Page 19

DEAN

By the time I made it to the park, the place was unrecognizable.

What was usually a sleepy green patch of lawn with a couple of benches and Winnie’s Wishing Well now looked like the lovechild of a monster truck rally and a NASA test site. Trusses and towers rose like launchpads blocking out the sun. Cables twisted underfoot in every direction, marked with fluorescent tape and, for reasons I couldn’t begin to understand, one hand-painted sign that read: Do Not Lick the Cables .

Crew members in hi-vis vests zigzagged around the field, shouting into walkie-talkies, rolling speaker stacks into place, and arguing over something called a “diode sync issue,” which sounded way out of my league.

Suddenly someone yelled, “Heads up!” and a roll of gaffer tape went flying through the air, missing my head by mere inches.

“Jesus Christ.” I tucked my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket, kept my head down, and told myself to breathe. Two more days. Two more days and this would be over. Two more days and I could go back to pretending to enjoy my career while slowly losing my mind in peace.

The thing was, I hadn’t wanted any of this. The cameras, the lights, the screaming crowds, the goddamn terrifying drones overhead that made me feel like I was about to be audited by the government.

But Astrid wanted it. And Astrid usually got what she wanted.

Also, there was the stalker thing.

So here I was, playing along, putting on the show, trying not to crack down the middle from the anxiety.

And then there were other reasons my chest felt like it was in a vise.

Because as much as this whole thing made my skin crawl, there was one person here who made the ground feel a little steadier beneath my feet.

I spotted him across the park, and the minute my eyes landed on him, my heart did a drum solo, loud and wild.

Harry.

Cap pulled low, clipboard in hand, he tried his best to control the chaos, or at least one little corner of it. His broad shoulders looked like they could hold up half the rigging if the trusses gave out. His arms were tanned from the sun, strong and sure, and there was that beard, bushy and dark, that made me want to lose my damn mind.

He laughed at something Mitch said, head tilted back just enough that I caught the smile. That soft, rare, easy Harry smile that most people didn’t even know existed.

God, I wanted to walk straight over there and grab him by the front of his shirt, press my mouth to that bearded jaw, feel his hands slide under my jacket and let him claim me right there in front of everybody. Hell, let the whole town know. Screw the shock and surprise, screw the secrecy.

But I couldn’t.

Because nobody could know.

Not yet.

The thought of anyone guessing, anyone even suspecting , made my skin prickle like a thousand tiny needles stabbing me.

“Dean! Dean! ”

Astrid’s voice snapped me out of my muddled thoughts and emotions like I’d been slapped.

She was striding toward me, iPad in one hand, headset clamped down like she was calling in an airstrike.

“Dean, focus, darling. We’ve got to go over the load-in schedule, the pyro cues, and the second outfit change for the finale.” She glanced at me, narrowed her eyes. “Are you even listening?”

I blinked at her. “Uh—yeah. Yeah. Load-in. Pyro. Finale.”

She gave me the I know you’re lying but I don’t have time to deal with you look she’d pretty much perfected.

“Good.” She flicked through something on her iPad, lips pursed. “We’re tight on rehearsal time, but I’ve carved out three hours tomorrow afternoon for you to run through the set list. Lighting wants to test the spot op tracking, and we need to rehearse the camera cranes, so they don’t get too close on the aerial shots during ‘Break Me Down.’ Also, your mic pack’s arriving tonight. Pray it actually works in this backwater frequency zone.”

I nodded along, trying to pretend my stomach wasn’t doing somersaults. My eyes kept drifting—couldn’t help it—back across the field to where Harry was crouched down next to Ginny’s wheelchair, listening to her like whatever she was saying was the most important thing in the world. It probably was. That kid was smart as all get out.

Astrid kept talking, fast and sharp. “Soundcheck’s still locked in unless we hit a delay on the roof rigging—but don’t worry, I’ve threatened Barney’s job twice already this morning, so we should be fine. Also, I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that Benson Boone is a no-show. Apparently, he has some children’s charity to attend. Rude! But the good news is Bogdan has doubled his security team, so we’ll have eyes everywhere, looking out for you-know-who.”

I tried to nod like I was paying attention, but my throat felt tight. All I could think about was the way Harry’s hand rested steadily on the back of Ginny’s chair, the way his forearms flexed as he stood again, tucking the clipboard under one arm, sleeves shoved up just enough to show that line of hair on his arms that I’d traced with my fingers just yesterday.

I clenched my hands into fists inside my pockets.

Don’t look at him like that, Dean. Don’t give it away.

But my body didn’t seem to care what my brain was saying, because my heart was still racing, and my stomach was still wrapping itself into knots.

It would’ve been so easy to run to him, to throw my arms around him, kiss him until I forgot how much this whole world terrified me right now, when all I really wanted to do was live in his world.

