I incline my head politely. “Hello, sir.”
Levi’s mother’s eyes crinkle with warmth as she takes me in. “You’ve been busy, Doctor. We’ve heard about the flu making its way through town.”
I nod. “Yes. It’s been keeping the hospital full. We’re managing, though. Mostly mild cases, just dehydration and fevers. Nothing we can’t handle.”
Her gaze drifts toward the competition tent where Wren bends to check her oven, her hair slipping from its tie, cheeks flushed pink. She tilts her head just slightly, then back at me, her lips pressing together like she’s holding back words she isn’t sure she should speak.
Finally, she says softly, “It’s a blessing when someone has people who look at them like that. Just make sure you boys stay healthy. We don’t want to go on breaking that poor girl’s heart.”
The statement lands with the weight of something knowing.
My throat tightens, but before I can respond, she pats her husband’s arm. “Let’s get ourselves an ale and walk the square.”
They excuse themselves, leaving the three of us in their wake.
Levi exhales, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that.”
I blink.
He gives me a flat look. “About Wren. About us.”
Beau whistles low, leaning back on his heels. “Damn. How? I just bet it’s Willa. That woman loves her gossip.”
“I don’t think.” Levi’s voice is firm. “But she’s not wrong, isn’t she?”
I glance back at Wren. She’s pulling her pie from the oven now, setting it on the counter with careful hands. Every move she makes is a prayer, a vow, like she’s putting her entire soul into that dish.
She’s perfection.
Beau crosses his arms. “Maybe it’s time, then.”
“Time for what?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“To tell her,” Levi says. His tone is heavy. “That we don’t just want this to be some… heat thing. That we want her. Permanently.”
My stomach clenches.
Levi doesn’t stop. “I told her that I love her… and she said it back.”
Beau freezes. My head jerks around. “She what?”
Levi’s lips curve, soft but certain. “We said it. This morning. Before the festival.”
For a beat, none of us speaks. It hangs there, charged and electric, bigger than anything we’ve admitted out loud.
Beau mutters a curse, dragging a hand over his mouth. “Well, hell. Guess that means we need to figure out where we stand, doesn’t it?”
Before I can answer, the voice of Miss Thea floats over the din. “Dr. Hale.”
I turn, startled.
The town’s apothecary stands at her booth just across the square, her arms laden with jars and sachets, the bright scarves on her head fluttering in the breeze. Her eyes are kind, but sharp, like she sees straight through me.
“I’d like a word, if you have a moment,” she says.
I hesitate, but Beau nudges me. “Go on, Doc. I’ve got Levi.”
I stride over, weaving through the festival crowd until I’m at her booth. Dried herbs hang in bunches from the canopy, glass bottles catching the afternoon light. The air is thick with the scent of peppermint, lavender, and something sharper I can’t place.
