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He looked so much older, his face covered in a neatly trimmed beard, his chestnut hair a touch lighter from the sun. His frame even looked leaner than it had in his boyish days, the defined muscles in his arms peeking out from his short-sleeve button-down. His Converse were replaced with dark leather combat boots, and he wore sturdy khakis as opposed to his usual light-wash jeans or black sweatpants.

Alana peered at her own outfit, every insecurity flaring inside of her. Cutoffs with holes in them. A faded Marien T-shirt. Her old work boots. Her godforsaken nails with the chipping polish she had yet to fix.

She blinked up at her sister but was met by no one. Freya had already left her, back to making her rounds and marking down notes.

She blew out a breath and shoved her hands in her back pockets.

“Everything okay?”

Alana turned to Leo. He was staring intently at her, a small crease in his brow.

She cooled her features. “Fine, yeah. Everything’s okay.”

“You sure?”

She scowled. “Yes.”

Leo nodded in response, his gaze flicking to the tent that had Alana’s attention, then back to her. “Do you need to take a break?”

She cracked her knuckles. “What I need is a smoke.”

“Will that fix the problem?”

Alana bent low and ripped open another box. “I don’t think anything will fix the mess I made.”

She snapped her eyes shut, regretting the words instantly. They may have worked together this week and had a couple of decent conversations, but Leo was practically a stranger. Just because the man knew how to pay attention, knew how to read when she was being sarcastic or stubborn or uncomfortable, that didn’t mean she had to invite him into her life. Especially when all that was left of her was pain and regret.

Thankfully he didn’t press on. Instead, Leo leaned toward her. “Go. He’s gone.”

Alana whipped her head around. Chris was, in fact, no longer at Sophie’s tent.

She stood up and wiped the dust from her hands. “You don’t mind?”

He shook his head. She waited for some kind of snide remark, like I’ve survived every market without you so far. But Leo continued to surprise her.

“Go,” he repeated.

She nodded, shoving her sunglasses on her face in hopes that it would disguise her enough. Chris had left Sophie’s tent, but he could be somewhere else on the property.

Except Chris should have been the least of her worries. Five minutes into winding her way through the small crowds, she was stopped by Karol—or as Mom used to famously call her, Kooky Karol the Vegetable Lady.

“Lana!” Karol squealed. She threw her arms around Alana’s body, the dirt from her coveralls smearing on Alana’s shirt as she squeezed her tight. “I almost didn’t believe your father when he told me you were home.”

“Well…you better believe it,” she grumbled, pushing her hair back with her sunglasses.

Karol barked out a laugh and stepped back, squeezing Alana’s forearms tight enough to bruise. “Look at you! Oh honey, we were all so worried.”

She attempted to swallow, but her throat was dry. “I was fine.”

“Still, you should have called. Your father was distraught, and your mother⁠—”

Alana held her breath, that instinct to run so viscerally strong she could taste it on her tongue.

“Alana, oh my dear!”

She wasn’t sure what would be worse: having to hear Karol explain whatever she was about to say about her mother, or Connie joining the conversation.

Connie ran over and enveloped Alana in an embrace, which only encouraged Karol to hug her yet again. She was sandwiched between them, her arms stiff by her sides. “Um, hi, Connie,” she said.