The roaring in my ears grows a few decibels, and it takes a lot more effort to look composed, but I manage to fix a smile on my face and add, “That’s nice.”
Ginny tilts her head. “Is it?” She pauses. “Is itnice? Or does it complicate some things?”
I bite my tongue, choosing politeness like always.
“I don’t know why it’d complicate things.” I shove my books toward Ginny’s elbows, forcing her to back up.
She stands and starts scanning the books reluctantly. “So you’d be okay if I asked him out? As far as I can tell, he’s single and he looks amazing.”
Her gaze warms through my thin skin, but I won’t give Ginny the satisfaction of the reaction she’s looking for. I blink, trying to erase the instant image of bright blond hair, blue eyes, and an easy grin.
Milo Carter isn’t just some guy.
He’s practically Dusty Hollow royalty.
In high school every girl moved a little differently and giggled an octave higher when he was around. Every guy wanted to either be him or be his best friend. Every single person who lived in Dusty Hollow smiled as soon as they saw him, slapping him onthe back, giving him a high five, or tipping their hat while they told him, “Good game last Friday.”
And he was mine.
Until he was offered a full-ride scholarship to Notre Dame, and he would have been an absolute fool not to take it.
I swallow down the memory of him leaving and focus on the smile still plastered on my face. “You can sure ask him.”
“Interesting,” she mutters as she scansThe Bodyguard.
“Nothing is interesting,” I say too quickly, covering up my faux pas with a laugh. “Not everything has to include drama, Ginny.”
She matches my laugh, her blonde curls bouncing. “Sadie, when are you going to learn? Living here in Dusty Hollow, drama is theonlything that makes it interesting.”
I pick up my stack of books. “These make it interesting.”
She points at the stories that have stitched themselves into my very essence. “Those aren’t real.”
Her words are like daggers to my soul, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I stretch out my smile even farther. “Have a great weekend, Ginny.”
She returns my smile, but it’s not a “have a great weekend” smile. It’s something different, as if Genevieve Johnson is disappointed, which really shouldn’t bother me at all. I don’t want to be like Ginny, and yet something swirls in my stomach that feels like bile and cement.
“Enjoy your books,” she mutters, already back to scrolling on her phone.
I back away from the counter, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat, open the glass door with my bum, and spin around to let the humid heat of Dusty Hollow swallow me whole. My skin instantly swelters and soaks through my yellow sundress.
I take a deep breath, inhaling the sun and hoping it’ll spark something within me.
I walk past pale pink petunias dangling from flowerpots outside the coffee shop and chalk drawingsoutside the café, heading toward the bank to check off my last item on my to-do list.
“Sadie!”
I turn to see Mr. Waters waving at me from across the street.
I fix a smile back on my face, and after looking both ways, walk toward him.
“Hi, Mr. Waters,” I reply.
“I wish you’d call me Matt.” He laughs, his freckled face folding gently into wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. “You make me feel old.”
Mr. Waters owns Waters Grocery & Feed and wears one of those adorable old-fashioned aprons. He’s only eleven years older than me, but it’s old enough that he was an adult while I was still a kid, and calling him by his first name seems inappropriate.
I shrug. “Sorry,Mr. Waters, but my brain is trained to think of you as an elder.”
