Chapter 44
Ethan
The bell above the bookstore door jingled as it shut behind me, but for once I wasn’t thinking about receipts or inventory.
I was thinking about the bouquet in my hand.
Half of Rachel’s flower shop, really. Sunflowers, lilies, daisies, sprays of baby’s breath.
Big and loud, just like Summerfest was about to be.
It felt like the right thing to do. A way to mark the start of something she’d built from the ground up. A way to tell her without saying it outright: I’m proud of you. I’m proud of everything you’ve done for this town.
The truth? I wasn’t sure who I was prouder of—her, for taking this town and shaking it awake, or myself, for finally letting someone in after months of living on autopilot. This summer, the bookstore had come alive, I’d come alive, and every part of it had her fingerprints on it.
And now the calendar said August. Opening day of Summerfest. Which also meant the end was closing in.
I tried not to let the thought choke me, but it did anyway. A week, then she’d pack her bags and head for the next city. That’s who Lily Harper was—bright, unstoppable, untouchable. And me? I was the guy who’d spend the rest of the year trying to scrub glitter out of his countertops.
Unless I went with her.
The thought slid in before I could stop it. Nashville. LA. Wherever she was headed next. What would it mean to walk away from the bookstore, from Willowbrook, from everything I’d spent my whole life holding together? Was it even possible?
I shoved the idea down, hard, and told myself what I’d been telling myself all week: Enjoy the festival. Don’t get ahead of yourself.
I set the bouquet on the counter, trying to think of the right words for when I handed it to Lily. Nothing I rehearsed in my head sounded right. How do you tell someone they’ve breathed life back into a town, and into you, without sounding like a fool?
The bell jingled, and Mom came in. Her eyes went straight to the flowers. “Those for Lily?”
“Yeah,” I said, a little sheepish. “Figured she deserves more than a pat on the back.”
Mom touched a sunflower gently, her thumb smoothing over a bright yellow petal. “Your dad would’ve loved this,” she murmured. “The fair, the music, all the kids running around. He always said the fair was the heartbeat of Willowbrook.”
I tried to smile. “He was the heartbeat.”
That got her. She blinked quickly, like she didn’t want me to see her eyes go glassy.
“This is my first one without him,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
“And Ethan, I don’t know what I’d do without you here.
Just knowing you’re close—working in the store, checking in—it keeps me steady.
” She let out a shaky laugh, her fingers finding mine on the counter. "You're my anchor in all this."
The words hit me like a stone dropped into water, rippling out, impossible to ignore. I shifted, hands braced against the counter, searching for something to say. “Mom…”
She reached out, squeezed my arm before I could finish. She offered a small, brave smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Having you close by... it makes all the difference."
Then she straightened, smoothing her skirt again. “I’d better go. Carol’s saving me a spot for the parade, and you know if I’m late, she’ll give it away to someone from church.”
I managed a laugh, but once the bell jingled behind her, I just stood there staring at the flowers, my chest tight. Leaving wasn’t an option. Not for me.
By the time I made it to the square, Lily was in full command mode. Clipboard in one hand, headset on like she was running NASA, waving people into place for the parade lineup. I’d never seen someone so chaotic and so graceful at the same time.
“These are for you,” I said simply, thrusting the bouquet at her.
Her mouth opened, then closed again, and for one beautiful second, she looked like I’d knocked the words right out of her. She buried her face in the blooms, muffling her laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But now everyone knows who the festival queen is.”
Her eyes softened, and for a heartbeat I thought she might cry. Instead, she pressed the bouquet tighter to her chest and whispered, “Thank you. For all your help. For… well—” She cut herself off, shaking her head like she’d nearly said too much.
Before I could ask, she caught my hand. “Come with me.”
She tugged me toward the small supply tent pitched just off Main Street, ducking under the flap before anyone could notice.
The air inside smelled like paper streamers, marker ink, and her perfume.
She set the flowers carefully on the folding table, then spun back to me—eyes bright, breath quick—and kissed me.
It was need, crashing into me all at once. Her hands slid up my chest, curling up around my neck, and I backed until the canvas wall pressed against my shoulders.
