She said it so simply, like it was inevitable, so I just nodded. I realized I was in deep with Nate the night after the emergency room visit when we lay wrapped in each other’s arms. Probably even before that.

We’d seen one another several days since then in much the same way, and each time my phone buzzed with a message from him, my heart ballooned unbearably.

“There’s no way he won’t guess something’s up once he’s seen your display.”

I knew that going in but the project felt natural. Fulfilling. Perfect. “You’re probably right.”

“Does he feel the same?” my mom asked.

I shrugged because I wasn’t completely sure and even if I was, he might not be ready to take the next step with me. “I hope so.”

“What does your heart say?” she asked, her eyes a reflection of mine.

“It says yes,” I whispered as it rapped uncomfortably against my chest.

“The heart doesn’t lie,” she said. “And you have so much to give, honey. That family’s been through a lot. But the way that boy looks at you . . .”

She kissed my cheek, which had become inflamed. When I looked over her shoulder, I noticed a group of muscular guys from the university walking by. The street had been roped off for the festival, so some students had walked through only to get to their destination.

I spotted Nate’s brother, Luke, in the mix of his football buddies. He wasn’t the largest one in the bunch but he walked with a surety I lacked at times. When my eye caught his, I tipped my chin and he offered a wave and a smile. My chest loosened at his acknowledgement. But that gesture alone told me that he’d already done some growing in the past few weeks, as a human being.

“I’ll be back to take over the booth in half an hour,” I told my classmate before I left my post. I walked down the row with my mom to check out her tent.

Mom grabbed a stack of fliers and began handing them out. “We’ve been busy,” she said before looking beyond my shoulder and smiling. I turned to see Nate and his mom approaching. I had trouble breathing—as if someone had suddenly vacuumed out all of the air in the entire universe.

He wore loose jeans and an expensive black T-shirt that stretched across his muscles. His mom looked good—much more relaxed than I’d seen her at that football game, but there was also a hint of sadness behind her eyes. She’d been through so much in the last month, let alone the last several years of her life. No bruises were visible on her neck, but I wondered if she still felt their presence.

As we stood talking for a bit, Nate and I seemed to have trouble tearing our gazes from each other. When Mrs. Connors started telling my mom about a potential job at the cooking school on Front Street, Nate noticed that I was wearing my favorite Chucks with the Blondie insignia. He leaned over and sang softly in my ear, “The tide is high, but I’m holding on . . .”

It was one of my favorite Blondie songs, so I finished the lyric, “I’m gonna be your number one . . .”

We grinned stupidly at each other before I said, “Thank God you’ll have your engineering degree to fall back on when your singing career goes south.”

He laughed, shoving his hands in his front pockets, and nudging my foot with his own.

“I don’t know what your plans are today,” I heard my mom say to Mrs. Connors. “But I only have to work this booth for another hour. Would you like to grab some lunch?”

Mrs. Connors looked momentarily speechless but then she smiled gratefully. She looked at Nate, whose mouth was tipped up in appreciation. He’d been so worried about his mom.

“I’d like that,” Mrs. Connors said. “I’ll walk back this way around noon.”

Mom made eye contact with me and winked. I’d officially like to be her when I grow up. She was hands down the coolest.

“I have to get back to the photography tent,” I said, almost awkwardly. I would’ve rather stayed glued to Nate’s side and I wasn’t sure when I’d see him next.

“Where is it?” Nate asked.

“Down aisle two,” I said, motioning with my thumb. “Come see me if you want.”

“Absolutely, Blue,” he said. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Chapter Thirty-seven

Nate

I asked my mom to the festival in an attempt to get her out of the house. Since her separation from my father, she no longer saw any of those society ladies and as a result, might’ve isolated herself even further. I hoped that we could walk past the cooking instruction school and she’d be tempted to go inside. Which was exactly what’d happened. She also requested an employment application.

Mom and I visited more tents down aisle one, skirting past Raw Ink, which was mobbed.

“I really like Jessie’s mom,” she said. The fact that Mrs. Walters asked her to lunch was so damn cool.

“It’ll be good for you to make a new friend,” I said. “So I’m glad.”

“It seems you really like Jessie, too,” she said quietly.

“Yeah, I do,” I said, meeting her gaze. “I just hope she feels the same. Because sometimes she’s all I think about.”

She grabbed my hand and squeezed. “I can tell that she does. And I also think you need to get to her tent already.”

“Okay, let’s go,” I said, looking up for the aisle two marker.

“No.” She shook her head. “Go by yourself and then tell her what’s in your heart. It’s time for you to go after what you want. You deserve it.”