Page 44 of Wild Thorns

“Speaking from experience?”

“Speaking from a lifetime of finding hiding spots at mandatory social events.” A small smile. “The Thornwood family is expected to be visible at these things. That doesn’t mean we have to be visible every moment.”

“Is that an invitation to hide together?”

His eyes had met mine, and something had flickered in them, surprise, maybe, or something warmer. “Sure, why not.”

I was playing with fire. I knew it, but I couldn’t seem to stop.

Callum had said nothing about the festival, and don’t you know that just drove me crazy. Disappointed, that’s what I felt. Shame on me. And yet, every time I caught his eye, there was that look, that barely leashed intensity that made me feel wanted and protected in equal measure. Like he was always aware of where I was, what I was doing, and whether I was safe. Like watching over me was as natural as breathing.

You’ve gone completely bonkers, Serena. My thoughts jeered at me, but then…

“He’s not much for words,” Jasper had explained once. “Never has been. But he says more with a look than most people say in a whole conversation.”

“What’s he saying when he looks at me?”

Jasper had gone quiet for a moment. Uncharacteristically serious. “He’s saying you matter,” he’d said finally. “That’s not a small thing, coming from Callum.”

I stood on my porch in the evening light, watching the magnolia tree sway in the breeze, and I made a choice.

I was done being invisible.

Whatever this was, this connection, this pull toward three men who were making me psycho and clearly keeping secrets, I was going to see it through. I was going to stop running, stop hiding, stop pretending I was just passing through.

The old Serena would have been terrified. Would have seen the warning signs: the secrets, the intensity, the way everyone in this town seemed to know something she didn’t, and run in the opposite direction. Self-preservation. Safety first. Don’t get attached to people who can hurt you, but I was tired of the old Serena. Tired of living in fear, of building walls, of keeping everyone at arm’s length because Marcus had taught me that closeness was dangerous.

Maybe it was. Maybe these men would break my heart in ways I couldn’t imagine. Maybe the secrets they were keeping would change everything, make me regret ever knocking on that first door.

Or maybe not.

Maybe the risk was worth it. Maybe being known, really known, fully seen, was worth the possibility of pain. Maybe I’d spent so long protecting myself that I’d forgotten what I was protecting myself for.

I wanted to laugh with Jasper until my stomach hurt. I wanted to sit in comfortable silence with Eli and feel understood without words. I wanted Callum to look at me like I was the only thing in the world worth seeing, and I wanted to believe it was all true.

I wanted to belong somewhere. To someone. To them. To this family.

Chapter thirteen

A Crown of Cypress

"So here's the thing about the Founder's Festival," Jasper said, appearing at my door for what was becoming our morning ritual. "It's technically a celebration of the town's founding. But really, it's an excuse for everyone to eat too much, drink too much, and pretend we're all one big happy family."

He was leaning against my doorframe in a way that highlighted the breadth of his shoulders, his dark curls catching the morning light. Today's shirt was forest green, the color bringing out the warmth in his eyes, and it fit him in a way that suggested he'd had it tailored or had simply won some kind of genetic lottery.

"That sounds exhausting," I said.

"That's because you haven't tried Mrs. Henderson's jambalaya yet." He grinned. "Trust me. It's worth the social effort."

"Is that the highlight of the agenda?"

"No set agenda, I want you to experience a Magnolia Creek tradition with an expert guide." He straightened, his expression softening. "I also want you to have a good day. You've seemed tense lately. This might help."

He didn't mention the text messages. The conversation we'd had about Marcus. But I saw the awareness in his eyes, the way he was trying to give me something normal, something joyful, to hold onto.

"Fine," I said. "But you're buying me whatever food you promise."

"Deal." His grin returned, brighter than before. "I'll pick you up at three."