Page 16 of Harper

“Hey, Reeve,” he says, his voice easy and warm with my baby sister.

“Happy Fourth!” she says. “Not competing?”

“No. Not today,” he says. “I’ll let your brothers have the prizes this time.”

“It’s Sawyer’s year for gold,” gushes Reeve. “I just know it!”

Joe looks over at the thirty or so men lined up and ready to start throwing. My brothers are tall and blonde—they stick out in the crowd.

“He’s looking pretty cut,” says Joe.

“Yeah. Right?” Reeve nudges me in the side. “Don’t you think so, Harper?”

“Sure,” I say, taking out my phone and flipping through Instagram like I’m way too busy to be bothered with this conversation.

“I still remember the first year I competed,” says Joe.

His words are like a punch to my gut.

“Was I there?” asks Reeve.

“Yes, you were,” says Joe. “But you were also itty bitty, and I think your dad took you home before the medal ceremony.”

“Did you win one?” asks Reeve.

“I did. Came in second,” he says. “I lost to Hunter.”

“Aw! Tough day, huh?”

“Not really,” says Joe softly. “Great day, actually.”

I clench my jaw until it hurts, staring devotedly at a video compilation of cats pushing full plates of food off counters with their paws.

“You remember that day, Harp?” he asks, his voice soft, almost intimate.

Damn him.

“Mmm-hmm,” I murmur.

“Joe,” says Reeve. “Have you met McKenna? She’s staying with us this summer.”

As Joe and McKenna exchange pleasantries over me, I wonder if I can get up and move seats without appearing to be a total bitch, but just as I’m considering an exit route, Ms. Clearwater stands up with a bullhorn to get the competition started, and I lose my window.

It’s a relief (and, frankly, a surprise) that once the contest begins, I’m so distracted by the battle to be best, that I almost forget Joe Raven is sitting next to me. I cheer wildly for my brothers, jumping to my feet when, as Reeve predicted, Sawyer is declared this year’s axe-throwing winner. Hunter doesn’t place at all, but I’m happy that Tanner manages to come in third, holding up his medal and grinning like a dope for McKenna.

“First and third for the Stewart boys,” says Joe. “Not bad.”

“Says the guy sitting on the bleachers,” I tease, forgetting not to grin at him.

He stares at me in surprise, his answering smile slow and a little sad. “Hey. There she is.”

My heart twists, and I look away quickly because I saw it there in his eyes, just as I always do when I risk a look at Joe Raven: You’ll always be my girl.

I jump up. “I have to go.”

“Where?” demands Reeve.

“I need air.”

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