Page 69 of Falling For Us Again

Dylan listens patiently, nodding along as she rattles off her choices, and it warms my heart at the sight of them together.

“I’ll be right back,” he says when Kim is done. “What about you, Jenna? Strawberry and vanilla as always?”

“Beauty in simplicity.”

He gives me one last lingering look before turning to the man behind the counter. I take a few steps away from the stand, watching Kim play with her friends.

She's so young and carefree, and a rush of protectiveness overwhelms me. I hope she remains this happy and carefree forever.

Suddenly, I feel a chill creep up my spine—a sensation that’s as familiar as it is unwelcome. And then, I see her.

Dylan’s mother.

She’s standing near one of the booths, talking to a vendor, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk. The moment she sees me, something shifts in her gaze, a flicker of recognition followed by that familiar disgust.

It hits me like a punch to the gut, as it always does. No matter how many years pass, no matter how many times I tell myself that I don’t care, that her opinion doesn’t matter, it still makes me feel slightly queasy.

I’ve never understood why she hates me so much. She was always polite enough in front of others, but the undercurrent of disapproval was there from the beginning, lurking beneath everycarefully chosen word and every tight-lipped smile, making it clear that I was never good enough.

Not for her dear son, not for this town, not for anything.

And now, standing here, holding this bouquet of flowers that I didn’t ask for, I feel that old ache rising up again. The hurt, the confusion, the frustration of never being enough.

I want to turn around, to run away, to escape before she has the chance to say anything, but it’s too late.

She’s already making her way toward me, her steps slow and deliberate, her expression unreadable.

“Jenna,” she says, her voice as sharp as I remember, cutting through the noise of the festival like a blade. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

I swallow hard, the taste of bitterness lingering on my tongue. “Yeah, well, here I am,” I say, forcing the words out, unable to even force myself to follow it with a tight smile. “It’s been a long time, Mrs. Anderson.”

She tilts her head slightly, studying me with that same calculating gaze that used to make me feel so small, like a pest she couldn't get rid of. “Yes, it has. And yet, here you are. Back in Hartlow.”

There’s an edge to her words, a subtle accusation that makes my pulse quicken. I want to tell her that I didn’t come back for Dylan, but I refuse to give her the dignity.

“I’m just here for the festival,” I say instead, my voice sounding hollow even to my ears. “That’s all.”

Dylan’s mother doesn’t respond right away, but the silence between us speaks volumes. I can feel her judgment in the way her eyes sweep over me, assessing and measuring.

It’s always been like this with her, as if she’s waiting for me to slip up, to give her a reason to confirm whatever terrible conclusions she’s already drawn about me.

Maybe I should say something, stand up for myself, and finally demand an answer to the question that’s haunted me for years. Why? Why does she hate me?

What did I ever do to make her look at me with such contempt? But the words stick in my throat. I don’t know how to start a fight I’m not sure I can win.

I refuse to let her see how much she still affects me. I refuse to let her have that power over me anymore. I glance to the counter; Dylan’s still there, oblivious to the tension unfolding, his focus entirely on Kim as he hands her a cone piled high with scoops of colorful ice cream.

I take out a packet of chips from my bag and begin to eat, dismissing her before she gets a chance to dismiss me.

“I see,” she finally says, her tone cool. “Well, enjoy the festival. I’m sure you’ll find it quite... charming.”

There’s something in the way she says the word that makes my skin crawl, like there’s a hidden meaning that I’m not quite grasping.

Before I can figure it out, Dylan walks over to us, and I take some steps back, removing myself from the situation, not wanting to listen to anything else she has to say.

I might never know why she hates me, and I’m going to have to be okay with that.

Chapter 24

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