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We both laugh.

But the ache doesn’t go away.

I wrap my arms around my knees again, watching the flames dance higher.

I should go after him.

But I don’t. Not yet.

I sit there, wondering why my timing always feels like it’s just one beat behind the music.

And somewhere beyond the firelight, Wes is walking away.

Again.

Chapter twelve

Quinn

The bonfire crowd has thinned. The kids are crashing, sticky with sugar and smoke, and the music’s softened to a gentle playlist of folk covers and soft pop. But all I can hear is the pounding of my heart.

I should’ve known Ryan showing up would throw me off. What I didn’t expect was the weight of Wes’s absence after.

Because when I scan the backyard again, he’s gone.

I rise from the blanket, peeling marshmallow fluff off my jeans. Abby gives me a questioning glance, but I shake my head. I’m not ready to talk about it. Not yet.

The light breeze carries the scent of cedarwood and burning sugar, and it should be comforting. Instead, it feels like static. Like something about tonight is off-kilter, and I can’t quite fix it.

I start weaving through the crowd—past neighbors chatting about summer rec league sign-ups, past Liv holding court over the cider table, past Griff tossing glowsticks to a group of toddlers like he’s a human vending machine.

No Wes.

A flicker of panic rises in my throat. Not because I think he left. Because Idon’tthink he would—not without saying something. And the fact that he hasn’t… scares me.

I keep walking. Past the string lights. Past the last circle of laughing adults into the softer quiet where lawn gives way to gravel.

And that’s when I see him.

He’s leaning against a post near the far side of the fence, his back to me, talking to a woman I don’t recognize. She’s tall, blonde, and dressed in a pale green sundress that practically glows under the moonlight. She's laughing in that effortless, flirty way that curls around your gut before you can stop it. She touches his arm, just lightly, and I freeze.

I know that laugh. I know that body language.It’s not mine—but itusedto be.

I’m too far to hear what they’re saying. And maybe that’s a gift. Because if I hear her call him “Wes” with that warm, intimate tone, I might combust.

My stomach twists.

This is stupid. He’s allowed to talk to people. It’s probably someone from the youth league board. Or a parent. Or a literal stranger asking for directions to the bathroom.

But the damage is already done.

I was going to talk to him. I was going to find him and finally stop running. I had rehearsed it, even—Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I miss you.But now… now I feel like I showed up to a finish line only to realize the race ended without me.

The pit in my stomach grows cold. I turn back toward the fire, blinking hard.

Abby’s laughing with Jake, who’s trying to roast two marshmallows at once. Liv raises an eyebrow from across the lawn, but I look away before she can ask.

Whatever I thought was happening tonight, whatever flicker ofmaybehad started to warm inside me—is gone.