I don't stop moving until I'm on the opposite side of the square from where I saw Terrance, breathing like I just ran a marathon. One conversation down, approximately fifty more to go. This is going to be a long afternoon.
The festival is packed. It seems like every resident of Honeyridge Falls and half the surrounding county showed up for Maeve Bennett's famous apple cider donuts. I spot Margie Winslow directing volunteers near the raffle booth, her purple cardigan bright against the gray November sky as she organizes ticket sales with military precision. The Parker family's three kids nearly take me out while playing what I can only describe as "aggressive tag" around the hay bale maze.
I'm navigating through the chaos when I spot a familiar face near one of the vendor booths.
Sadie Quinn sits in a comfortable chair surrounded by gorgeous floral arrangements—her work, obviously. She's talking to someone, and even from here I can see she looks a bit green around the edges. I remember hearing she'd gotten together with a pack. Good for her. She always was one of the sweetest people in town.
Before I can second-guess myself, I head over. Maybe talking to someone who knew me before I became "that girl who came back from college" will feel less exhausting than dodging Mrs. Peterson's matchmaking attempts.
"Sadie Quinn," I say with a grin as I approach. "I'm Bea Wilson—you used to babysit me when I was about eleven."
"Bea!" She lights up immediately, and the genuine warmth in her recognition makes something tight in my chest ease. "Look at you, all grown up. I heard you were back from college."
"Yeah, trying to figure out what's next." I glance around the festival, then back at her. "Heard about your pack—congratulations on the baby. That's really exciting."
"Thanks. Are you staying in town?"
"For now." My smile falters slightly. I glance over my shoulder, checking if Terrance is still by the kettle corn booth. "My ex is here today, so I'm hiding out."
"Ugh, ex drama." Her expression is immediately sympathetic. "Well, you're welcome to hide here as long as you want."
"Thanks, I might take you up on that." I start to move away, putting more distance between myself and where I last saw Terrance, then pause. "It's really good to see you, Sadie. Congratulations again."
As I slip back into the crowd, I scan for Terrance. He's moved from the kettle corn booth—now he's near the main stage, still searching. My stomach twists.
Where's Ben? I need to find Ben. He'll know what to do, or at least run interference while I figure out an escape plan.
I weave through families and food stalls, keeping my head down, trying to spot my brother's familiar height. The crowd feels suffocating. Every alpha scent makes me tense, wondering if it's Terrance closing in. I navigate past vendor booths—handmade crafts, baked goods, someone selling knitted scarves.
I'm so focused on scanning for Ben—and avoiding Terrance—that I almost walk straight into a display of handmade soaps.
"Careful there."
I stumble back and look up—way up—into a face that's familiar but... different.
"Seth?" The name comes out automatically, recognition hitting me before my brain catches up.
He's even taller than I remember. Way taller. He was always tall in high school, but now he's got to be six-foot-four at least, with broader shoulders and a jaw that's much more defined than the lanky guy I vaguely remember from Ben's grade. His light brown hair is neatly cut and styled, and those warm brown eyes widen in surprise when they meet mine.
Then I register the uniform. The badge.
"I mean—Deputy Monroe." Heat floods my cheeks. "Sorry. I didn't realize you were... I haven't seen you in years."
Four years, to be exact. He would have been what, twenty-three when I left for college? Just starting with the sheriff's department. Now he's grown into himself in a way that makes my pulse skip.
Very handsome. The thought hits me unbidden and unwelcome.
His scent hits me next—clean rain and cedar and something that reminds me of fresh-baked bread. It wraps around me, instantly soothing despite my panic. My omega biology takes immediate notice, and I have to fight the urge to step closer and just... breathe him in.
"Bea Wilson." His voice is gentle with that slight rasp I don't remember, and his cheeks flush. "I didn't— I mean, I heard you were back, but I haven't..." He clears his throat, looking flustered. "You look... different. Good. You look good."
The awkwardness is almost endearing.
"Thanks," I manage, my heart still racing from Terrance-avoidance mode. "Sorry for almost running into you. I wasn't watching where I was going."
"No harm done." He shifts his weight, and I notice his hands are clenched at his sides like he's not sure what to do with them. His gaze catches on something over my shoulder and his browfurrows slightly. "Are you—" He stops, clears his throat again. "I mean, do you need... is everything okay?"
He's noticed my panic. Or maybe he can smell the stress in my scent.
