Page 13 of More Than My Hometown

My insides clench, my head spinning in one direction as my thoughts whir in another, giddy little butterflies taking flight in my chest. Ewan followed our plan. There’s a chance that maybe—just maybe—he’s still open to this. To us.

That he could still choose me.

Despite what we said.

“Maisey.”

The deep rumble of Ewan’s voice knocks me from my trance, pulling me back into the moment. At least until my eyes land on him. If I thought he looked good all dressed up in his tux, then I simply wasn’t prepared for everyday Ewan. Dark jeans and tee with The Booby Trap logo—a simple font with bobbers for O’s—that fits him like a glove, clinging to his muscular frame, and a matching ballcap, making him look every inch the outdoorsman he is. It’s nothing fancy—in fact if I were to guess, those jeans probably haven’t been washed in a month—yet it’s more than enough to stop me dead in my tracks and remind me of everything I’ve been missing.

Making me question why I left in the first place. What on earth possessed me to think there was anything outside of this town. Outside of him.

“Hi,” I squeak. “I-I brought lunch.”

Ewan stares at me, eyes flicking down to the Dolly’s bag in my hand then back up to me, but doesn’t respond. At least not verbally. His blue eyes are as expressive as ever, letting me in on exactly how he’s feeling and all the doubt that is flowing through him.

Meaning I will need to kickstart the conversation. Some things never change.

“I grabbed us burgers, but I went with chips instead of fries since I figured those travel better. I had Nico throw some in right before I left too, so they’re fresh.”

“Back for thirty-six hours and already have this town wrapped back around your little finger.” Ewan laughs, shaking his head and turning back to the box of arrows at his feet.

“Hey!” I put the to-go bag on the ground and march over to him, ready to defend myself. Until I see the trademark Hayes smirk on his face, my indignation lifting as I realize he’s teasing me. Doesn’t mean he’s getting off that easy. “Not my fault I’m loved and adored by all. They missed me.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“I will.” I cross my arms, and the move shifts my boobs up, catching Ewan’s eye. Just as quickly, he looks away and I shift again, dropping my arms. That wasn’t what I was trying to do, and I don’t want him to think I’m throwing myself at him. “More than that, when I mentioned to Dolly on Saturday that I was going to stay in town awhile, she asked if I’d be interested in helping at the diner this week while she’s away, so I was already there.”

Ewan stands up straight, nearly knocking over a display of protective eyewear. At his full height, he towers over me by a good six or seven inches, my small stature never more on display than when we’re next to each other.

“You’re not headed back to…” he trails off, like he’s trying to think of what country I was in.

“Nicaragua. And no.” I swallow hard. “That contract ended. So, I’m here for a bit. Which works well, with the wedding and Grandma’s big birthday, and other things…”

“Other things,” he repeats. “You mean our pact.”

“Yeah.” I rock back on my heels. “The ketchup pact.”

“The ketchup pact?”

I giggle, unable to help myself. “That’s what I call it in my head. Since we swore our oath with ketchup, instead of blood.”

“Even then you were a contradiction. There was no containing your spirit, but still concerned about first aid safety.”

Neither of us speaks, his comment hanging in the air like a slowly deflating balloon, wafting in the awkward silence. I know he meant it as a compliment. But that doesn’t help me form a response. And the longer we go, the bigger the silence grows, the more damage I fear it’s going to do.

So I blurt out the first thing I can think of.

“Dolly also volunteered up her old apartment, which was super sweet of her, and works out perfect, because it means I’m not back with Mama and Daddy. Plus⁠—”

“Why are you really back, Maisey?”

“What?”

I stumble, his question catching me so off guard I physically react, sending me in the direction of those arrows. I catch myself, thankfully before I make a mess of both myself and the store. This would not be the place to have an accident.

“Why, Mais?”

“We’re about to be thirty-four, and we’re single, so…” I suck in a breath. “I mean, you are single, right? I mean, Mama and Grandma were all titter-y about it, but Em said you two were just friends and⁠—”