“Larry Baldwin.” I chew on the words. “Nah, sounds weird.”
Another hearty laugh sounds from my former principal as Jett wraps an arm around me. It’s not possessive, but endearing, and I melt a little.
“I can’t tell you how good it is to see you both together again. I was always rooting for you two. I could tell from the first time Davis brought you over to play there was a special connection.”
“Thank you, sir.” Jett smiles down at me. The shadows I saw when I first arrived in Silo Bay are nowhere in sight. “Wren’s always been there for me.”
Whenever I’m in the presence of this man, I feel like all I do is blush.
“Good to hear, son.” Principal Baldwin glances around the room. “Speaking of sons, I don’t see mine anywhere.”
“Levi mentioned he was working tonight,” I supply.
He harrumphs at my answer. “The poor boy is going to work himself to death.”
“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“I appreciate that. Now, you two are here for fun, not talking up an old man.”
Jett shakes his head. “There’s always time for you, sir.”
“Nonsense,” Principal Baldwin says, before looking in my direction. “Wonderful job, Wren. The town has been missing your charm.”
“That’s kind of you. Turns out, I was missing Silo Bay’s charm, too.”
Jett and Principal Baldwin shake hands before he’s called in another direction.
“What’s going on with Davis?” I ask, my hand landing on Jett’s chest as I stare up at him. I notice his jaw tic as he mulls over his response.
“It’s his story…”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t give me that bullshit.”
Jett’s throat bobs. “He fell in love and lost her. It’s tearing him up inside.”
“So, he’s working himself to the bone to forget her?”
“Pretty much.”
“Sounds familiar,” I mumble.
“But you’re back, baby.” His lips land on my forehead. I'm back, and he is too.
But I know what it’s like to lose the one you love. It’s an unimaginable pain. One that leaves you with this crippling ache no one can see but you. It’s the kind of feeling where you find yourself gasping for air at two o’clock in the morning, wondering what you did wrong.
“Where’d you go?” Jett’s words tickle the shell of my ear, pulling me from my thoughts, and my pulse thrums.
“Nowhere.” I offer a reassuring smile.
“Good.” He winks. “Let’s check out the silent auction table before I have my way with you on the dance floor.”
“Jett Riggsby, I didn’t think you liked to dance.”
“Only with you.”
At the silent auction table, I linger over a framed jersey with Crew Riggsby’s autograph in black marker. It’s still weird to me that Jett’s younger brother is playing professional football. The same boy who was Jett’s shadow when we were growingup, always wanting to do everything his brother did—good and bad. Now, he’s married with a son, playing professional football. Isn’t it wild where life can take you?
I glance over at Jett, who’s looking intently at a cruise brochure.
