Page 67 of Falling For Us Again

I smile. They've gotten closer in the past week, and Paul has extended his stay in town by another week, because of her, I’m sure.

I’ve always loved the magical feel of the festival. Like something from a dream that you half-remember when youwake up. When I was young, the town festival was the highlight of the summer.

My feet move across the uneven grounds, the crushed grass and dirt giving way beneath each step, and I can almost pretend that I’m that girl again—the one who didn’t have a care in the world, who was adored by her mother and her father, whose biggest worry was whether she’d win a stuffed animal at one of the game booths.

But I’m not that girl anymore. Life has seen to that. I trail behind my friends, my hands stuffed into my pockets, trying to ignore the feeling of emptiness rearing its ugly head in my chest.

Still, there’s something about the atmosphere that tugs at my heartstrings. The sound of children’s laughter fill the air, blending with the lively music coming from the main stage, where a local band is playing a mix of country and rock.

Then I hear a small, excited voice.

“Jenna! Jenna!”

I turn, my heart lifting just slightly, and I see Kim running toward me, her dark curls bouncing as she weaves through the crowd.

Her grin is wide, and her tiny hands are outstretched like she’s ready to take on the world, or at least me. I can’t help but smile—the first real one I’ve felt in days.

“Kim,” I smile at her, bending down to her level as she barrels into me with a force that’s impressive for someone so small. She hugs me tightly, her face beaming up at me.

“You’re here!” She says, breathless, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Yes, I am,” I say, my voice lighter than I feel. I brush a stray curl out of her face. “How are you doing? Are you having fun?”

She nods furiously, then grabs my hand with an enthusiasm I can’t quite match.

“Who are you with?” I look around for Maggie. “You can't be roaming around alone.”

“I’m with my uncle, Dylan.”

My heart skips a beat at the mention of his name.

“Oh.”

“He says he knows you.” She smiles even more broadly now. “You have to come with me. I want to show you to my uncle Dylan.”

“Wait, Kim—”

“No, you have to see him! He’s right over here!” she says, her voice filled with the kind of urgency that only a six-year-old can muster as she tugs me through the crowd.

I glance back at Lola and Paul, who wave me off with a smile, like they know exactly where this is heading.

I stumble after her, trying to keep up as she darts through the throng of festival goers, her laughter ringing out.

“Kim, slow down!” I call out, laughing despite myself. “I’m not as fast as you!”

But she doesn’t slow down, her excitement propelling her forward like a rocket. We pass by booths filled with games and prizes, the sound of popping balloons and clinking bottles filling the air.

The smell of cotton candy and funnel cakes wafts past us, making my mouth water, but Kim is on a mission, and there’s no stopping her now.

She comes to a sudden stop, almost causing me to crash into her, and I look around, trying to catch my breath.

And then I see him.

Dylan is standing by a booth, his back to us, holding a bouquet of wildflowers he picked out from a vendor and laughing at what the person is saying. My heart stutters for a moment, my feet slowing before Kim pulls me forward again.

“There he is!” she announces proudly, as if she’s accomplished some great feat by reuniting us.

Dylan turns at the sound of her voice, and our eyes meet.

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