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I can’t say anything else. My tongue refuses to work, and my legs feel like rubber. The popcorn slowly shifts out of my grip.

Archer puts his hand on mine to say he hears me, but his eyes remain on Dad.

“After all these years, you’ve only just noticed her,” Dad says defensively. “Now you think you know best?”

Archer’s lips press tightly together. He’s trying so hard to keep it in, even though he has every right to speak. I want to tell him it’s okay. I want to thank him for defending me and protecting me. I want to take his hand and run away with him, finish our kiss on the fence post, spend the rest of our lives together, dating, living, loving. But my limbs sway.

“Why can’t you let it go, sir?” Archer asks, his voice soft. “You’re making it too hard for her.”

He’s right. Dad...He’s making everything impossible.

But then, where is Dad? His face blurs, and I can’t see straight anymore as my heart crashes into my chest, preventing my breathing.

“Why can’t you stop putting Juliet in the middle?” Dad returns.

“I’m not putting her in the middle. That’s what I’m trying not to do.”

My vision sparkles between black and gray, but it’s just the darkness of the night. And yet, Archer’s face is no longer visible either, nor are the horses or the lights.

“I’ve done nothing but try to make amends for my mistakes.” Archer’s voice sounds muffled in my ringing ears. “What do I have to do to gain your trust, Mr. Mayor? What do I have to do to prove my love for Juliet?”

Love? Did I hear...

But no other thought comes as I whisper, “Archer, I can’t...”

My legs weaken. The world spins. All is black.

And I’m gone.

Archer

Juliet’s hand on my arm goes limp, and I turn in time to see her falling. I launch forward, catching her in my arms.

“Juliet,” I call out.

Alarm strikes through me as I cradle her in my hands and bring her gently to the ground, kneeling beside her.

Her dad comes to her other side, a hand against her brow. “Jules?”

She doesn’t stir. Concern digs to my core.

“What happened?” Mr. Monroe asks.

“I don’t know. She’s been fine all night.”

Did our arguing break her? Guilt swirls in me. I look up at the mayor, and for the first time in our lives, an understanding passes between us.

We need Juliet to wake up.

Patting her cheek gently, I say her name over and over again. Mr. Monroe does the same as he smooths her hair back from her brow. A crowd gathers around us, but I couldn’t care less.

“Juliet,” I say again.

Finally, she stirs, shaking her head. “I can’t see,” she moans, her words slurred. “It...sm...foggy.”

Relief floods through me that she’s awake, but I know we’re not out of the woods.

“She needs to get to the hospital,” someone says from behind us.