“Then tell me what it was like,” I snap, voice rising. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like you want your cake and your midnight hookup, too.”
Will’s jaw ticks. “It’s not about you not being enough, Phern. It’s about you being too much.”
“What in the hell does that mean?”
He exhales hard, stepping closer, lowering his voice like he’s afraid it’ll shatter us both. “It means you terrify me. You always have. I’ve spent years trying to pretend like I didn’t feel this way about you, and the second I stop pretending you’re already inmy bed and my brother’s calling my name and the whole damn world’s catching up.”
I stare at him, heart racing. “So you’d rather be safe? Rather keep playing pretend with someone like Missy while I sit in the dark wondering what we are?”
He swallows, stepping close again, voice hoarse. “No. I don’t want her. I want you. I just didn’t know how to say it out loud without everything changing.”
I shake my head, throat tight. “It already has.”
“Phern.”
But I’m already walking away, fast and furious, brushing at the hot tears that betray me, slipping down my cheeks before I can stop them. I hate that he sees them. I hate even more that he caused them.
By the time I reach the edge of the fairgrounds, I duck behind a row of livestock trailers, my breath catching, throat burning. I don’t cry like this, where anyone can see. But right now, I can’t seem to stop.
I manage to stay hidden most of the day, slipping between tents, pretending to check schedules, burying myself in any task that keeps me moving and unseen.
But my luck runs out just past sundown.
I round the corner near the concession stands and freeze.
There they are—Sam, Charlie, Will, and Missy—laughing. Talking. Like everything’s perfectly in place. Like she fits. And she does. They look good together. Both tall, lean, clean-cut. The kind of pairing people root for without even knowing why. Missy’s blonde hair catches the fair lights, her sundress cinched just right at the waist. And Will’s standing too close to her. His head tipped toward hers in a way that makes it look intimate, even if it isn’t.
My heart cracks wide open, slow and silent.
Because he never stood like that with me in public.
I glance down at myself. Dusty jeans, sweat-smudged tank, hair pulled back in a messy knot. I don’t belong beside him like she does. Not in this version of his life. Not when I’m always the secret.
So, I do what I always do.
I shove all the pain into the pit of my stomach, paste on a fake-ass smile so tight it could crack, and walk straight up to the group like I haven’t been crying behind a trailer all afternoon.
“Phern,” Charlie beams. “I was just telling Missy about the articles you’ve been writing.”
Missy turns to me with that syrupy sweet smile that makes me want to peel my own skin off. “They’resogood. You’re very talented.”
“Thanks,” I say, voice light. Controlled. Like I’m not actively imagining setting her hair on fire. “It’s been fun getting to interview everyone.”
Missy tilts her head. “You know, my family’s been around nearly as long as yours. I’d love to sit down and chat with you sometime.”
I’d literally rather deep-clean a barn with a toothbrush. But I nod, my smile growing even faker. “That would be great.”
My eyes flick to Will. He hasn’t said a word. But he’s watching me now, shoulders tense, jaw tight. Good.
Turning to Sam, I say, “Hey, I actually ran into some friends earlier. I’m going to catch a ride into town with them.”
Will shifts like he’s about to say something but doesn’t get the chance.
“You’re leaving before the fireworks?” Sam asks, brow creasing.
Before I can answer, Missy pipes up, voice bright and helpful. “I think Trey Evans is having a bonfire out at his place. That’s probably where she’s going.”
For a wicked little witch, she just handed me the perfect alibi.
