And that’s when I do it.
I look right at Summer.
Her lips are parted, eyes wide, cheeks red. I don’t even think. I grab the hem of my shirt, pull it over my head, and throw it straight at her.
The laughter around us doubles. She blinks in surprise, catches it, then, without missing a beat, pulls it on. It’s too big on her, swallowing her frame, and she raises her beer in a toast like she’s wearing armor.
I grin.
She grins back.
It’s chaos around us, music, laughter, people dancing, but for a heartbeat, it’s just us.
The night blurs after that. More songs, more dancing, more ridiculous dares shouted across the bar. The clock hits two a.m. before I realize how late it’s gotten.
I help Cas carry a half-drunk Penny toward the door. Summer’s next to Grace, her boots scuffing the gravel as they walk to the truck. She’s half drunk, hair falling around her face, singing off-key like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Everyone’s laughing, but I can’t.
I’m too busy memorizing the way she laughs, loose, unfiltered, alive. And something unfurls in my chest.
Like an invisible thread is pulling my soul to hers. Strong. Unyielding. Unbreakable.
And in that moment, I don’t just want to watch her. I want to be the reason she laughs like that. The reason she lets herself be free. The reason she never has to hold anything back again.
Summer
Ethan walks up to us, and I sway a little on my feet.
Man, he’s so hot.
I smile at him, maybe too wide, and he just shakes his head, that half-grin playing on his lips.
“I need to grab something at Mom’s,” he says casually, glancing at Cas.“I can take Grace, Cassie, and Summer home so you can head straight back.”
Cas squints at him, suspicion written all over his face.
“Suuuure,” he drawls, voice dripping with mockery.“You left something at Mom’s.” He turns to us, smirking.“Night, ladies. I’m taking this ray of sunshine home.”
Penny hiccups, leaning her head against his shoulder.“I love my man,” she sighs dreamily, and I laugh, warmth filling my chest at how easy it feels to be part of this family.
Ethan’s hand finds the small of my back as he guides me toward his truck. The air outside is cool, smelling faintly of hay and the lingering sweetness of spilled beer from the bar. My boots scrape against the gravel.
“Easy there,” he murmurs, steadying me when I stumble.
He opens the door and helps me in, his hand firm around mine.“You okay?” he asks, buckling me in like I’m something fragile. His scent hits me, sandalwood, spice, a faint trace of cologne, and I sigh, drunk on more than just the alcohol.
“You smell so good,” I mumble.
He smirks, that slow, confident tilt of his lips that makes my stomach flutter.
We drop Cassie off first. Ethan insists on walking her to the door, saying he doesn’t want her out alone in the dark, even though her porch light is on and she lives next door. That’s just him. Steady. Thoughtful. The kind of man who makes you forget what it felt like to be unsafe.
By the time we pull up to the Hawthorne ranch, the night air feels softer, the crickets louder. Ethan’s headlights wash over the porch rails and the hanging ferns swaying in the faint breeze.
He’s already at my door before I can reach for the handle.“I got you,” he says, his voice low, warm, like a promise. I step out, and the ground seems to tilt beneath me. His arms are around me in an instant, solid and sure.
Grace yawns as she walks past us, her boots thudding against the wood steps.“Night,” she calls, disappearing inside.
Now it’s just me and Ethan on the porch, under the soft glow of the porch light. His arms are still around me, holding me upright, and suddenly everything feels too close, the sound of his heartbeat, the clean scent of his shirt, the way his eyes catch mine like gravity.
