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My smile stretches over his shoulder. I feel beautiful—I truly do. My hair is curled into chestnut ringlets, partially pulled up on top with a rhinestone-studded clip. My skin shimmers with glitter-infused lotion, and my face is painted tastefully. I’m excited for Ryker and my girlfriends to see me. I’m the final stop on the limo ride over, giving me a little extra time for family pictures and last-minute preparations.
“Your brothers are going to blow a fuse when they see you. God help any poor boy who dares glance in your direction,” Dad says, pulling back to drink me in with pride.
I chuckle, dipping my chin again. Mom fluffs my hair, adjusting a long ribbon of curls over my shoulder and sighing sweetly.
Theo is stopping by for photographs before his shift with Kip tonight and should be here any minute. Brant is outside on the patio.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell my parents, excusing myself from the living area, gathering my long skirt and making my way to the back door to surprise Brant.
I think he’ll love my dress as much as I love it.
Will he think of bright skies and bluebirds flying high, just like I did?
Will our favorite song pop into his head, filling him with magic and warmth?
A smile blooms as I traipse through the kitchen and peek through the glass door. Brant is standing in the center of the patio, staring out at a big tree—the same one that used to hold our childhood tree house. Memories spring to mind of storybook games, grand adventures, and summer sleepovers with flashlights and buckets of popcorn as I huddled in my favorite place with Theo and Brant.
I hate that I fell.
I hate that Dad tore it apart the next morning, closing a chapter of my childhood that will always be near and dear to my heart.
Inhaling a deep breath, I tug open the patio door and step out onto the pavers.
Brant turns to me.
Everything about him seems to go still—his stance, his muscles, even his breath. He just stares at me across the patio, silent and unflinching. The emotion that crosses his face isn’t what I saw when Mom and Dad saw me walk down the staircase. It’s not the same at all.
He almost looks like he’s in pain.
Does he hate my dress?
There’s the heat of a thousand suns blazing in his eyes, and I worry that it’s anger. “Hi,” I say meekly. My lips feel dry even though they’re bathed in cherry gloss. Clearing my throat, I take a hesitant step forward, pulling a smile to my face. “What do you think?”
I do a silly twirl.
When I curtsy, then straighten, Brant blinks, appearing to shake himself of whatever emotion stole him away from me.
He averts his eyes for a moment, then looks back at me. “You look stunning.”
Warmth trickles through me like a sun-kissed stream. “You mean it?”
“Of course I mean it.”
“I wasn’t sure. You looked mad.”
His gaze flickers over me, and when our eyes lock again, a shiver skips down my spine. His stare is so penetrative, it almost feels like he can see inside me—straight through to my furiously pounding heart. My hand instinctively presses to my chest, as if I can calm the beats.
Brant rubs at the back of his neck, a smile finally lifting. “I was a little mad.”
My heart thumps faster. I press harder.
“I was mad I’d have to get this new suit dirty, fighting off all the boys tonight.”
A sense of relief washes over me as I drop my arm, laughter slipping free. “It is a nice suit.” I take a few steps forward, watching Brant’s smile slip further with every step I take. When we’re nearly toe-to-toe, I lift my hands to adjust the little blue bow tie, his Ivory scent mingling with a new cologne. Something woodsy and clean. “Your bow is blue like my dress,” I note.
That wasn’t planned. It makes me smile.
Brant’s eyes are fixed away from me as he says, “It’s a pretty dress.”
