Page 17 of Surrendering to the Grump

She didn't slam the door. She didn't yell. She asked me for something and I said no. Again. And the way she left, calm and busy, already pulling up her texts, already moving on to the next thing that needs her, is worse than any door slam.

Because she expected it. She asked knowing I'd say no because that's what people do to Kennedy Brooks. They take what she gives and then they leave her to handle the rest alone.

My phone buzzes.

Kennedy:

I think we should take a step back. Last night was amazing but I can't keep walking toward someone who won't meet me halfway. I deserve someone who'll walk through a stupid festival with me. I'm worth that.

She's right. She's absolutely right.

And I just let her drive away.

CHAPTER SIX

KENNEDY

Saturday is the longest day of my life.

Not because the festival is hard. The festival is flawless. Corn maze running smooth. Axe throwing packed. The bluegrass trio brought a fiddle player for the afternoon set. Pistachio Sweets sold out of apple cider donuts by two. The hot cocoa stand has a line down Moss Street.

It's flawless because I made it flawless. Because Kennedy Brooks doesn't let things fall apart. Not festivals. Not classrooms. Not herself.

By three o'clock I've covered the craft booth, directed parking for sixty cars that are not in Rhett's lot because I texted Lisa to reroute overflow to the church, helped Hank stack firewood for the bonfire, checked in on every vendor, answered fourteen texts, and smiled at approximately every single person in Maple Lane Falls.

Nobody asks if I'm okay. Why would they? I look fine.

At five, Lina catches me behind the café refilling napkin dispensers.

"Kennedy."

"Almost done."

"Kennedy." She takes the napkins out of my hands. "Sit down."

"I can't sit down, the bonfire setup starts at five thirty and Hank needs..."

"Hank has Dolly. Dolly has Hank. Neither of them needs you right now." Lina pulls out a chair at my usual table. "Sit."

My legs fold. Once I'm in the chair, the exhaustion hits so fast my hands shake. Lina sets a coffee in front of me. Two sugars, splash of oat milk.

"Where's your car?"

"At his shop." My voice cracks on the word. "I'll get it later."

Lina sits across from me. Doesn't push. Doesn't ask. Just sits.

"He's a good man," I finally say. "He's kind and he's generous and he makes beautiful things with his hands and he saved me a burger because I forget to eat. He told me about his brother. He let me into his cabin. He looked at me this morning and I swear he was seeing me."

Lina waits.

"And then I asked him to walk through the festival with me and he said that's not what he does." My coffee blurs. "I know what that means. My daddy used to say things were real too. Right up until real meant showing up somewhere public. Right up until real meant telling someone he had a daughter."

"Rhett isn't your father."

"I know." A tear hits the table. I wipe my cheek with the heel of my hand. "But I can't be someone's secret, Lina. I spent my whole life being the person who holds things together behind the scenes. The one nobody thanks because they don't even know I'm doing it. I can't love a man who only wants me when the door is closed."

Lina reaches across the table. Squeezes my hand. "Then don't."