I groaned into her mouth, catching her hips, pulling her flush against me like I could fuse us together. Her tongue brushed mine, and my knees nearly buckled. Every kiss tasted like desperation and promise, like we both knew time was running out, but neither of us could stop.
She rose on her toes, fingers threading into my hair, tugging me lower, closer. I held her face between my palms for a second, just staring at her, memorizing every line, every freckle. How was I supposed to let her walk away after this? After us?
Then she kissed me again, harder, and the thought unraveled. All I could do was lose myself in her—her heat, her laugh against my lips, the way her hands wouldn’t let go—as if she was as terrified as I was that this might be one of our last.
And the truth was, I didn’t want to count at all. I just wanted more.
Her lips slowed against mine, softening until it was just the two of us breathing the same air.
“We have to talk about this,” I murmured, my thumbs brushing her jaw. The words scraped raw, but I couldn’t keep them in. “I can’t pretend it’s not happening.”
Her eyes fluttered open, wide and shining. She shook her head, pressing one last kiss to the corner of my mouth like she could make it an answer. “Ethan… let’s just enjoy the fair. Please. We always knew I had to leave. Let’s not ruin what time we have left.”
The words cut, sharper than she meant them to, but before I could answer, she stepped back. Already gathering the bouquet, already smoothing her hair and reaching for the clipboard waiting on the table.
“I’ve got a parade to start,” she whispered, her smile wobbling as she ducked toward the flap.
I stayed there a beat too long, staring at the space she’d left like it might still hold her. My chest ached with everything I wanted to say, with everything she wouldn’t let me.
But outside, the music was starting. The blare of a high-school trumpet, the shuffle of kids lining up with paper flags, the unmistakable squeal of the fire truck’s siren announcing the start. Willowbrook was waking up for its biggest weekend, and Lily Harper was right in the center of it.
So, I shoved the ache down and stepped out into the sunlight.
She was already halfway across the lot, clipboard in hand, corralling a gaggle of scouts in matching kerchiefs. Her hair caught the light, her laugh rising above the noise as she waved toward the marching band and directed the tractors into place.
“Calloway!” Ben hollered from the pie wagon. “You’re tall—get over here and hold this banner before Nate drops it.”
I jogged over, gripping the end of the Summerfest banner while Nate fumbled with his side. Lily glanced over, caught my eye for the briefest second, and something softened in her expression.
I was still aching, still reeling. But if she wouldn’t let me in right now, I could at least be here. Holding banners, lining up tractors, anchoring her chaos the way I always had.
Even if she walked away at the end of all this, I wasn’t going to let her carry it alone.
***
By the time the parade reached the fairgrounds, I could hardly hear myself think.
Tractor horns, marching band drums, the squeals of kids diving for candy—it all rolled together into one long, impossible noise.
And yet, somehow, Lily cut through it. Clipboard in one hand, the other waving like she was conducting the whole damn orchestra.
The gates opened and the smells hit: charred hot dogs, funnel cakes, kettle corn, cotton candy.
Booths lined the grass, each more colorful than the last. Rachel’s sunflowers were tucked into jars, Maggie had Ian and Cora running beanbag tosses, Nate was already leaning across the Summerfest merch booth, flashing his crooked smile at Melissa from the credit union.
She rolled her eyes but blushed, straightening the mugs he'd knocked askew.
Mayor Davis stepped up to the ribbon-cutting podium, clearing his throat into the mic. “Ladies and—ah—gentlemen, welcome to the, uh, first annual—”
“Summerfest!” Lily’s voice rang out, bright and clear as a bell. She had slipped up onto the stage beside him, clipboard in one hand, the mic in the other. “We’re here to eat too much, dance too late, and celebrate Willowbrook the way it deserves. Who’s ready?”
The crowd roared. Davis blinked like he wasn’t sure if he’d been replaced, but even he was clapping along when she led the countdown—“Three, two, one—cut that ribbon!”—and Summerfest began.
Vendors cheered. Kids bolted for the face-painting booth. Someone let loose a tractor horn for good measure.
