Page 45

“Fulton?” Her voice sounded almost musical. “You good?”

I blinked a few times. Childhood Eliza vanished, and grown-up Eliza still holding the frame materialized in front of me.

Did she ever think back to the same memories I did?

“Sorry,” I said. “I was thinking about the time you got that scar.”

A guy I didn’t know stepped out from the shadows. “I haven’t heard that story, E.” He looked like he came straight from a country club or golf course—polo tucked into khaki shorts above the knee, white, unstained shoes. “Maybe you should tell me sometime.”

Maybe you should go find a sand trap.

Eliza nodded to Mr. Preppy. “Reed, this is Chad Dupont. He moved here a year after your family left. Chad, this is Reed Fulton.”

Dupont? As in the mayor?

Chad stopped short. “The same Fultons who own the run-down farm off Birch?”

Heat flashed at the base of my neck. “Our farm—”

“The Fultons’ farm is one of the biggest in the tri-county area, actually.” Eliza stood up straighter, taking on more of the set piece’s weight. “And how many times did your nana’s 4H club have one of those Diamond— What’s it called, Reed?”

“Diamond Clover Award,” I said. The heat cooled a bit. “She had a kid win it three years in a row.”

“Fascinating.” Chad took out his phone and swiped a few times, looking bored. “Anyway, Eliza, your dad sent me to tell you not to be late for dinner.”

She scoffed. “Why couldn’t he just tell me himself?”

Chad shrugged. “He said you weren’t answering your phone.”

“Yeah, well, I’m working today. I’ll be home when I’m done.”

Shots fired. I looked down so neither of them could see my smirk.

“Relax, Princess. I’m just the messenger.”

Call her Princess like that one more time. I dare you.

Chad started turning around and then added to me, “Good luck this season, Fulton. You’ll need it.”

Not as badly as you need bigger shorts, asshole.

Eliza shook her head as he walked away, making a call on his phone. “I cannot believe I dated him for five months. Worst decision of my life.”

Clearly. “Bet he drives a Beemer.”

She laughed, and something warm and unfamiliar stretched across the inside of my chest. Eliza Crowley had defended me.

Where had that come from?

Thatcher’s hand appeared out of nowhere and clasped my shoulder. “Found it!” He held up the different drill bit and looked at Eliza with surprise. “Needed a break from the booth today, Ms. Crowley?”

She let go of the frame as Thatcher took it back and helped me lower it to the ground. “Actually, I came down to meet with our director and a couple lighting technicians, Mr. Newcomb.” Her eyes moved around us both. “And I think they just got here, so I’ll see you around.”

Eliza walked toward the front of the stage and shook hands with two older guys in matching dress shirts as a tall woman with a peacock-colored scarf and bright framed glasses joined them. Eliza’s gaze moved back to mine, and that unfamiliar warmth returned.

“Theater brings out some interesting characters, eh, Reed?” Thatcher commented.

“Yeah.” I broke eye contact before the heat moved to my face. “It does.”