Page 71 of Catch the Sun

“Did you take a pretty girl?”

I think of Ella dancing in my arms, looking stunning in her sunny-orange dress, her eyes and smile just as bright. “Yeah, I did.”

“That makes your old man proud. I should get some pictures for the wall.”

Once upon a time, we had walls brimming with photographs, canvases, and mismatched frames. Memories lined the plaster. Fishing trips, camping adventures, and family barbecues were displayed in every hallway and love-filled room.

Now the hallways are empty, the rooms barren and cold.

Even saying we have walls is a stretch.

Before I can respond, my father sits up straighter and his attention snags on my butterfly bandage. “What happened to your head?” he asks, tone laced with alarm.

Swallowing, I lift my hand to the covered wound. He doesn’t remember that night. He has no recollection of smashing a lamp to the side of my head and tackling me to the floor in the exact spot I’m standing in. “I fell down by the lake,” I lie. “I was running and tripped over some hedges.”

His face screws up with distress. “I worry about you, Max. You’re always running off alone and I fear one day you’ll never come back.”

A dark sadness rolls through me as I step backward out of the room. “I’ll always come back, Dad. Don’t worry.” What I want to add is:I have nowhere else to go.

But I don’t.

“You should give her flowers.”

I hesitate, stopping in place before making my exit. “Flowers?”

“For the girl you brought to the dance,” he says. “Girls like flowers. Your mother enjoyed white roses because they symbolized eternal loyalty.” His silvery-blue eyes glass over for a beat before he picks up the book in his lap and settles against the shoddy headboard with a sigh. “I preferred to get her red roses. Maybe that’s why she left me.”

I stare at him for a few breaths before scratching at my hair and retreating from the room. “Good night, Dad.”

“Good night.”

Moments later, I’m in the middle of the street with an ivory quilt bunchedunderneath my arm. Ella fidgets near the side of the road, toeing at a patch of grass, adorned in a fresh pair of sneakers. She’s still wearing her dress. “Sorry for the wait,” I tell her. “Ready?”

I watch her eyes pan to my house before she nods. “Ready.”

We make it to the bluffs after walking in comfortable silence, and I lead Ella to a small clearing atop a grassy hill underneath a sky of stars. My heart fumbles at how romantic the scene feels, despite my original intent. Something has shifted between us, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. It’s alarming, exciting…unanticipated. It’s the last thing I ever wanted, and yet I seem to be chasing the feeling head-on, caught in a whirlwind of new emotions.

I glance around at the little oasis as grass smashes beneath my feet, still damp from recent rainfall. The horizon blends dark earth with a deeper blue sky, and everything looks so…magical. I’ve been here a hundred times and it never felt like anything more than nature splashed with starlight.

The difference is I’ve never been here with her.

My throat feels tight as I inch forward and mutter, “Come on. I’ll lay the blanket out over here.”

“Wait.” Ella snatches my wrist, stopping me, her eyes filled with the ancient glow of the moon. Letting out a sigh, she straightens and lifts her chin. “I will stargaze with you in my orange dress, Max Manning, but only under one condition.”

“Okay. Anything.”

She lets go of my wrist, glances up at the sky, then turns back to face me. “Promise me that this is not a date.”

A smile blooms. I untuck the quilt from under my arm, drape it out across the grass, and gesture for her to have a seat. “I promise you, Ella Sunbury,” I lie through my teeth. “This is not a date.”

Chapter 17

Ella

“This feels like a date.” I lie sprawled out on the quilt beside Max, my eyes turned up to the Tennessee sky. The scent of dewy grass and damp earth hangs in the air as the dull hoot from a faraway owl serenades the darkness.

Wrinkling my nose, I turn to Max to gauge his reaction.

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