Page 111 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

The thought hit me with startling clarity. When things went wrong, I wanted him. When the festival planning got overwhelming or when problems arose that I couldn’t solve on my own, my automatic response had become seeking out Cooper. He would wrap his strong arms around me and tell me everything was going to be okay. Somehow that would make it true. Just him standing nearby settled me.

But I hesitated, and I hated that I hesitated.

Three days ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about finding Cooper and letting him help me handle whatever crisis had emerged. A week ago, everything between us had felt solid and sure and like something I could depend on.

Now everything felt up in the air. Now I didn’t know if seeking comfort from him was fair to either of us, given all the uncertainty and unresolved questions hanging between us.

“I need a minute,” I announced to no one in particular, handing Gertrude’s lead rope to a surprised volunteer and stepping carefully around the donkey poop with my one clean boot.

I made a beeline for the storage tent I’d been using as a base of operations, desperate for a moment of privacy before I completely fell apart in front of half the town. The tent was tucked behind the main market area, far enough from the crowds that I might actually be able to have a quiet breakdown without becoming part of the evening’s entertainment.

I ducked inside and immediately sank onto one of the folding chairs. The tears came without warning, hot, frustrated tears that had been building up for days and finally found their release.

I was exhausted. Emotionally and physically drained from weeks of festival planning, from Lynn’s psychological warfare, and from trying to navigate my feelings for Cooper while maintaining professional boundaries. Everything I’d been holding together was coming apart at once, and I didn’t know how to put it back together.

“Joy?” Aunt Victoria’s voice came from the tent entrance, gentle and concerned. “Honey, are you in here?”

I wiped my face hastily, trying to compose myself. “Yes.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine. Just taking a quick break.”

My aunt pushed through the tent flap and immediately saw through my attempted cover-up. Her expression softened with understanding.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, moving to sit in the chair beside mine. “It’s okay to take a moment. It’s okay to not be okay right now.”

The kindness in her voice undid what little composure I’d managed to rebuild. The tears started again, and this time I didn’t try to stop them.

“I don’t know if I belong here,” I admitted between sobs. “In Calton Hill, with Cooper, any of it. I thought I was figuring things out, but now I’m more confused than ever. I don’t know if I can do this job. It’s not really something I have any experience with. I think I bit off more than I can chew.”

She reached over and rubbed my back in the same soothing circles she’d used when I was younger and dealing with grief or high school drama. “What’s got you so turned around?” she asked gently. “The festival is a huge success.”

“Lynn came to see me yesterday. She told me I was just a rebound, that Cooper would always love her more than he could love me. And maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m just a convenient distraction while he gets over the woman he really wanted to marry.”

“Lynn’s opinion is as useful as a fart in a windstorm. What did Cooper say about all this?”

“We haven’t talked about it yet.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Joy. Why not?”

“Because I’m just trying to survive the night market right now. We’re supposed to talk tonight, but I’m terrified of what he might say. What if he realizes he’s not ready for anything serious yet? What if he needs more time to heal from what she did to him?”

My aunt was quiet for a moment. “If the man needs time, give him time. Real love doesn’t need to rush.”

“I’m terrified of breaking his heart again,” I continued, the words pouring out like water through a broken dam. “I did it once before, in high school, when I left without looking back. I can’t do that to him again. But I also don’t know if I’m back in town for good.”

“Oh, kiddo,” she said softly. “It sounds like you’re not sure what you want either.”

“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered. “I don’t want to hurt him. He’s been through enough.”

“Don’t let fear keep you from happiness,” she said finally. “Either choose him fully—with all the risks and uncertainty that comes with loving someone—or let him go so you can both move forward. But don’t hide in this middle ground where neither of you knows where you stand. That’s not fair to either of you.”

Her words were exactly what I needed to hear.

“You’re right,” I said, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “I’ve been hiding. From the conversation we need to have, from the decisions I need to make, from everything that feels too scary to face head on.”

“It’s understandable,” she said gently. “Love is terrifying, especially when you’ve been hurt before or when you’re afraid of hurting someone you care about. But hiding doesn’t make those fears go away. It just makes them grow bigger.”