But we couldn’t.

Not here. Not yet.

“Dean!” Astrid snapped her fingers an inch from my face. “ For God’s sake, stay with me! ”

I flinched. “Right. Yeah. I’m here.”

She gave me a sharp look, then narrowed her eyes like she was trying to read me. “You’re nervous.”

“No, I’m fine,” I lied badly.

Astrid’s lips pressed into a tight line, but thankfully, she didn’t push it.

“Okay. Listen up.” She stabbed at the iPad again. “Here’s what we’re locking in next…”

But I barely heard her.

Because across the park, Harry looked up—and for half a second, his eyes met mine.

And just like that, I was gone all over again.

* * *

By late afternoon, the war zone had quietened down, at least a little. The park was still tangled with cables and half-assembled trusses, but most of the crew were packing down, coiling wires, locking up gear crates, and shouting things like, “Who moved my impact driver?!” across the field.

The air smelled like crushed grass, sweat, and hot electronics.

Astrid clapped her hands once, loud and assertive. “Alright, people! That’s a wrap for today. Tomorrow we’ve got sound check then a full rehearsal in the afternoon. If anyone oversleeps, I will send Barney to your house with the fog cannon.”

A couple of groans rippled through the crew, but mostly folks nodded, too tired to argue. She flipped her headset up and turned toward me.

“Dean,” she called out, voice slicing through the leftover hum of generator noise. “Home. Rest. Hydrate. No tequila tonight—I want your voice.”

I gave her a half-hearted thumbs -up and probably the worst fake smile in history. She narrowed her eyes at me like she knew exactly how little I meant it, but let it slide.

The Mulligan’s Mill crew started peeling off one by one.

Dad hoisted a coil of rope onto his shoulder and gave me a friendly wave. “See you at home, kiddo.”

Mitch pushed Ginny back toward the path, the two of them deep in conversation—probably about the logistics of emergency egress or how to overthrow the production team via spreadsheet.

Bo gave a lazy salute, sunglasses still on even though the sun was dipping.

Brooks trailed behind them with his book under one arm, muttering something to Madeline about voltage converters like he was personally offended by their existence.

Maggie yelled, “Bye besties, love you, see you tomorrow—don’t let the lasers bite,” and immediately tripped over a speaker case, catching herself on the rigging with the grace of a baby panda.

God, I loved this town.

And then there was Harry.

Standing off to the side by the equipment trailer, arms crossed over his chest, cap pulled low, watching the last of the crew roll out with that quiet steadiness of his. Unshakable. Dependable. Strong.

And mine.

Even if nobody could know.

I watched him shift his weight, scratch the back of his neck absently, and something about the simple movement—the way his biceps flexed just a little as he did it—made my breath catch in my throat.

Harry caught my eye, and his lips twitched into the smallest, softest smile.

God, how I wanted to kiss him.

I wanted to walk straight over, wrap my arms around that solid body, and bury my face against his chest where I could finally breathe easy. But there were still too many eyes, too many people packing down cables and stacking road cases.

So, I stayed put.

But Harry didn’t.

He pushed off from the trailer and wandered my way, slow and easy, like he had all the time in the world. I could tell it was an act. He didn’t want anyone figuring things out either, at least not yet.

When he stopped in front of me, his voice dropped, soft enough that nobody else could hear.

“You holding up?”

I nodded, but it felt like a lie. “Yeah. Mostly.”

Harry gave me a look—the kind of look that saw right through me.

“I know that face,” he said gently. “That’s your ‘I’m absolutely not okay but if anyone asks, I’ll say I’m fine’ face.”

I swallowed hard. “Is it that obvious?”

“It is to me.”

I felt my chest ache at the sound of it. God, I loved him so much it scared me.

For a second, neither of us said anything. The only sound was the rumble of a distant generator shutting down and the buzz of a cicada somewhere in the trees.

Then Harry leaned in just a fraction, his voice even lower.

“Think you can sneak off without your boss noticing?” His eyes glinted with something softer. Something just for me. “Grab a drink with me?”

My heart nearly leapt out of my damn chest.

I nodded, trying not to smile too hard, but I knew I was failing. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “I can do that.”

* * *

Aunt Bea’s wasn’t just a bar.

It was the bar, and no cool cocktail lounge or trendy nightclub in LA could hold a candle to it.

Stepping through the big sliding doors was like walking into another world. String lights crisscrossed the beams overhead, casting everything in a soft golden glow. The long wooden bar had been polished so smooth it shone, lined with high-backed stools and framed by shelves stacked with bottles in every color of the rainbow.

The jukebox in the corner was humming out The Supremes—“ Baby Love ”— and the smell of bourbon and lemon oil hung in the air like a welcome home hug.

