When we park, Hunter carefully helps Mom down from my truck, his hand steady on her thin shoulder. She squeezes his hand and thanks him with a warm expression in her eyes.
She uses a walker now, and every step looks like it hurts her more than she’ll admit. I keep my arm looped through hers as we inch down the first row of vendors. Maddie skips a few feet ahead, darting toward every stand that catches her attention.
Mom stops in front of a stall piled high with pint containers of red cherries. She rests her hand on the edge of the table and smiles faintly. “You used to beg for these every summer, Mason. Do you remember?”
I glance at the fruit, and I can still taste it—the sweet flavor exploding on my tongue, blended with a tart bite.
“You’d eat the whole container on the car ride home,” she continues. “By the time we pulled into the driveway, your fingers would be stained red.”
I smile at the memory. “My blood sugar always spiked afterwards, and I’d feel awful, but it was worth it.”
Mom’s eyes crinkle with laughter, but there’s a wet sheen in them too. She picks up a pint from the table, her hands trembling slightly, and passes it to me. “Why don’t we get some today?”
I nod, my throat tight. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”
Across the street, Maddie beckons Mom to a stall with goat-milk soap. I watch fondly as they pick up the bars, smelling them and giggling together. Hunter stays glued at my side, a canvas tote slung over his shoulder, already overflowing with vegetables and flowers.
I turn to the man behind the table. He’s maybe a couple years older than me with pale blue eyes and shaggy blond hair tucked under a black baseball cap. There’s something familiar about him, though I can’t place the name.
“Hey. You’re Mason Burke, right?” he asks, hesitant but grinning.
I stiffen. “Um, yeah.”
“I’m Ashton, Luke Tremblay’s older brother.” His smile widens as he grabs my hand in that half-handshake, half-bro hug I’ve never quite mastered. It’s awkward.
“We went to high school together,” he continues. “I was a senior when you were a sophomore, I think.”
The memories come back in flashes—football games, crowded lunch tables, him always hanging around Luke.
“Oh, right,” I say, forcing a laugh. “How’ve you been?”
“I’m great, man! Our dad retired this year, so I’m taking over the family orchard.” He gestures toward the cherries. “You went off to college, didn’t you?”
The question makes me tense. Before I can fumble for words, Hunter’s hand presses gently to the small of my back, his thumb drawing calming circles.
“Uh, yeah, but I moved back here a couple years ago,” I reply, scratching the back of my neck.
Ashton’s gaze dips—not at my face, but at Hunter’s arm around me. His expression tightens, and suddenly the air feels hot, prickling against my skin.
“So… it’s true?” he says, voice lowering. “The rumors?”
I clear my throat. “What do you mean?”
“You’re… gay?” His eyes flick to Hunter, then back to me. “I heard you kissed a guy on the Fourth of July.”
Black fog creeps at the edges of my vision. Of course he knows—half of Claremont Shores has probably heard it by now. In this town, nothing stays private.
“Mason, c’mon. Let’s just go,” Hunter mutters quietly, tugging at my sleeve, but my sneakers stick stubbornly to the ground.
“Hey, I don’t judge,” Ashton says quickly, hands raised. “It’s just… surprising. You were such a ladies’ man in high school. Luke swore the rumor was bullshit.”
I square my shoulders. “Not that it’s any of your business—or Luke’s—but yeah, I’m gay.”
“Oh.” Ashton blinks, lips parted. “Wow.”
I shove cash into his palm, hard enough to throw him off balance. “Thanks for the cherries. Really great catching up,” I sneer.
He stammers something in reply, but I don’t give him a chance. My hand finds Hunter’s, fingers locking tight as I drag him away. We weave through the crowd, but I can still feel Ashton’s gaze burning into my back—heavy, suffocating, pressing down on my lungs.
