Page 27

TWENTY-SIX

ANDRE

I’d treated Ethan like I had in high school—demanding, dismissive, cold.

Exactly what I’d promised myself, and him, I wouldn’t do again.

Part of me wanted to abandon my post at the start of the parade and chase after the car that was carrying Ethan.

But I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let down all these people counting on me to keep the parade running smoothly. Still, every time I waved another float or group into the parade, the weight of choosing responsibility over making things right pressed down on me.

Three times, when I had a few moments, I’d sent texts.

Andre: I’m sorry .

Andre: Let’s talk as soon as the parade’s done?

Andre: Please .

Sending more might be too much, but holding back felt equally wrong.

My phone sat like a weight in my pocket.

After the parade, people scattered to other festival activities. I headed toward the park, hoping Ethan might still be there after his photo shoot. Alex had already posted the shot on Maplewood’s social media feed, so he’d finished with that.

People waved and called out congratulations as I walked along the sidewalk. I mustered peppy responses while my mind fixated on how I’d spoken to Ethan. So far, it didn’t seem like word had circulated about my behavior.

Near Harmonic Circus, Kirk was talking animatedly with his dad. When he saw me, his expression clouded over.

Strange. From what I’d witnessed, he’d played brilliantly as part of a group on the store’s float, though Oscar’s presence there had puzzled me since he’d been scheduled to be with the hockey players.

It had been a nice addition, though, because Oscar had moved to the music the young musicians played.

“Mr. Thompson?” Kirk approached as if he thought I’d lash out at him, which hurt my heart.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry if I messed up the parade or got Ethan in trouble.

He was just trying to help me.” Kirk’s earnest explanation made my chest ache.

“I don’t think I could’ve played if he hadn’t helped me with my anxiety attack. ”

That was why Ethan was late.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut.

While I’d been going on about schedules and responsibility, Ethan had been helping a nervous kid find his courage.

God, I was such an idiot.

I swallowed hard. “You didn’t get him in trouble. I’m glad he was there for you. You played great by the way.”

Kirk nodded, though he didn’t look convinced. “Thanks, Mr. Thompson. It was a lot of fun once it got going. And I’m glad I didn’t cause a problem.”

“It’s all good.” I forced confidence into my voice.

“See you at the concert tonight?”

I nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it. The show and the fireworks will be a great end to the weekend.”

“It’s been epic.” Kirk’s smile returned. “I’ll see you around.”

As he returned to his dad, I wanted to crawl into a hole and pull it in after me. How could I apologize enough, not only for my behavior but for refusing to listen to his explanation?

I passed a couple of hours helping volunteers, moving on autopilot, checking items off my dwindling list. The more time that passed, the more concerned looks I received, making it painfully clear that word had spread about the altercation.

Finally, I arrived at the library for the last story time of the festival. “Are you sure you’re okay for this?” Clara asked as she joined me near the children’s area. “We can cover it.”

I sighed.

“Sorry.” Her sympathetic look pierced straight to my heart. “You know how this town works.”

“Yeah.” I scrubbed my hand across my face and over my head. “I appreciate your concern. Hanging out with the kids for a while should be a pleasant distraction, though.”

As the previous storyteller thanked their audience, I stepped in. A few kids headed back toward their parents but most stayed seated.

“Have you all liked the extra stories over the past few days?” I sat on the floor, forgoing the chair.

The couple dozen kids sounded off together.

“It’s great!”

“Loved it!”

“It should be like this all the time,” five-year-old Leslie declared at the end of the cacophony.

“We’ll see what we can do about that.” Their energy lifted my spirits. “So, who wants to pick what I read?”

A few hands shot up, and I picked Daphne, who’d raised her hand first. She went to the new books section and returned with Finding My Rainbow .

All the energy drained from my body. Of course it would be the book Ethan had read a few days ago.

She handed it to me, and I somehow managed to thank her with a smile.

I looked out at the eager faces and forced myself to focus. These kids deserved a great time, regardless of my personal drama.

A couple of kids who’d been here when Ethan read the book added foreshadowing to some scenes, encouraging Josh. Their investment in the story touched me. I asked what they thought might happen next, sparking wonderful discussions.

The children’s enthusiasm proved infectious, and somehow, sharing this book that was connected to Ethan eased a bit of the tension in my chest.

Still, I needed to talk to him.

I headed to the office for a moment alone and dropped into my chair, pulling out my phone.

My texts to Ethan remained unread.

Since several hours had passed, I took a chance with a new message.

Andre: Ethan, I know I messed up. And I know why you were late. Please let’s talk.

I stared at the screen, willing a response to appear.

Nothing. It stayed in Delivered status.

The silence cut deeper than any angry words could have.