Behind the bar stood Aunt Bea, larger than life and twice as beautiful as I remembered. She was six -foot -something in heels, a towering swirl of raven-black curls piled high on her head and topped with a tiara, makeup sharp enough to cut glass. Her deep plum lipstick caught the light when she smiled—which she did the second she spotted me walking in behind Harry.

“Well, well, well!” she boomed, voice dripping honey and sass as she put one hand on her hip and pointed a finger at me like I’d just walked in late to church. “Look what the cat dragged back into town.”

I laughed, already feeling the tension in my shoulders ease a little. “Hey, Aunt Bea.”

“ Hey, Aunt Bea, ” she mocked, waggling her finger. “That all I get after a whole year?”

She sashayed out from behind the bar like a queen making her entrance—arms open wide, sequins shimmering like a disco ball. She grabbed me into a hug so tight I swear my ribs popped.

“Mmmm!” She pulled back just enough to hold me at arm’s length, looking me up and down like she was appraising a prize bull at the county fair. “Well, damn, sugar. I see fame’s been feeding you real nice. You filled out good! Got that jawline workin’ too. Look at you! ”

I felt my face flush hot. “You’re being too nice.”

She gave me a look. “Baby, I’m being accurate. Don’t make me fetch my reading glasses to make the point.”

Harry snorted softly beside me, and Bea swung her gaze toward him.

“And you, handsome—”She winked. “Still brooding and delicious as ever. I’d flirt with you, but I respect you far too much.”

Harry gave her one of those shy, half -smiles that made my knees wobble.

Bea turned back to me, folding her arms under her chest with a little shake of her head. “I gotta say, I’m surprised to see you walkin’ through that door like a grown-ass man. Last time you were here, I couldn’t even serve you a Sprite without checkin’ your ID twice. Now look at you—legal and lookin’ dangerous.”

“This’ll be my first drink at your bar,” I admitted, sliding onto one of the stools.

“Well, hell, sugar, that calls for somethin’ special.” She snapped her fingers and pointed to the bottles behind her. “You trust me to make you somethin’ good?”

“I trust you.”

“Mmmm,” she hummed, pleased. “Good answer.”

She got to work, graceful and dramatic, throwing a lemon twist into the air and catching it one-handed like it was all part of the show. She poured, stirred, tasted, nodded to herself. “Can’t have your first drink at Aunt Bea’s be basic. We’re goin’ classic with a little extra.” She slid a cocktail glass toward me, rim sugared, the drink bright and golden. “Bee’s Knees. Gin, honey, lemon. Sweet, strong, a little sting in the tail. Just like me.”

Harry chuckled and leaned on the bar beside me, and Bea popped the cap off a beer bottle for him without even asking what he wanted.

“So.” Bea braced both hands on the bar, leaning in close. “I heard y’all are tearing up my nice peaceful park with some kinda techno monster truck circus. Got people runnin’ around like squirrels on espresso.”

I groaned. “Yeah. It’s… a lot.”

Bea rolled her eyes, grinning. “Mmm-hmm. Your little friend Astrid came in here last night, flappin’ her little city girl mouth about lasers and line arrays like she was planning the second coming of Beyoncé. You sure know how to turn things upside -down, baby boy.”

I felt a flush of guilt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Aunt Bea simply winked. “Oh sugar, don’t you worry your pretty little head over it. I’m sure everything will be back to normal before we know it. Like my Grammy always said—no parade stays fabulous forever, even glitter settles at some point.”

“Your Grammy said that?” Harry asked.

Bea primped her hair proudly. “Actually, that one’s mine.” She gave me one more playful squint, then patted my hand. “Good to see you back, honeybunch. I’ll leave you boys to it.”

She sauntered off down the bar, hips swaying and lips syncing to the song as the jukebox switched over to Stevie Wonder’s “ Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I’m Yours). ”

Harry turned toward me on the stool, elbow on the bar, eyes soft and steady.

“You alright?” he asked quietly.

I nodded, but it was shaky. “Yeah. I mean… no. Not really.”

Harry reached out, his fingers brushing against my knee under the bar, hidden from view. Just enough to let me feel him there. I pressed my leg back against his, craving his touch.

“I hate lying,” I blurted before I could stop myself. “I hate… hiding this. Hiding us. Now that you and I know how we feel, I want the whole world to know.”

Harry’s gaze didn’t waver. “Me too. But… first we have to figure out a way to break it to your dad.”

I looked down at my drink, tracing the rim of the glass with my fingertip. “I don’t even know where to start with that. He doesn’t suspect a thing, I’m sure of it. How’s he gonna take it?”

Harry sighed softly, leaning in a little closer, voice low. “I’ve been running that one over in my head all day too.”

