A “source close to the situation” mentioned a teenage romance gone wrong and a bitter rift between former best friends.Itwas exactly the kind of thingPickwickBendpretended not to care about.Whileeating it up with a spoon.
Behind her, the coffee shop door opened.
“Rose?”Tasha’svoice.“Youokay?”
She turned, holding up the paper.
And for the first time in days, she didn’t feel anger.
She felt done.
Done hiding.Donereacting.DonelettingBrianashape her story.
“This ends now,” she said, her voice steady.
“I’m going to tell them everything.”
The sun dippedlow overPickwickLake, casting a warm glow over the ballfield as the sound of laughter and chatter drifted on the breeze.Kidsdashed between folding tables, faces sticky with frosting.Neighborspassed around platters of cupcakes, peach cobbler, and slices of strawberry cake with hand-lettered signs reading“BakedwithLovebyRose.”
The stands were full.
The team was in uniform.
AndRosewasn’t trying to blend in.
She was trying tobe seen.
Tasha grabbed her hand as they stood near the bleachers.“Yousure about this?”
Rose nodded, her heart pounding but steady.“IfIdon’t tell it,Brianawill keep rewriting it for me.”
Cindy appeared with a cordless microphone and a wink.“Timeto break the curse,Cinderella.”
Rose laughed nervously, then climbed the small set of stairs onto the makeshift stage they’d built from the high school’s band risers.Themusic faded.Thecrowd quieted.
She looked out across the field—the bleachers, the lawn chairs, the people who’d bought her muffins and watched her grow up and spread rumors about her and shown up tonight anyway.
Acen stood near the dugout, arms folded, expression open and unwavering.
Riley gave her a thumbs-up from behind home plate, where he was chasing off two toddlers using baseball gloves as hats.
Rose took a breath.Andthen she spoke.
“I don’t really like microphones,” she said, earning a few chuckles.“Orbeing the center of attention.Whichis funny, considering how many people have had opinions about me lately.”
That got more laughs—sharper ones.
“I read the article,” she said plainly.“AndI’mnot here to refute it or spin it.I’mjust here to tell the truth.”
The crowd leaned in.
“I was eighteen whenIfell in love withAcenWheeler.Hewas my brother’s best friend, and we were young and messy and full of hope.Ithought we had forever.Butforever didn’t come.Andwhen it ended, it didn’t just break my heart.Itbroke part of me.”
The field was quiet now.Still.
“After he left town,Ifound outIwas pregnant.Ididn’t tell anyone.Noteven him.AndbeforeIcould figure out how to deal with it,Ilost the baby.IthoughtIwas being punished for something.Ithought it was my fault.Andinstead of facing it,Ishut down.”
A sharp breath rippled through the crowd.Butno one left.
