Page 146 of Tessa and Nash

Boone leans back against the counter, arms crossing. “You two have been weird lately.”

I stare at him. “We’re always weird.”

Boone’s mouth twitches. “Not like this.”

Rose’s voice is gentle, but her eyes are curious. “Is everything okay with you two?”

There it is.

The question the whole town’s been asking in different words for weeks.

Is there trouble in paradise?

“Everything’s fine.”

Faith gives me a look. “That’s what people say right before they break up.”

“We’re not breaking up,” I snap, then immediately regret it because the edge in my voice makes everyone go quiet again.

Dallas’s gaze shifts, subtle but sharp. “You’re not fighting, are you?”

“No,” I say quickly. “We’re not fighting.”

Which is a lie.

We’re not fighting in the way Boone thinks. Over jealousy or commitment or whatever love drama small towns feast on. We’re fighting the kind of fight you don’t realize you’re in until your whole world is lined up on opposite sides of a creek.

Boone studies me, trying to read something written between my ribs.

“You sure?” he says quietly. “Because you’ve been walking around like you’re carrying a dead calf.”

“That’s disgusting,” Faith mutters.

“It’s accurate,” Boone replies.

Dallas steps in. “Nash. If something’s going on…”

I almost say it.

About Juniper House. The journal. The signature. The crack in the land story. The town council stalling my project. The way Hank Lawson is circling as a vulture and Thomas Long is sharpening his knives behind the scenes.

And I almost tell them about Tessa.

About how she’s not my fiancée, not really. About how all of it is fake, aside from what’s going on inside me. About how I can’t stop thinking about her mouth and her hands and the way she looked at me when the storm broke, holding something fragile inside herself and trying not to drop it.

I almost tell them I love her.

The word sits behind my teeth, aching.

But then I see Boone’s face if I say it.

The way he’ll go still. The way his protective instinct will kick in. The way he’ll decide this becomes family business, and suddenly I won’t have any control over the one thing I’ve been trying to prove I can handle.

I swallow hard.

“Nothing’s going on,” I say, forcing a grin. “I’m just tired.”

Mom’s gaze narrows. She doesn’t believe me.