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“Okay, good. Glad we had this chat. I’ll handle what I can on my end. You just try to keep your head down until the holidays are over. This will all have blown over by the new year, so don’t stress too much, okay? Take care of yourself.”

Natasha disconnects the call, and I let my phone drop onto the bed. Just like yesterday, my head is a mess of thoughts and worries and anxiety. I keep thinking about how people were looking at me at the festival and the way the news is spreading so far beyond my control. My stomach hurts, and my heart keeps racing.

To top it all off, I haven’t heard from any of the guys since yesterday. I told them I needed some time, but it still hurts that they haven’t reached out. Not even a text to tell me that they hope I’m okay or anything. That’s really just making it more clear that it was just a casual thing for them too. Something they can just walk away from now that it’s gotten so complicated. That was how we were all thinking of it, I assume, but having the confirmation like this really sucks.

I drag my hands down my face, getting ready to get up, when someone knocks on my door.

“Brynn.” My mother’s voice is sharp, and my stomach drops even more. “Can you come down here, please? We’d like to talk to you.”

Oh god. Oh fuck. Of course they’ve found out now. It was only a matter of time.

I don’t even bother dragging my feet. I just get up and get dressed, brushing my teeth and putting myself together as much as I can before going downstairs to present myself to my parents.

Owen and Hazel are there too, whispering furiously to each other. They break off when I walk in, so that answers the question of what they were talking about.

“Brynn, can you explain why Patti Simpson asked me if it’s true my daughter is sleeping with two men this morning?” Mom asks. Her arms are folded, and her face is unreadable.

“I saw something about it on social media last night,” Hazel says. “It’s picking up traction pretty quickly.”

Owen frowns. “But it’s not true, right? Someone’s just making stuff up. The real question is why. Did you do something to piss someone off? It doesn’t really make sense for them to go after you like this.”

That might be the worst part, honestly. That my brother doesn’t think it’s true. He thinks I’m being targeted by a liar and not just having my private life spilled out on the internet for everybody to see.

My parents are watching me with intent gazes, everyone waiting for me to say something. I could lie, but what would that accomplish? I don’t want to end up ruining Catherine’s reputation when she’s telling the truth.

So I take a deep breath and let my shoulders sag. “It’s not a lie,” I tell them.

“What?” My dad’s voice cuts in sharp. “What do you mean it’s not a lie?”

“I mean, it’s true. Someone walked in on me… with two guys. We weren’t doing anything at the time, but…” I wave my hand. They can fill in the blanks.

Mom’s eyes go wide, anger and disappointment on her face. “Brynn Evelyn Carter, I can’t believe you would do this. I thought you were smarter than this. I thought you had more common sense. Why would you wait until you’re here to do something like this?”

“What?” I frown, not sure what the location has to do with anything.

“You know how important the festival is to this family,” Dad says. “You know what we’re trying to accomplish. Why would you do anything that could risk our reputation right now? Your actions reflect on this family, whether you like it or not, and right now all eyes are on us.”

Of course. Of course that’s their issue. Of course it’s all about the festival and the family name and the legacy. Nothing about me and my feelings or my privacy being violated.

“We can’t afford to do anything that will distract from your upcoming performance,” Mom says. “You can’t afford to. That is going to be the big moment of the festival. I thought you understood that.”

“I do,” I say, my voice flat. “I understand. This isn’t going to distract from it, I promise.”

My chest hurts, but I know what they want to hear. It’s the same thing I tell Natasha or other people in the industry when they question if my own internal feelings are going to conflict with my career. Nod and smile and tell them I’m focused on the right things. It’s just easier to do what’s asked of me to keep everyone happy.

Mom still looks troubled, but Dad sits back on the couch with a satisfied smile. “Good. I know you’re a creative, Brynn, and we respect that you want to live your life outside the box, so to speak. But something like this is taking it too far. We don’t want to end up in some kind of scandal like the Thorntons, right?”

I swallow hard. I don’t see how three consenting adults doing what they want is anywhere near the same thing as committing tax fraud, but I know that’s not what my dad wants to hear. So I just nod, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. It’s so easy for them to judge me like this, but they’ve never once asked if I’m okay. It’s like they don’t even care.

Hazel shoots Dad a look, but doesn’t say anything. The conversation moves back to the festival, as it was always going to, and I just go into the kitchen to make myself some coffee, trying to get my head on straight.

A few minutes later, Hazel comes in, hovering uncertainly by the door. “Hey,” she says. “I just… I want you to know that I’m here if you need me, okay? If things get too stressful, we can just go for a drive. Get some ice cream or something. Just say the word.”

I blink at her, caught off guard by the offer. “Oh. Sure. Thanks.”

She nods, stepping forward to pull me into a hug. “Owen and I are heading out. I think Mom and Dad will be distracted with festival stuff for the rest of the day, so they should leave you alone. Take care, okay?”

They do leave me alone, which should be a relief, but really that was just a drop in the bucket. I can’t relax or calm down at all. Everything in me is stress and sadness and feeling pinned down by the expectations on me. My parents want me to uphold the family name and not embarrass them. My manager wants me to do what’s best for my career. The guys… I don’t even know what they want because they’re not saying anything.