Page 62 of The Right Kind of Wrong

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Blake had parked near the back of the lot when she got to the school. That way, there would be the least amount of light pollution from the stadium and parking lot floodlights when the fireworks started.

At least, that’s what she’d told Monroe, who’d grabbed a space slightly closer. Blake knew that proximity was a godsend when an antsy kid was involved. Maisie was going to be drawn to the bright lights of the festival like a moth to a flame.

Monroe and Maisie had waited for Blake at the entrance, a giant canopy of red, white, and blue balloons that led onto the high school’s practice fields, where the event was being held.

Heaven forbid the school let anyone undeserving step foot on the astroturf football field, complete with seating for a couple thousand people, that had probably cost more than the school itself.

She shook her head, memories of the past flooding back that she, frankly, didn’t appreciate right now.

Noah. Her high school days. How much of herself she’d given up just to fit in. To please as many people as she could, even if that hadn’t made her very happy.

Scratch that. Even if it had made her unhappy.

The only thing that she’d ever put her foot down about was pageants, and that was because she hadn’t wanted to develop a pill addiction by the time that she’d gotten her driver’s license.

By the time she’d quit, there was no way she’d been able to get herself onstage without something to calm her nerves.

Noah and his parents had happily had their family doctor write her a prescription when she’d confided in him that she was struggling. Like, who did that?

All so that she could compete in what amounted to a stupid, overblown talent show.

But Noah had loved having a pageant queen as a girlfriend.

She’d wondered, near the end of their sophomore year, if he’d break up with her when she finally quit. She hadn’t thought about it in so long, but she remembered that she’d felt . . . disappointed, was where she settled, thinking back on it, that he hadn’t.

Blake inhaled quickly, feeling a little more panicked than she’d been expecting tonight.

In her defense, she’d already been pretty keyed up upon arrival. A quick shower after she’d finished washing the truck hadn’t calmed the uncomfortable sensation that had taken up residence in her body, leaving an undercurrent of—What was it? Panic? Stress? Confusion?—some strange emotion buzzing through her.

Luckily, she didn’t think Maisie noticed.

The little girl was excitedly running ahead of them, circling back every minute or so to tell them about whatever she’d seen, like a scout returning to alert the troops. Five-year-old hyperactivity was a trait Blake was beyond grateful for right now.

The high school was close to Monroe’s and Blake’s houses, in the opposite direction of downtown. Blake wondered if Monroe had been back here yet. Probably not, if Blake had to guess.

Monroe kept her eye protectively on Maisie as she traipsed around, and Blake kept her eye on Monroe.

For what purpose, exactly? She had no idea.

To try and make sense of the feelings that Monroe stirred in her?

To try and understand why she felt like she was on the verge of a meltdown when she’d been to probably a hundred different festivals in Cypress Falls in her lifetime?

After the divorce, she’d done such a good job of not picking at the threads in her mind. The ones that seemed to want to loosen all on their own, begging for her attention.

What happened when one too many unraveled, and her entire sense of self fell apart?

Not that it was Monroe’s fault, but none of this had started happening until she’d waltzed back into Blake’s life.

Blake was so distracted that she was sure it wasn’t the first time that Monroe had said something, given the way she was staring at her.

Blake blinked Monroe’s features back into focus. “What’s that?” she asked, her ears filled with a ringing sound.

“The high school looks different,” Monroe (probably) repeated.

“Mm-hmm.” Her throat was tight, making it hard to get full sentences out.