“Right. Because wearing his shirt was just a coincidence.”
I open my mouth. Close it. And then it clicks. “Are the handprintshers?”
Serena’s eyes narrow to points. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know. Dakota still misses him every day, and you’re out here throwing it in her face that the man she called Daddy isn’t waiting for her anymore.”
“Serena,” Tucker says, but the woman shrugs him off.
I. Am. Stunned.
Utterly floored.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Oh, was he raising adifferentlittle girl? Do you really expect anyone to believe you?”
There’s no right answer here. No defense she’ll hear. I’m the monster reminding a kindergartner of her heartache. I catch movement out of the corner of my eye—Serena’s friends. They’re all clustered by the pavilion, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, like they’re a jury issuing a life sentence.
I spot a few people I know from church, too, eyeing me like they should have known I was only here to cause trouble, like they’ve been waiting all along for the moment when I’d mess things up for this town.
Even the pastor shakes his head, a disappointed look on his face.
The burn in my throat is so much more than shame. It’s humiliation. And it flares hot and sharp as acid. Just like that, I’m the outsider again. The woman too selfish and clueless to see how a T-shirt could break a little girl’s heart. The woman who’s being attacked over a misunderstanding, and no one cares. They’re too busy standing and judging me. Agreeing that I deserve this public flogging. Agreeing that I don’t belong here. That I never will.
Miss Eunice approaches, and I brace myself for her to whisper that maybe it’s time for me to leave, bless my heart.
She puts a hand on my forearm.
“If your daughter still misses Sean, she should blame her parents,” she tells Serena in a tone of devastating politeness. “Sean and Kayla didn’t make you two sneak around. You strung that man around for years through no fault of his own. And Kayla’s only fault is that she’s an outsider. She has been ablessing to this town. If you can’t see that, cast the beam out of your own eye. Bless your heart.”
Serena blinks. For once, speechless.
Loretta sidles in on my other side. “And stop throwing Sean in Dakota’s face, dear, and be a better mother. You and Tucker chose each other, so leave Kayla out of it. The girl shows up for others. Maybe you ought to try it.”
A slow, shocked silence settles around us.
Serena’s jaw works like she’s chewing gravel. She doesn’t respond—just turns on her heel, clutching Dakota. But as she walks away, she glances back at me—cold and composed in a way that makes the hairs on my arms lift. Like she’s already planning her next move.
Tucker, meanwhile, doesn’t even look at us. He just trails after them like he’s trying not to be noticed.
When they’re gone, air escapes my lungs like I’ve been holding it hostage.
And as Loretta and Eunice turn back to their cleanup like nothing happened, I stay motionless, blinking in the sun, heart pounding.
“Don’t stand there with your mouth open,” Loretta says. “You’ll let in the flies.”
Eunice pats my back. “Come on, dear. Let’s get back to work.”
I nod, still stunned. But steadier, too. I may never be universally loved, but if this is what belonging feels like—throat tight, eyes burning, arms aching to hug these two dear women—I’ll hold onto it with both hands.
I smile and nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
SEAN
I’m changing into my training camp warmups—compression top, practice jersey, and team-issued shorts—next to the only other guy at eval camp over twenty-two.
He’s 24.
