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Ugh, I wish he wasn’t right, but having just dealt with this exact situation with Anna and Kolter, I know he is.

“I’m going to take a voice memo of this moment so that I can play it for you and remind you that you suggested I tell my mother about us, so whatever the future you feels is the present you’s fault and not mine.”

“You’re a nut.” He laughs, and I love the sound of it so much that I’m half tempted to actually record him laughing so that I can play it the next time I need a pick-me-up.

“All right.” I walk to him and lean up on my tiptoes, resting my hands against his chest. “I’ll tell her.”

“Okay, baby.” He leans down and brushes his lips across mine, then lets me go and walks to the closet to take out his bulletproof vest.

I hate seeing him with it on, or more I hate the reminder of why he needs to wear it.

“What’s going on with Romey?” I ask, picking up my earrings from the top of his dresser and putting them in. I know that he has taken Storm out a few times to see if he could pick up her scent in the woods behind my place, but he’s not been able to find a single trace of her. And the people who live next door are an older couple in their sixties, and they both said they had never seen her.

“We’re still looking. I have a couple interviews set up and a few people I’m trying to track down that I’d like to talk to.”

“Do you think her foster fami—”

“No.” He cuts me off before I can finish my question. “Not that I couldn’t be wrong, but they seem like any other parents with a kid missing and are obviously worried about her.” I nod, and he closes the distance between us, grabbing my face and kissing me softly before leaning back to look me in the eye. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” My eyes slide closed when he kisses me a second time. After he lets me go, I grab my purse, and my coat just in case I need it later, then follow him out of the house with Storm right on our heels. “If I don’t get to see you before your speech, good luck today.”

“Thanks, baby.” He opens my door, and I slide into my seat and put on my seat belt. “I’ll see you at the festival.”

“See you there,” I agree, smiling up at him. After he slams my door, I back out of his driveway with him and Storm watching and wave before I put my car in drive.

“Yeah, I’m going to have to tell my parents about us,” I whisper to myself as I press down on the gas.

As I walk through the entrance into the fall festival, the smell of fried foods and sound of people laughing greet me. It’s a beautiful day, the perfect day for an event like this one. As I make my way to my mom’s booth, I’m tempted to visit more than a few of the tents set up along the side of the road that has been closed down for the day. There is everything from homemade jam and bread to pottery decor and handmade jewelry. If I had money to spare, I would absolutely be shopping today, but I don’t, so I’ll have to wait until the Christmas bazaar that the town holds every year to support some of the local artists.

After about ten minutes, I spot my mom and my aunt Margery standing in front of their booth, passing out Vote for Wyatt stickers that are in the shape of a sheriff star. They’re cute, and judging by the number of kids who have gathered around them to get one, they are a hit.

“Hey, honey.” Mom smiles when she sees me. “Put down your stuff, grab some stickers, and come help us,” she orders.

“Has she been bossing you around all day?” I ask Aunt Margery.

“All day.” She laughs, giving me a hug.

I walk into the booth and put down my stuff, then pick up a stack of stickers and put one on my jacket. Then I go out to join my mom and aunt.

“What’s wrong with your neck?” Mom asks, and I touch it. She comes closer to me and pulls my hand away. “It’s red, like you have a rash.”

“Really?” I rub it. “It doesn’t itch.”

“That looks like beard burn,” Aunt Margery says, and my eyes fly to her. “Looks like you have some on your jaw too.”

“Beard burn.” Mom frowns, pulling the glasses she has resting on the top of her head down to the bridge of her nose. “Let me see.” She ducks her head to get a closer look at my neck.

“It’s not beard burn.” I step away from her, and she meets my gaze with her brows dragging together. And just like that I know she knows that I’m lying and that she knows about Wyatt and me without asking one single question.

“Can I hab a sticker?” a little voice asks, and I look down at an adorable little boy with blond hair who must be two or three.

“Of course.” I rip him off three stickers from the roll I’m holding, and he grins before skipping off to his mom, who is waiting a couple feet away with her hand out.

“So nothing is going on with you and Wyatt, huh?” Mom asks quietly from my side, passing stickers to the people walking by.

“I was going to tell you.”

“Sure you were.”