I knew what she meant. Everyone was here, and everyone was watching.
“I’m glad,” I said. “It’s an important night.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, like she didn’t know how to react. She handed me a cup of cocoa without charging me. “It’s on the house.”
“Thank you.”
A few feet away, a small group huddled near the gazebo. I recognized most of them as old neighbors, parents of my students, people I’d grown up knowing by name and by the shape of their porch lights.
“…he should’ve stayed away…”
“…money doesn’t erase prison…”
“…it’s a shame she’s involved…”
“…the poor girl’s confused…”
My jaw tightened until my teeth throbbed.
Ruby’s advice from earlier rang through my head. She was right. I didn’t owe anyone an explanation. I didn’t owe them anything. But Kingston…he deserved someone in his corner.
I kept walking, weaving through clusters of families. The smell of candied pecans and kettle corn drifted from the vendor stalls. I reached the edge of the square and stopped. The giant evergreen stood proudly in the center, towering over the crowd.
Years ago, Kingston had kissed me under this same tree. The decorations were different. So were the lights. And we we’d grown into different versions of ourselves. But underneath it all, we were still the same.
He’d told me he wanted forever, then he left.
Now I knew why. Now I understood the fear behind the abandonment. The sacrifice behind the silence. The twisted, misguided loyalty that had shaped his choices.
Knowing didn’t erase the hurt, but the hurt didn’t erase the love. And there was no way love would erase the fight ahead of us. But I was here anyway. I tucked my hands deeper into my coat pockets and scanned the crowd. A few faces softened when they saw me. Others looked away. A few looked irritated, but maybe they were just afraid of change.
Slade Kincaid stood off to the side near a lamppost, his coat collar turned up, arms crossed as he surveyed the crowd. He saw me looking, tipped his chin in acknowledgment, then turned back toward the people murmuring near the cocoa stand.
For some reason, his presence grounded me. He’d stand behind Kingston. So would Kacen. Ruby too. I wouldn’t be the only one in his corner.
Across the square, Mayor Nelson fiddled with the microphone, tapping it twice before it screeched. The sound made half the kids cover their ears and a baby start crying. “Test, test. Good evening, Mustang Mountain!”
The crowd responded with scattered cheers.
“It’s time for our annual tree lighting ceremony, a tradition we’ve held since this town was founded?—”
A teenager groaned. Someone shushed him. I smiled despite myself. I used to stand here with my parents during this speech every year. My mom would wrap an arm around my shoulder, and my dad would grumble about the cold while secretly loving every second. They’d retired to Arizona a few years ago and hadn’t been back to Mustang Mountain since.
A light snow began to fall. Gentle flakes drifted sideways in the breeze, catching the glow of string lights like tiny, suspended stars.
I closed my eyes for a moment and inhaled the cold. The truth settled inside me, steady and solid. Whatever Kingston was facing, whatever the town believed or whispered or feared, I wasn’t going anywhere. I blinked, took a breath, and stepped closer to the tree, weaving through bodies until I reached the front edge of the crowd.
The mayor kept talking, something about donations and community spirit, but I barely heard him. My pulse thundered in my ears. I could almostfeelKingston somewhere in the dark edges of the square, watching, hesitant, afraid to cross the invisible line separating him from the people who hadn’t decided whether to forgive him, but he wasn’t the only one who could step forward.
I wrapped my arms around myself and stared up at the half-lit tree. Let the town watch. Let them whisper. Let them wonder. Tonight wasn’t about them. It was about showing up. For him… for us… for the truth of what we were building again. And ifKingston Raines needed someone to meet him halfway between the shadows and light, then I would be the one to stand here waiting.
As Mayor Nelson lowered his clipboard and prepared for the countdown, the square went quiet, holding its breath. I whispered, so softly the snow might have carried the sound away, “Come find me.”
I wasn’t running. Not tonight. Not ever again.
CHAPTER 10
KINGSTON
