Page 33 of Simply Yours

Caitlin swallowed hard. That anger she’d been holding onto wavered, shifting into something more vulnerable, something she hated letting Matthew see.

“It’s beensix weeks, Matthew,” she whispered, voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady. “Do you know how I felt, thinking?—”

She cut herself off, shaking her head. No. He didn’t deserve to know. Because then he’d just try to fix it again, and she was so darn tired of him meddling. “You know what? Never mind. I’m not telling you. Because then you would havehadto fix it, and I don’t want you messing with me like that. I never comment on your traipsing around, and you made sure I never got the chance to do the same with the one person I’ve watched since I was a teenager.”

Her words hung between them, raw and exposed, and for once, Matthew didn’t have a snappy comeback. After a long beat, he exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I don’t get what you see in him.”

Caitlin let out a breath of laughter, but it wasn’t amused—it was hollow. “I don’t either.” She sagged, her arms wrapping around herself as her frustration melted into something sadder, something more resigned. “I can’t answer that, and I can’t explain it.”

Matthew was quiet for a moment, watching her in a way that made her feel seen, even when she didn’t want to be. Then, finally, he sighed and bent down, scooping up the broken loaf of bread from the ground. He held it out to her.

“Wanna bash me once more?” he asked, a crooked, apologetic smile on his lips.

Caitlin stared at him, at the stupid loaf, at the stupid boy who had been her best friend for as long as she could remember. Then she snatched the bread from his hands and smacked him upside the head with it.

“Idiot,” she muttered.

Matthew just grinned.

Caitlin forced out a chuckle, the sound wobbling with an emotion she refused to name. It sat thick in her throat, an unspoken weight pressing against her ribs, threatening to spill over in the form of frustrated, unshed tears. She hated how easily he could do this—how one simple act, meant to shield her, could slice through her carefully built armor. It wasn’t fair. He was trying to protect her, she knew that, but in doing so, he’d only managed to wound her instead.

She inhaled sharply, willing herself to hold steady, and to keep her voice light despite the storm brewing inside her.

“Kissing booth,” he murmured, voice low and rough enough to send an unwelcome shiver down her spine. He tilted his chin toward the garishly decorated stand draped in heart-shaped bunting, where a line of hopefuls waited their turn. His eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something else there, too—something unreadable that made her stomach twist. “You should take a few turns, sneak in a few smooches, and…”

His words hung between them, teasing yet weighted, a challenge wrapped in casual suggestion.

Caitlin arched a brow, refusing to let him have the upper hand. If he thought she was going to stand here and let him rattle her, he had another thing coming.

“Oh, sure,” she smirked, lifting her hand and pointing down the bustling row of booths where thick clouds of smoke and the rich scent of slow-roasted meat filled the air. “And while I’m at it, why don’t you go get my barbecue seasoning?”

The look he shot her was priceless—equal parts exasperation and reluctant amusement.

“Uh-huh,” he drawled, crossing his arms over his broad chest, his body language all lazy defiance. But there was an edge to it, a flicker of something raw beneath the teasing. “And if I try to sneak a chance at the kissing booth, just make sure it’s not you in line.”

Caitlin’s smirk deepened. “Ughhh!”

They both made exaggerated faces, their noses scrunching up like kids forced to eat their least favorite vegetable.

* * *

Hours later, Caitlin sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she surveyed the dwindling crowd. The afternoon had dragged by, leaving her stall mostly untouched, save for the three loaves of bread she’d managed to sell. The absence of one particular person gnawed at her more than she cared to admit. Matthew had never returned with her barbecue seasoning, nor had she spotted him in the crowd again.

Beside her, the kissing booth had been an overwhelming success. The orphanage would certainly benefit from the town’s enthusiastic generosity—especially with Mabel in charge. The older woman had taken her role quite seriously, doling out kisses with flair, sometimes even dipping the braver men backward as the crowd whooped and cheered. It was entertaining, heartwarming even, watching the town come together like this.

But now, as the sun began its slow descent, shadows stretched long over the tables, and the festival started to wind down. Vendors packed up their goods, folding tablecloths and stacking crates. The scent of fried dough and barbecue still lingered in the air, mingling with the crisp breeze, but the energy of the day had shifted. Soon, folks would filter into the community hall for bingo or the spades tournament, and the lively fairground would be nothing but scattered remnants of laughter and trampled confetti.

“Last call!” Mabel’s voice rang out, loud and commanding as she shook her donation jar at the remaining stragglers. The coins inside clinked together, but she didn’t seem satisfied just yet. With a sudden pivot, her sharp gaze landed on Caitlin.

“Caitie, you wanna take a crack at this?” Mabel gestured toward the booth, an impish grin curling at the corners of her mouth. “I bet some boys would love to kiss a sweet young lady like yourself…”

Caitlin’s stomach flipped. Her face burned so hot she was sure she’d glow like a lantern in the dusky light. She let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head quickly. “Oh, I don’t think so,” she murmured, attempting to wave off the suggestion. “You want them togivemoney to charity, not ask for arefund.”

Mabel scoffed, crossing her arms. “Honey, ain’t nobody getting their money back once it hits the jar.”

Caitlin chuckled, but her discomfort lingered. She nudged a loaf of bread forward on her table as if that might distract them both. “I haven’t sold hardly anything today, and I can tell you for a fact that these thin lips are not what guys are looking for.” She pointed at her own face, trying to make light of it.

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