Blake thinks he can keep this professional.
It’s clear to me, he’s already lost.
The rest of the crew disperses, giving Ryan and me space. We’re finally alone in the middle of the festival chaos.
“I was wrong.” The words burst out before I can stop them. “About needing space. About handling everything alone. About—” My voice cracks. “About walking away from you.”
His hand comes up to cup my face. “Ember?—”
“Let me finish. Please.” Tears are threatening to fall, but I don’t care. “These three days without you have been hell. I missed you so much it physically hurt. And I kept telling myself it was for the best, that I needed to prove I could do this alone?—”
“You can do it alone,” Ryan interrupts gently. “You proved that. You faced down Marcus without my help. You created this incredible event. You’re the strongest person I know.”
“Then why does it feel better when you’re beside me?” I whisper.
His thumb brushes away my tears. “Because being strong doesn’t mean being alone. It means knowing when to let people in. And you have people here.”
“I want to let you in. I want—” I take a shaky breath. “I see a life here, Ryan. A real one. A new business, this community, and you. Especially you.”
“Yeah?” His voice is rough with emotion.
“Yeah. And I know it’s fast, and maybe I’m crazy, but?—”
He kisses me.
Right there in the middle of my festival, with half the town watching, Ryan McCallister kisses me like I’m his air.
When we break apart, I’m breathless and grinning.
“Does this mean you forgive me for being an idiot?” I ask.
“Only if you forgive me for trying to fix everything.”
“Deal.”
Someone wolf-whistles—probably Romeo—and we both laugh.
“Come on,” Ryan says, taking my hand. “We’ve got a fundraiser to run.”
“Together?”
“Always together, Firecracker.”
And for the first time in days, I can breathe again.
Epilogue: The Fishing Line
Ryan
Three Months Later
Ember and I sit on the dock at the pond as evening sun wraps around us like a cozy blanket.
She’s been tossing bits of bread to the ducks, making those soft cooing sounds that make me smile. Each time she does, the corners of my mouth lift, and I can’t help but feel a warm glow inside. The ducks quack, creating small ripples that dance across the pond’s surface.
“You’re spoiling them,” I tease, watching her break off another piece of bread for the ducks.
“Says the man who keeps extra crackers in his tackle box for them,” she retorts, bumping her shoulder against mine with a playful grin that makes my heart skip a beat.
