Page 54 of Wild Thorns

“Which is it for you?”

He considered the question with his usual care. “Both. The weight of the past can be grounding. It can also be suffocating. The trick is learning which parts to carry and which parts to set down.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Speaking from a lifetime of living with family expectations.” A small smile. “The Voss name comes with certain obligations. Certain assumptions. People expect us to be… certain things. It took me a long time to figure out which of those expectations I wanted to meet and which ones I wanted to reject.”

“And did you? Figure it out?”

“Eventually.” His eyes met mine, and there was something in them, an understanding, a recognition, that made my breath catch. “The secret is finding people who see you as you are. Not as your name, or your family, or your history. Just… you.”

The words landed somewhere deep in my chest. I thought about invisibility, about wanting it, and then not wanting it, and the terrifying vulnerability of being truly seen.

“That sounds nice,” I whispered. “Being seen like that.”

“It is.” He held my gaze. “When you find it.”

Jasper cleared his throat. “Not to interrupt this moment, but the fireworks are starting in twenty minutes, and if we want good spots, we should move now. Unless you two want to keep being profound, in which case I’ll go save us seats and you can catch up.”

“Fireworks?” I asked.

“Another festival tradition. They set them off over the preserve.” Jasper stood, offering me his hand. “Best view is from the hill behind the church. Come on.”

I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. Eli fell into step beside us as we wound through the crowd, and I was aware of both of them, Jasper’s hand still holding mine, Eli’s shoulder brushing against my arm as we navigated the narrow spaces between booths.

I’d come to the festival with one, danced with all three, and now walked between two of them toward fireworks. Nothing about this was simple. Nothing about this was what I’d planned, but I have to admit; it was as exciting as it was confusing. I couldn’t wait to tell Tara.

Chapter fifteen

Little Bird

The music had shifted to something slow and sensual when Callum appeared at my elbow.

Jasper had gone to get more lemonade, or so he said. I suspected orchestration, but I couldn't prove it.

I felt him before I saw him, a shift in the air, a change in pressure, like the moment before a storm breaks. My body recognized his presence the way it recognized heat or gravity: automatically, involuntarily, with no input from my conscious mind.

Up close, Callum was even more overwhelming than usual. The festival lights caught the planes of his face, highlighting the strong jaw, the serious mouth, the dark eyes that seemed to see straight through me. His shirt clung to his chest in a way that suggested the fabric was straining to contain him, and I could see the outline of muscle beneath.

"Are you enjoying it?" he asked. No preamble, no small talk.

"More than expected," I admitted.

"Good."

A long pause. The pause stretched. With anyone else, awkward. With Callum, it felt deliberate. Like he was constructing something.

The band continued playing that slow, honeyed rhythm, and couples around us had started to dance. I was acutely aware of the space between us, maybe eight inches, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. Close enough that if I swayed, if he shifted, we’d be touching.

Neither of us moved.

"The magnolia grove," he said finally. "The one at the edge of the preserve. It's better at night. The blooms open more fully after dark. If you want to see it."

I turned to look at him. "I would like that."

"Okay."

There was something in his voice, something that wasn't casual at all, despite how hard he was trying to make it sound that way. A crack in that careful control. I felt it in my chest, that particular awareness I got around all three of them, but sharper with Callum. More focused. More dangerous.