Seeking distraction, I checked my email. Weekends typically brought few messages, just a few newsletters and junk mail. But one subject line jumped out.

Library Association of America: Opportunity to Discuss

I opened it immediately.

Hi Andre,

Sorry to bother you on a Sunday, and especially Pride Sunday. But I wanted to get this into your inbox. My staff and I would love to schedule a call with you tomorrow, if possible, to discuss an idea we’ve had. Please let us know.

Happy Pride!

Stella Bradley

Program Chair

My first instinct was to share this with Ethan. The email didn’t specify whether it was related to the award, but it should’ve thrilled me. Everything was muted, though, since the person I wanted to show the email to wasn’t talking to me at all.

After suggesting meeting times in my reply, I headed to Red’s. Tea and food might help. Maybe a side order of perspective too.

Mickey looked up as I entered, his usual warm smile subdued. “Comfort food time?”

I nodded, sliding onto a counter stool rather than my usual booth. The diner was peaceful since it was still too early for the dinner crowd.

“I screwed up.” I stared into the tea Mickey placed before me.

He stood across from me, hands on the counter. “I winced when I heard how you talked to him on the radio.” He paused and I held his gaze, trying to encourage him to continue. “Brought back memories of high school.”

Anger at myself welled up and threatened tears. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do that again, wouldn’t treat anyone like that. My focus was on getting everything so fucking perfect. I forgot what matters.”

“Which is?”

“People.” My breath came out shaky. “Ethan was helping someone who needed him, and I treated him like he shouldn’t have taken that time. I wouldn’t listen to his explanation. Now he won’t answer my texts.”

Mickey slid a plate with a grilled cheese in front of me. “Eat. I’m guessing you haven’t had a bite since breakfast. Then we’ll figure out how to fix it.”

I picked at the sandwich, appetite gone. “What if it’s not fixable? What if I just proved I haven’t changed at all?”

“The fact you’re sitting here beating yourself up proves you have.” Mickey’s voice came out gentle but firm. “The Andre from high school wouldn’t have recognized he’d done anything wrong.”

My phone buzzed, and my heart leaped.

I pulled it cautiously from my pocket.

Ethan: I’ll be at the amphitheater at 5:30 to host the concert.

The formal tone was another gut punch. No emojis. No warmth. Just facts.

“He’s still showing up to host.” I showed Mickey the message. “That’s something, right?”

“It’s very Ethan. He won’t let others down, even when he’s hurting.” He gave me a pointed look. “Which means you have a chance to see him and talk. Don’t waste it.”

“I won’t. I can’t lose him. Not when I’m falling in love with him.” Taking a bite from the sandwich, I let it sink in that I’d just said that out loud for the first time.

Mickey’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s new. Have you told him that?”

“No. And now definitely isn’t the time.” I sighed. “I gotta fix it first.”

Mickey and I talked intermittently as he worked the register and waited on customers. Sometimes people chatted with me about how wonderful the weekend had been. Just like the LAoA email, though, the accolades couldn’t permeate the sadness.

By the time I headed to the amphitheater, I still lacked any brilliant ideas on how to make sure he’d talk to me.

Ethan arrived exactly at 5:30.

He looked incredible in dark jeans and a Maplewood Bears Pride shirt that made his eyes pop. He smiled as he talked to Brent, the stage manager. But when he spotted me, he turned polite and distant.

After giving him some time with Brent, I approached. My patience had run out.

“I’m sorry to interrupt. Ethan, can we talk?” I asked softly. “Please?”

He hesitated then nodded. We moved to a quiet corner away from the preparation bustle.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out. “This morning I was out of line. I fell into old patterns and that’s inexcusable.”

Ethan’s expression remained neutral. “You’re right. It’s not excusable.”

“Kirk told me what happened.” My voice broke. “I should have trusted that you were doing something important.”

“You didn’t even ask.” His quiet voice carried hurt. “You just assumed. Just like in high school.”

The controlled pain in his voice made me ache. “I hate I made you feel that way.”

Ethan ran a hand through his hair, gathering his thoughts. A few locks fell across his forehead, and I wanted to push them back into place.

“I can’t do this right now. I have a show to host, and it can’t start late.”

Ouch .

“I understand.” I longed to reach for him, but I held back. “Maybe after? Before you meet up with your friends?”

He was celebrating the end of the festival at Red’s with the people he’d brought to town. I imagined he had removed me from his guest list.

“I don’t know.” He straightened his shoulders.

The words deflated me. “Well, I’ll be around.”

He nodded once, then returned to Brent.

Protective walls threatened to rise around my heart. I couldn’t let that happen. I didn’t want to push him farther away. An incredible future awaited if I could prove I wasn’t that high school kid anymore.

But watching him charm the sound check crew with a smile that never reached his eyes, I feared he might be lost already.