Something shifted in me—quiet and irreversible, but I refused to examine it too closely. “Okay then,” I said, forcing a steadiness I didn’t feel. “I guess I better go get ready.”
Twenty-Three
The path curvedaround the far side of the lodge, narrowing as it went. Lanterns marked the way with a yellow glow, swinging gently from the branches of trees so tall they disappeared into the dark above us. The light felt comforting and disorienting all at once, like it was guiding us somewhere I wasn’t entirely ready to go.
I tucked my hand into the crook of Dean’s arm, my steps slowing without my meaning them to. Somewhere behind the trees, voices and laughter drifted through the woods—easy, familiar, already intertwined in ways I wasn’t sure I knew how to fit into.
When we reached the clearing, the cookout was already in full swing. A fire roared at the center, flames snapping skyward, heat pushing back against the sudden chill that hinted at an approaching storm. People clustered along benches and fallen logs, wrapped in blankets with plates balanced on knees.
I hesitated at the edge of it all, aware of the way my pulse had picked up, and how suddenly out of place I felt stepping into something so established.
Dean’s hand settled over mine on his arm, casual but steady, and then he moved forward like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I followed, letting him guide me, hoping I’d find my confidence before anyone noticed I’d left it back at the cabin.
Off to one side, a chef manned a massive grill, where smoke curled up into the sky. Hot dogs sizzled beside skewers of vegetables, and the scent of them tangled with roasted marshmallows and spiced cider by the fire.
We’d chosen to arrive late on purpose, but the second we stepped into the clearing, every head turned—and I instantly regretted it.
Dean’s arm slid around my waist as we moved through the crowd, his thumb skimming the skin at my side like it belonged there. He didn’t rush or explain. He just kept us close, steady, like we had nothing to prove. And somehow, it worked. Eyes followed us. Conversations dipped, and we gave them exactly what they were looking for.
We grabbed plates, paper sagging under food I barely noticed. My nerves were humming too loudly for me to actually be hungry, but I pretended to be enthusiastic anyway.
At the end of the line, Dean nudged a piece of cornbread onto my plate with his fork.
“You’ll want that,” he said quietly. “Trust me.”
I glanced at it, then back at him. “Why? Is it that good?”
His mouth curved. “The best you’ve ever had.”
Something flickered across his face then—a blink of awareness—followed by the faintest and most adorable blush. “The cornbread I mean,” he clarified too quickly.
I held back a laugh, catching my lower lip between my teeth.
His head dipped, but not before I caught it—the shy, almost boyish smile he didn’t quite manage to hide before he looked back at me.
“Carbs help,” he said once he’d found his composure again. “They settle the nerves. Which is why I need donuts before every court appearance.”
The image of him—sharp suit, serious expression, secretly braced by a donut—made me smile. And then it hit me.
He wasn’t joking just to be charming. He was trying to steady me the same way he steadied himself.
Something in my chest loosened, a tension I hadn’t even realized I’d been carrying.
We headed toward the fire before I could think too hard about what that meant, and Dean guided us without hesitation straight toward his grandparents. Trisha and Mason were already there, along with a couple of aunts and cousins whose names slipped my mind in the moment.
Mr. McHenry perked up the second we drew close, his mouth curving into a soft, pleased smile as he waved us toward the empty bench across from him.
“There she is,” he said brightly. “Our resident artist. I heard about our little misunderstanding in the woods earlier.” He chuckled.
I’d almost forgotten about the man on the log, but the reminder sent heat crawling right back up my neck. A couple of people grinned openly now, clearly enjoying the callback, while Trisha lifted her brows, like more had happened in that field after I left.
“Careful, Vivienne—” Dean leaned in close to my ear before I could respond. “Word travels fast in this family. You so much as sneeze, and everyone will know about it.”
Laughter broke out around the fire. Mr. McHenry slapped his knee, eyes crinkling as he leaned back, clearly pleased with himself—and with the reaction.
“I’m afraid it’s true, Vivienne,” he said, pointing a finger in mock warning before winking. “But only because we care.”
