“They’re my friends,” she says softly. “They got me through… everything.”
Her voice cracks on that last word.
And goddammit, my chest cracks with it.
I should say something flirty. Light. On brand.
Instead, I hear myself say, “Then it’s good they’re here.”
Her eyes lift to mine.
I force myself to look away before I do something stupid. I could easily tuck a strand of hair behind her ear in front of thirty townsfolk and a famous band.
Focus, Silas. Charm the town. Be helpful. Do literally anything else.
Creed leans into the mic. “This one’s for our girl, Delaney Rivers, because we love her and we heard she’s burning down a kitchen somewhere up the mountain.”
The crowd laughs.
My eyebrows shoot up.
Delaney’s cheeks go crimson.
Boone, across the square, stiffens.
Caleb freezes mid-conversation with Terry Claymore.
Oh, this is going to be so fun for me later.
They start a new song, and Delaney laughs into her lemonade, hiding her face.
“You didn’t tell them I was here with you, did you?” she accuses.
I place a hand over my heart. “Sunshine, I don’t have that kind of psychic influence. But somehow, they knew.”
Her smile softens. “This is… amazing.”
“Good. You deserve something amazing.”
Her breath hitches just a fraction.
I pretend I don’t notice.
Because even I know this isn’t the time.
The market turns into a mini concert. People dance. Kids shriek. Someone pulls Ivy into a slow sway. Her men follow, tripping over each other because they can’t dance worth shit, but they’d die before leaving her out.
Delaney watches them all, wrapped in sound and color and familiarity, and she belongs.
“Come on,” I tell her when the band pauses to tune. “Let’s get closer.”
She hesitates. “Won’t we be in the way?”
“Sunshine,” I grin, offering my hand, “we are the way.”
Her cheeks flush.
But she takes my hand.
