath. “Nothing like a round of bad drawings to make the night complete.”
But as she laughed with the others, already sliding into the center of things, I couldn’t shake the thought that maybe I wasn’t dreading the game itself—just what it might show me about her.