“There’s Miss Tee!“ Molly waves, and sure enough, Mom is making her way through the crowd with her phone out, that gleam in her eye that means she’s in content-creation mode.
“Oh, Christ,” Cash mutters under his breath. “Here we go.”
“Boys!” she calls out. “Come on, let’s get a quick video—summer bonfire vibes, wholesome family fun. Rhett, put your arm around Molly properly. Cash, stop slouching and try to look like you weren’t just talking about something inappropriate.”
Cash shoots me a look that saysbusted, and I bite back a laugh.
I do as I’m told, pulling Molly closer. She melts into me, all soft curves and easy affection, and I feel my body lock up like a rusted gate. Every muscle goes rigid—my jaw clenches, and my hand sits stiff and awkward on her waist.
All the while, Mom’s recording, talking about Thornwood family traditions, summer in Cedarbrook, and how grateful we are to have this community.
“Perfect!” Mom chirps when she’s done, already reviewing the footage. “Molly, sweetheart, you look beautiful. Rhett, try to look like you’re enjoying yourself. And, Cash, fix your hat, you look like a delinquent.”
“Iama delinquent,” Cash says, but he adjusts his hat anyway. We all dance to Mom’s tune … eventually.
Suddenly, there’s a commotion near the beer coolers—some sort of loud laughter. All of us turn to look, and my stomach drops.
Colton Dawson.
He’s leaning against someone’s truck, all dark curls and ink-covered arms, a beer dangling from his fingers like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s laughing at something one of the guys said and the sound of it cuts straight through the noise of the party like it always has. Ever since high school, he’s never worried about being too loud.
He came out during freshman year of high school. It’s a small town—didn’t take much for the news to spread quickly. And when it did, people judged, talked, twisted their nose up at it. But Colt never flinched. He just kept showing up, exactly as he was, until, eventually, the town ran out of things to say about it. Until it just became a part of who he was, the same way the ranch was part of who I was.
Most people made their peace with it, and I never understood the ones who didn’t. What was spreading shit about it ever going to accomplish? Bully a man into the closet? Hope he changed his mind? I never understood the friends who wanted to belittle him for it.
But I wanted nothing to do with him, either. Even with my mother and his aunt as close as they were. After he came out, I kept my distance, told myself it was easier that way. Told myself it had nothing to do with me.
I got real good at telling myself things back then.
I look away before he can catch me staring.
“Is that Colton Dawson?” Molly asks, following my gaze. Her voice has that careful curiosity that means she’s heard stories, even though she was probably a sophomore when we were seniors. “I heard he was back in town.”
“Yeah.” Cash takes another drink. “Played pool with him last night. Dude’s still a smartass, but he’s alright. He’s working at the ranch this summer.”
The beer turns to ash in my mouth. “What?”
Cash shrugs. “Mom set it up with Aunt Aria. Some vet tech experience thing for his degree or whatever. Thought you knew.”
I didn’t know. Nobody told me.
“You two have history, don’t you?” Molly asks carefully.
“Ancient history. Not worth talking about,” I mutter, taking another drink.
He’s dressed in a tight black T-shirt and jeans with rips at the knees and a chain around his neck. He turns then, like he can feel me staring at him, and our eyes lock across the fire.
Fuck.
He pushes off the truck and starts walking toward us.
“Rhett Thornwood,” he drawls when he’s close enough. His voice is rough, like gravel and smoke, and it does something to the air between us. Makes it feel heavier—harder to breathe.
I force my face into neutrality. “Colton.”
“Colt,” he corrects as his eyes flick to Molly, dragging over her with casual assessment before returning to me. “Who’s the lucky lady?”
Molly extends her hand. “Molly Whitmore. Nice to meet you.”
