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“Just because I’m a Fulton?” Granddad had a legit reason for not trusting her family. What was Mr. Crowley’s excuse? What did we ever do to them?

“Yep.”

Something sharp pressed against the inside of my throat. “But it’s just my name. What’s the real reason you guys hate us?”

“ ‘Us’?”

Nana told me once that Viola Gratton spread some nasty lies about Charlie Fulton back in the day, but a Fulton would never do the shit that that horrible woman said he’d done. Would Eliza’s dad really believe those kinds of stories? That I was the same fruit from the same poisoned family tree?

Or worse: Would Eliza?

The bright reflection from her Rolex caught my eye, and Ben’s words swirled back into my head. Dude, watches like hers cost close to twenty grand.

My wrist prickled with sweat underneath my dingy watch when another possibility settled into my gut.

Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with the past after all?

“Hold on a sec.” She turned in her seat to face me. “Are you seriously saying your grandparents wouldn’t flip out if they saw us together?” she asked.

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“How?”

I turned my hat forward. “Because mine have a reason to be mad at yours. The stadium was theirs—”

“Reed, that was ages ago.” She turned her face toward her window.

“Doesn’t feel that way to them,” I mumbled.

She crossed her arms and sighed. I thought about bringing up the fact that she still hadn’t given me a real answer about why her dad would flip out over me being with her. Saying it was because of my name was an easy excuse. My name shouldn’t have anything to do with it.

We drove on for a couple of miles in silence before thunder rumbled. Dark clouds filled the sky ahead of us.

I cleared my throat. “Should I just take us back to Fairfield?”

She started fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt. “Do you want to go back?”

My cell buzzed from inside my pocket. I let it go to voicemail. It was probably just Nana asking me to pick something up on my way home, but I was thankful for the brief distraction. I knew the answer to Eliza’s question.

But I wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted me to say.

Did she want to go back? Is that why she asked? After a long, quiet minute, I reached across the seat and took her hand. “No. I don’t want to go back.”

“Me either.” She smiled and then faced forward again. “Take a right where you see that turnoff up ahead. I wanna show you something.”

I did as she said and wound around a few turns until the road dead-ended at some kind of clearing lined with tall trees. The sky over us was dark with the promise of a storm.

Eliza opened the door and jumped down. “Follow me.” She began running through the tall grass toward a large stage with an awning at the edge of the property.

I got out and followed as heavy raindrops started to fall. The clearing was ringed by large stones and angled down toward the stage in a horseshoe shape. Lightning flashed as I reached the stage where Eliza stood.

“What is this place?” I asked, shaking the rain out of my hair.

“The Clairview Amphitheater.” She spun around one of the beams holding up the awning over us. “It hosts a ren faire every year in the fall and a few other events in the spring. My grandmother used to perform here back in the day.”

Rain fell steadily now, but under the awning, we were kept dry except for the passing breeze that blew some of the rain sideways.

“It’s pretty cool.” I ran my hands over the pillar closest to me and breathed in the familiar scent of cedar. Tall trees outlined the outdoor theater but not close enough to block out natural light to the stage. Being here felt like I had stepped back in time. “Do you miss her a lot?”