And in the middle of it all, Lily handed the mic back to Davis with a grin like she hadn’t just hijacked his job.
The old me would have been annoyed. I would’ve thought, classic Harper, swooping in where she doesn’t belong.
But I couldn’t. Not anymore.
Because all I saw was the way she lit the place up. The way the whole town seemed to catch fire from her spark. She wasn’t just running Summerfest. She was Summerfest.
And standing there with my heart climbing into my throat, I couldn’t shake the truth pressing in harder every minute:
I was falling for her.
By the time the sun dipped and the stage lights came on for the first concert, I found myself pulled into a circle with Ben, Nate, and Matt. We stood with paper plates of ribs, watching the Ramblers stomp through their set.
Nate elbowed me. “You’re staring again.”
I didn’t even bother denying it this time. Ben smirked like he’d been waiting for the confession. “She’s good for you, Calloway. Never seen you look this alive.”
Matt chewed slowly, then gave me that steady look. “So, what’s the deal? You gonna tell her how you feel, or just keep brooding while she runs circles around the town?”
The words slipped out before I could stop them. “I love her.”
The three of them went still. Nate whistled low. Ben muttered, “Well, damn.”
Matt clapped my shoulder. “Then don’t waste the time you’ve got. That’s all you can do.”
I nodded, but the knot in my chest only tightened. Because it still ended in goodbye.
I found her near the food trucks, wiping powdered sugar off her chin, laughing at something Lynn said. She pulled me into the orbit easily, her arm looping through mine like it belonged there. “Walk with me?”
I stepped in, heart banging around like it was trying to escape. She looked up and smiled, tired but real, and it nearly leveled me.
“Hey,” she said softly. “You okay?”
I huffed a laugh. “That’s my line. You’ve been running this whole thing like a general. I don’t know how you’re still standing.”
Her mouth curved, teasing, but her eyes searched mine. “Coffee. And corndogs. And fried Oreos.”
I nodded, swallowed, shifted closer. Just say it, Calloway. Before you lose your nerve. Before she’s gone.
“Lily,” I started, voice low, almost lost under the hum of the crowd. “I just need you to know something.”
Her smile softened. “What?”
“I—” My throat closed, but I pushed anyway. “I can’t keep pretending this is just… nothing. You’ve changed everything for me. The store. This town. Me.” My chest tightened. “And I—”
That’s when I saw it. The corner of an envelope, sticking out from behind her clipboard. Crisp, official. The logo at the top jumped out before I could look away.
“What’s that?” I asked, even though I already knew.
Her smile faltered. “Um, it’s just my contract. For my next job.”
“So, that’s it?” My voice was lower than I meant. “The next gig’s already lined up.”
She bristled, pulling the envelope against her chest. “That’s my career, Ethan. This is what I do.”
“Yeah, I get it.” I pulled my arm away from her. “I just thought, after everything, that we were more than just a stopover on your tour schedule.”
Her chin lifted, but her eyes shimmered with something raw. “Don’t make this harder than it already is. You knew I wasn’t staying.”
I dragged a hand through my hair, the words clawing up before I could stop them. “Yeah, I knew. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t gut me to see it in black and white.”
The air between us tightened, sharp with things neither of us was ready to say. Around us, the festival roared—music, kids laughing, carnival rides roaring—but it felt like the two of us were standing in a vacuum.
She reached out, fingers brushing my arm. “Ethan, wait. What were you going to say? Before you saw—”
I looked at her, the hope in her eyes cutting me open, and forced my voice steady. “Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything, does it?”
Her lips parted, but nothing came out.
So I turned, the crowd swallowing me whole, every step heavier than the last.
By the end of the night, families packed up blankets, kids rubbed their eyes, vendors pulled down canvas flaps. Lily waved, smiling for everyone, but I saw it—the shadow under her grin.
When she walked off toward Carol, clipboard back in hand, she didn’t look at me.
And for the first time since this whole thing began, Summerfest felt less like a beginning and more like the countdown to an ending I didn’t know how to stop.