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We all arrive as a group, but Rory ditches us first, sneaking off to where Johnny’s manning the smoking grill, smiling like a lunatic at Eliza Steele. Anna’s next, blushing as Brody swoops in and ushers her away with an arm around her waist. At least the traitor has the thought to offer me a silentsorryover her shoulder whilst abandoning me.

“Giana is supposed to be here today,” Daisy says, brushing her body up against mine.

I feign relaxation and press my palm to the centre of her back, too aware of the curious glances aimed our way not to give them something. “It’s been a while since she’s been at one of these.”

“That’s why the moms waited until now to have the barbecue. Once they heard Gi was coming home for a few days, they decided she had to be here. Mama hasn’t stopped gushing about it for two weeks now.”

I nod, finding a spot on the back fence to stare at. “They’re all looking at us.”

“Let them. We’re ready.”

“I wouldn’t put it past my mother to show,” I warn her.

Daisy’s laugh sounds almost . . . devious. “You mean I’ll have another chance to tell her how badly she’s failed you? That doesn’t sound so bad.”

She’s too at ease right now. Her effortless teasing and friendliness are out of place, considering her actions this past week. It doesn’t feel fake, and that’s confusing me most of all.

As subtly as possible, I drop my hand from her back. Touching her isn’t helping me keep myself sorted right now. Fuck a performance.

“I’ll go get us something to drink,” I mutter, taking a step forward to leave.

“Bryce.” My name is nothing more than a puff of air on her lips.

It makes it impossible to move any further. “What?”

“We’ll talk after, okay? Let’s just get through the next couple of hours. Can you please stop pulling away from me until then?”

The hurt in her eyes smacks me across the face. But she’s not the only one hurt, and I’m not the person to let my own feelings go unanswered. Never have been and never will be. It’s better she learns that now before I get even more fucking obsessed with her.

“I’m just following your lead, Sunshine. I’ll find you later.”

And with that, I force myself to leave her there, alone and odds are, being the good girl she is, pretending nothing’s wrong. It makes me feel like horse shit to know I’ve hurt her feelings and stolen her sunshine. Still, communication works both ways.

If she wants it from me, she has to be willing to put in the work too.

The four blue and white coolers set up beside the picnic table and between camping chairs are open, each one overflowingwith ice and an assortment of drinks. I snatch a cold can of Fanta and frown when I notice the lack of boxed iced tea.

The two women on the chairs closest to me are trying way too hard to look like they’re not staring, but I’ve been around my fair share of busybodies to know better. Pinning them beneath a cold stare, I raise my brows in a silent question.

The one with the platinum-blonde hair and seaweed-coloured eyes pales and laughs awkwardly while her friend ignores me altogether, growing the colour of a tomato.

With a huff, I bypass them and carry my drink into the house. Cherry Peak is a small town, which means everyone knows everyone. To an extent. Those two women were in my graduating class, but we’ve only spoken out of obligation in the past. The same can be said for the majority of those who live here.

If I had to speak to and know every single person who lived here the way someone like Eliza Steele enjoys doing, I’d have left a long fucking time ago.

The interior of Rachel and Jennifer Mitchell’s house is the opposite of my parents’ place. While their yard is a huge corner lot, the house itself isn’t that big. It’s spacious enough to have housed four kids, but they’ve made it appear larger with the way every room has been decorated for ease of use instead of appearances. A small breakfast nook cluttered with random papers and mismatched décor pieces, a dark-stained dining table for six with its fair share of dents and scrapes, and a massive fabric sectional in the living room that could easily fit all of them.

The abundance of childhood photos hung on the walls and placed in funky frames all over the kitchen counters, wooden shelves, and tables has always been hard for me to see at these parties purely out of jealousy. This time, however, it’s a bit easier.

I’m glad that they’re out in the open for me to look at. Daisy deserves to have a family who’s so proud of her that they can’t spare one inch of the wall or tabletop to be without a photo of her.

Having been inside the house more than a dozen times, I know they always keep iced tea boxes in the fridge for Daisy. When I open the door to find a similar stock to the one I’ve started keeping at home, I grab one and then head back outside.

The first person I see when I step onto the patio deck is my mother. Her natural scowl ensures the other partygoers give her a wide berth but in turn makes her look like a total cold-hearted bitch. It’s a shame she shared that gene with me.

Past my mother’s head, I catch a glimpse of deep red hair flying in the wind. When I shift my feet a step to the left, Daisy appears beneath the giant oak tree, rendering me speechless once again.

The laugh that bubbles out of her is wild and free, and the spread of her lips lights up the entire backyard. It hits me like a kick to the ribs that I’m not the one the reason behind either of those things. I want to be. So fucking badly.