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Not here. Not now.

Turning, I staggered toward a stall selling waffles and doughnuts. The smell was delicious and distracting, reminiscent of my favorite neighborhood ghost.

Tristan.

I took a deep, cleansing breath while I wondered where he was and what spooky things he might be doing.

“Are you English or Irish?” a man with a French accent asked as his gaze traveled down my body. With his blond curly hair and laughing, blue eyes, he didn’t hide that he approved of what he saw.

“Is it that obvious?” I asked.

“Your hair,” he said, and he gently pulled at a stray strand. “It’s beautiful, like all of you,” he murmured.

Why does he think he can touch my hair?

Grimacing with displeasure, I flicked my head back, freeing my hair from his hand.

“You think I am making you a line?” he asked, his eyes widening with surprise.

What?

“Are you staying in the village?” he continued.

“No, but I’m nearby,” I said.

“My name is Etienne. What is your name?”

“Her name is none of your business,” Dylan growled as he draped his arm around my shoulders. Lulu stood on his other side glaring at Etienne, who stared at Lulu and me.

“Two beautiful women, you’re a very lucky man,” he said, then turned away and melted into the crowd under Dylan’s disapproving, narrowed eyes.

“I think it’s time we left,” he muttered.

“She’s a very attractive girl, Dyl. You’ll have to get used to chasing away the men,” Lulu said.

Attractive… Me?

“He was older than me,” Dylan grumbled.

“Ancient,” I said.

Dylan scowled at me, but his mouth was pursed with suppressed humor.

“I want to see the fireworks, Dyl,” Lulu said with a pout.

“Okay,” he said and took her hand. With his arm still wrapped around my shoulders, we walked through the carnival stalls in the direction of the river. The path was lit in places by twinkling fairy lights, and we followed the steady stream of locals and tourists into a large field beside the river.

Under the stars the field was shadowy, lit only by the flashes of light from torches at the perimeter and people waving their mobile phones. Beneath our feet, the grass crunched and the pungent smell of thyme and mint drifted into the air. We stood in silence as the crowd gathered around us and waited with anticipation. The adults were laughing and joking but talking in hushed tones, while their children either clung to them or played, shrieking and running through the crowd.

“I hope this is worth the wait,” Dylan said as he released me. He glanced at his watch. “It’s just after midnight,” he continued with disapproval. “The fireworks are supposed to start at twelve.”

Suddenly, a volley of flashing lights lit the sky above us, and a nanosecond later, the sound assaulted us.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Over and over. A booming explosion. Each bright light raining down on us and glittering for a moment in time.

Bang. Bang.

The sound catapulted me back to the crash.