What if people started talking? What if they put two and two together?
But then I glanced over at Mia, her eyes shining as Natalie described the carnival. Cotton candy, rides, games… it sounded like the perfect way to spend a Saturday evening. After the last couple of weeks, didn’t we both deserve a little fun? “You know what? Why not,” I said, a smile spreading across my face. “Mia and I need a night out.”
Natalie beamed, clapping her hands together. “Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m sure Mia will have a blast.”
Alonso chuckled, slapping me on the back. “Looks like we’ll be making a night of it, little brother. Elena will be thrilled. The boys have been talking about this carnival for weeks.”
As we said our goodbyes, I watched Mia skip ahead to the truck. Now that I’d committed us to going, anxiety crept back into my thoughts. The thought of judgmental eyes following us tonight at the carnival made my stomach twist into a knot.
Then Mia turned, her face alight with excitement, and something in me shifted. Her joy, so pure and unrestrained, wascontagious. This was what we needed—a chance to cover the gray of the past two weeks with the vibrant colors of the carnival. As I helped Mia into the truck, I allowed myself a small smile.
Tonight, we’d reclaim a bit of our happiness, gossip mongers be damned.
People were going to talk, whether I was there or not, so why was I hiding at home?
And Ken… What if he was there? What would I say? As I helped Mia into the car, I grinned to myself, hoping against all my better judgment that I’d run into him tonight.
Yeah. That wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.
Chapter Seventeen
Ken
It was just after ten in the morning, and I already knew it was going to be a hot day. Wiping a bead of sweat from my brow, I reached for my water bottle, taking a deep sip from the cool liquid. Around me, coaches, fathers, and other assorted menfolk grunted as we hefted wooden booths into place for the PTA’s big fundraiser, the midway games at the annual carnival.
Every spring, the town’s small fairgrounds transformed one weekend into a loud and festive carnival with rides, games, and food. People brought their jams, preserves, and pies to be judged. It always culminated with one of the high school cheerleaders being crowned Miss Blanco Springs.
When I was a kid, it was the best weekend of the year, hanging out with friends and daring each other to ride whatever we’d decided looked scariest that year.
Now, as an adult, I helped put it together for the next generation of kids and it was still just as fun. The air bustled with the energy of the annual carnival setup, the air buzzing with excitement of the upcoming festivities. The rides had been set up the day before, and out of the corner of my eye I saw themrunning empty as the operators tested the Tilt-A-Whirl and the Ferris wheel.
I glanced around, noticing teachers and parents busily arranging games and setting out prizes for our elementary school’s allotted section of the carnival. Laughter bubbled up in bursts, mingling with snippets of conversation. The scene was alive with the spirit of community—this was the part of living in a small town that I cherished, that kept me here.
“Ken, pass me that hammer,” Coach Dawson from the high school called out, sweat glistening on his forehead.
I handed it over, wiping my hands on my jeans. The camaraderie among everyone made the work lighter, even enjoyable. There was something inspiring about the shared labor, the way everyone pitched in without a second thought.
Just as I straightened up, I spotted Stella wrestling with a cotton candy machine. Her curly hair was pulled back into a ponytail that made her look much younger. A broad smile spread across her face when she saw me. “Kenny! Looking good with those booths!” she yelled, waving energetically.
“Thanks. You doing okay over there?” I called back, my voice carrying over the din of activity.
“Nah, I’ve got it,” she replied, her eyes twinkling as she blew a stray strand of hair from her face. “But thanks for the offer!”
I nodded, returning my focus to the booth in front of me. The fairground carnival was coming to life around us, with the sounds of laughter and chatter echoing through the park.
As we worked, the men started talking in low voices about the recent scandal involving Marc Mendez. My stomach sank, and I wondered how bad this was going to get.
“I don’t like the idea of a man like that around our kids,” one father muttered, shaking his head. “Who knows what he might be capable of?”
My grip tightened on the booth, but I kept my expression neutral. I knew these men, had grown up with some of them, shared beers on Friday nights, and yet, here they were, questioning Marc’s character based on something they read on the internet, or heard other people gossiping about.
“Come on now, he hasn’t done anything wrong, not really,” another man, Thomas, chided. “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. Besides, he’s a hard worker and a good dad. That’s all I care about.”
Bill, one of the PE coaches from my school, laughed. “I tell you what,” he began with a thick drawl, “I’m glad as hell there wasn’t all this social media bullshit when I was a kid, not with all the trouble I got into.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, and I let out a shaky breath. Maybe the town would move past their initial shock. I watched as threads of understanding seemed to weave through their minds.
“Yeah, and let’s be honest, most of y’all are just jealous you don’t have half the looks he does,” joked another man, a hint of mischief in his voice.
