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I picked at the sandwich, appetite gone. “What if it’s not fixable? What if I just proved I haven’t changed at all?”

“The fact you’re sitting here beating yourself up proves you have.” Mickey’s voice came out gentle but firm. “The Andre from high school wouldn’t have recognized he’d done anything wrong.”

My phone buzzed, and my heart leaped.

I pulled it cautiously from my pocket.

Ethan: I’ll be at the amphitheater at 5:30 to host the concert.

The formal tone was another gut punch. No emojis. No warmth. Just facts.

“He’s still showing up to host.” I showed Mickey the message. “That’s something, right?”

“It’s very Ethan. He won’t let others down, even when he’s hurting.” He gave me a pointed look. “Which means you have a chance to see him and talk. Don’t waste it.”

“I won’t. I can’t lose him. Not when I’m falling in love with him.” Taking a bite from the sandwich, I let it sink in that I’d just said that out loud for the first time.

Mickey’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s new. Have you told him that?”

“No. And now definitely isn’t the time.” I sighed. “I gotta fix it first.”

Mickey and I talked intermittently as he worked the register and waited on customers. Sometimes people chatted with me about how wonderful the weekend had been. Just like the LAoA email, though, the accolades couldn’t permeate the sadness.

By the time I headed to the amphitheater, I still lacked any brilliant ideas on how to make sure he’d talk to me.

Ethan arrived exactly at 5:30.

He looked incredible in dark jeans and a Maplewood Bears Pride shirt that made his eyes pop. He smiled as he talked to Brent, the stage manager. But when he spotted me, he turned polite and distant.

After giving him some time with Brent, I approached. My patience had run out.

“I’m sorry to interrupt. Ethan, can we talk?” I asked softly. “Please?”

He hesitated then nodded. We moved to a quiet corner away from the preparation bustle.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out. “This morning I was out of line. I fell into old patterns and that’s inexcusable.”

Ethan’s expression remained neutral. “You’re right. It’s not excusable.”

“Kirk told me what happened.” My voice broke. “I should have trusted that you were doing something important.”

“You didn’t even ask.” His quiet voice carried hurt. “You just assumed. Just like in high school.”

The controlled pain in his voice made me ache. “I hate I made you feel that way.”

Ethan ran a hand through his hair, gathering his thoughts. A few locks fell across his forehead, and I wanted to push them back into place.

“I can’t do this right now. I have a show to host, and it can’t start late.”

Ouch.

“I understand.” I longed to reach for him, but I held back. “Maybe after? Before you meet up with your friends?”

He was celebrating the end of the festival at Red’s with the people he’d brought to town. I imagined he had removed me from his guest list.

“I don’t know.” He straightened his shoulders.

The words deflated me. “Well, I’ll be around.”