And just like that, it’s over for me.
I’ll kill for her.
I’ll die for her.
But God help me—I might already be falling for her.
And I don’t know how the hell to stop.
FIVE
STELLA
Valor Springs at night is a whole different animal.
By day, it’s bunting and bake sales and goats with attitude. By night, it’s string lights and boot scuffs on packed dirt, a stage set up beside the arena, and half the town acting like they’re in a country music video. The air smells like barbecue smoke, hay, and perfume that came from the same aisle as “Bless Your Heart” scented candles.
There’s a band playing under a canopy—fiddle, steel guitar, a drummer who looks like he was born with rhythm in his bones—and the dance floor is basically just a wide patch of dirt people have decided is romantic.
I’m standing at the edge of it all with a paper cup of lemonade and a body that’s running on pure adrenaline and frosting fumes.
And I can still feel Jack.
Not like a ghost. Like gravity.
I haven’t looked for him on purpose. That’s a lie. I’ve looked for him approximately twelve times in the last hour, and each time my eyes catch on something tall and broad-shouldered my heart tries to do a backflip.
Right now he’s a few yards away, half in shadow near the fence line, talking into a radio with that calm, controlled posture that screamsdon’t try me.His hair is darker in the night, silver at the temples catching the string lights like a threat. Black t-shirt. Jeans. Boots. He looks lethal.
And he keeps scanning the crowd like he’s counting exits.
Like he’s counting dangers.
Like he’s counting the seconds until someone tries something near me.
Wyatt appears at my shoulder like he teleported. He hands me a small plate with a brownie on it.
“Eat,” he orders.
“Did you just assign me a brownie?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says. “You didn’t eat dinner.”
“I had half a hot dog,” I argue.
Wyatt gives me a look. “And you gave the other half to a kid.”
“Her name is Maisie,” I say. “And she looked like she was going to pass away from hunger. I saved a life.”
Wyatt snorts, eyes scanning the crowd. “You’re gonna save yourself a life by listening to me tonight.”
I sigh dramatically. “What’s the lecture?”
“The lecture is: don’t wander. Don’t go to the bathroom alone. Don’t leave the grounds without?—”
“Jack,” I supply, because I know where this is going.
Wyatt’s jaw ticks. “Yes. Sinclair.”