“I mean, we can’t just… blurt it out. ‘Hey Dad, surprise, I’m in love with your best friend. Also, we’ve had the most mind-blowing sex imaginable.’ I don’t think that’s gonna go down real smooth over breakfast.”

Harry gave a quiet chuckle, but his smile was sad. “Yeah. Not exactly a Hallmark moment.” He paused for a sip of his beer and added, “Mind-blowing? Was I really mind-blowing?”

“Harry, I hate to sound like Astrid, but will you please stay focused? And yes,” he added. “You were totally mind-blowing.”

I downed half my drink in one go. It went down easier than I expected. “We need to tell Dad at some point. We have to. I can’t keep this inside much longer.”

Harry nodded slowly, fingers still resting steady on my knee. “We’ll tell him,” he said. “Together. When the time’s right.”

I swallowed hard. “When’s that gonna be?”

Harry’s eyes softened, warm and sure. “Soon. But not tonight. Not till after this concert is over.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding and leaned into the quiet between us, the jukebox humming in the background, Bea’s laughter floating from the other end of the bar.

Right now, just for this moment, it was enough to sit here with him, drink in hand, his touch steady and grounding, knowing he wasn’t going anywhere… except maybe the bathroom.

Harry drained the last of his beer, gave me a soft smile, then stood, his fingers brushing my knee once more under the bar before pulling away. “Back in a minute,” he said, nodding toward the bathroom at the back of the barn.

I watched him go—broad shoulders, easy stride, the way his hand dragged absently along the edge of the bar as he passed. God, I wanted to follow him. Lock the door behind us, pin him against the wall, kiss him until all the dread and uncertainty drained out of my chest.

Instead, I stayed where I was, staring down at the lemon twist floating in my drink, turning it slowly between my fingers like it might give me some kind of answer.

Aunt Bea reappeared, gliding back down the length of the bar with a swish of her sequined hips and a fresh dish towel tossed over one shoulder. She leaned one elbow on the bar beside me and gave me a look. Not the playful, teasing look from before. This was a curious, delving, eyebrow-up expression.

“Oh baby,” she said, tilting her head. “I’ve seen that look before. That’s the face of a man whose heart’s locked up tighter than his mama’s liquor cabinet… and he ain’t got the key or the good sense to go lookin’! Now tell your Aunt Bea… what’s got your pretty little knickers in a twist, honey-pie?”

I gave her a tired smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “I’m fine.”

Bea narrowed her gaze, unimpressed. “Uh-huh. And I’m the Queen of England.”

I huffed out a soft laugh, shaking my head.

“Baby,” Bea went on, propping her chin in her hand. “Lemme tell you somethin’ about that little fib you just tried to sell me. I’ve been performin’ kinks and servin’ drinks longer than you been alive. I’ve seen every kinda heartbreak there is. Breakups, breakdowns, bad karaoke choices—you name it. If you ask me, you got the look of a boy carryin’ around a secret so big it’s about to pop the buttons off your shirt… which, by the way, I wouldn’t mind seeing. But I figure there’s more you wanna get off your chest than just your clothes.”

I swallowed hard, eyes on my glass.

Bea reached out gently, tapping one long lacquered nail against the rim of my drink.

“Now, I ain’t here to pull it outta you. But I am here to tell you—whatever it is you’re twistin’ yourself up over? Whatever storm you’re holdin’ back in that chest of yours? Baby, it’s gonna find its way out sooner or later. Might as well be on your terms.”

I looked up at her, throat tight. “It’s just… complicated.”

Bea smiled, warm and wide. “Baby, everything worth a damn is complicated. Love, family, taxes.” She gave an exhausted roll of her eyes. “Especially taxes. My ex-boyfriend Ernie knew that all too well, but that’s a story for another time.”

I chuckled despite myself, the knot in my chest loosening just a little.

Bea straightened up, giving her towel a snap before tossing it onto the counter. “And let me say this too, sugar—ain’t nothin’ wrong with being scared. Being scared means it matters. But you can’t let scared make your choices for you. Otherwise, you’re just lettin’ fear sit in the driver’s seat while your heart rides shotgun.”

I blinked at her. “Has anyone ever told you how wise you are?”

Bea laughed. “Oh honey, have you seen my booty? Who do you think put the ‘ass’ in ‘wiseass’?” She gave my shoulder a little pat before turning to refill a beer for one of the regulars down the line.

As she walked away, she called back over her shoulder without even turning around, “Also, for the record, sugar-pie—you are absolutely allowed to be happy. Don’t you dare ever forget it.”

I sat there for a moment, staring at the last sip of my drink, Bea’s words ringing in my head as though she’d just read my mind— and my heart.

When Harry came back, he found me smiling.