Page 51 of The One Who Changed Everything

"I know you’re scared," he continued, his thumb stroking the back of my hand. "I know trusting me isn’t easy. But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere."

I took a shaky breath. "What if we mess it up?"

His lips quirked. "Then we figure it out. Together."

The word settled deep inside me, cracking through the walls I’d built.

Together.

I searched his face, the sincerity, the devotion, and something in me caved.

I squeezed his hand. "Okay."

His breath hitched. "Yeah?"

I nodded, a small smile breaking through. "Yeah."

Evan let out a breathless chuckle, then, without warning, tugged me against him. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close, and for the first time in years, I let myself sink into it.

A half-hour later, we exited the maze and I found myself chatting with Krystal Storm near the cider booth. The FaithMark actress had her signature bright blonde hair tucked beneath a knit beanie. Her husband, Bryce, was talking to Evan about something at the fire station.

"I loved your last movie," I gushed. "It had everything—small-town charm, a snowed-in cabin, and a misunderstood cowboy who secretly writes poetry." I fanned my face as though overheated. “Sophia and I watch every single one together.”

Krystal smiled graciously. “That’s so fun. I love that you can watch them with her. But am I wrong, or are you making time for some real-life romance these days?” She glanced meaningfully toward Evan.

“What? Oh… No, we’re just–”

She turned to him with a dramatic sigh. "Evan, help me out here. Doesn’t Samantha seem like someone who needs a little romance in her life?"

Evan smirked, sliding his hands into his pockets. "I don’t know, Krystal. I think she’s doing alright in the romance department."

My cheeks burned. Krystal raised a perfectly arched brow. “That’s what I like to hear,” she said with a knowing smile.

As she bounced off, I turned to Evan. "You didn’t have to encourage her."

He grinned. "But it’s fun watching you squirm."

I rolled my eyes, but the teasing warmth between us lingered.

We wandered for a while, stopping to admire booths and sample apple cider donuts. The ease between us was growing, but there was still an undercurrent of tension. This felt more like a date than anything we’d ever done together.

The thought sent a ripple of awareness through me. This wasn’t just two parents spending time with their daughter at a festival. This was something more. And the way Evan kept stealing glances at me—the way his hand brushed against mine every few steps—told me he felt it, too.

We stopped at a booth selling handmade candles, the warm scents of cinnamon and vanilla curling through the crisp autumn air. I picked one up, inhaling deeply. “Smells like fall in a jar.”

Evan leaned in, his shoulder brushing mine. “That the official librarian review?”

I laughed. “I’d say so.”

I reached for my wallet, but before I could pull out any cash, Evan handed the vendor a bill.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, glancing up at him.

He shrugged. “I wanted to.”

There was something in his voice, something steady and sure. It was such a simple gesture, but it made my heart twist. I was used to doing everything on my own—paying for every little thing, making every decision. But Evan kept stepping in, kept showing me, in these small but significant ways, that I didn’t have to anymore.

I cleared my throat, willing my emotions to settle. “Well… thank you.”

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