Page 67 of The Heartstrings of Harry
I clenched my hands into fists inside my pockets.
Don’t look at him like that, Dean. Don’t give it away.
But my body didn’t seem to care what my brain was saying, because my heart was still racing, and my stomach was still wrapping itself into knots.
It would’ve been so easy to run to him, to throw my arms around him, kiss him until I forgot how much this whole world terrified me right now, when all I really wanted to do was live inhisworld.
But we couldn’t.
Not here. Not yet.
“Dean!” Astrid snapped her fingers an inch from my face. “For God’s sake, stay with me!”
I flinched. “Right. Yeah. I’m here.”
She gave me a sharp look, then narrowed her eyes like she was trying to read me. “You’re nervous.”
“No, I’m fine,” I lied badly.
Astrid’s lips pressed into a tight line, but thankfully, she didn’t push it.
“Okay. Listen up.” She stabbed at the iPad again. “Here’s what we’re locking in next…”
But I barely heard her.
Because across the park, Harry looked up—and for half a second, his eyes met mine.
And just like that, I was gone all over again.
* * *
By late afternoon, the war zone had quietened down, at least a little. The park was still tangled with cables and half-assembled trusses, but most of the crew were packing down, coiling wires, locking up gear crates, and shouting things like, “Who moved my impact driver?!” across the field.
The air smelled like crushed grass, sweat, and hot electronics.
Astrid clapped her hands once, loud and assertive. “Alright, people! That’s a wrap for today. Tomorrow we’ve got sound check then a full rehearsal in the afternoon. If anyone oversleeps, Iwillsend Barney to your house with the fog cannon.”
A couple of groans rippled through the crew, but mostly folks nodded, too tired to argue. She flipped her headset up and turned toward me.
“Dean,” she called out, voice slicing through the leftover hum of generator noise. “Home. Rest. Hydrate. No tequila tonight—I want your voice.”
I gave her a half-hearted thumbs -up and probably the worst fake smile in history. She narrowed her eyes at me like she knew exactly how little I meant it, but let it slide.
The Mulligan’s Mill crew started peeling off one by one.
Dad hoisted a coil of rope onto his shoulder and gave me a friendly wave. “See you at home, kiddo.”
Mitch pushed Ginny back toward the path, the two of them deep in conversation—probably about the logistics of emergency egress or how to overthrow the production team via spreadsheet.
Bo gave a lazy salute, sunglasses still on even though the sun was dipping.
Brooks trailed behind them with his book under one arm, muttering something to Madeline about voltage converters like he was personally offended by their existence.
Maggie yelled, “Bye besties, love you, see you tomorrow—don’t let the lasers bite,” and immediately tripped over a speaker case, catching herself on the rigging with the grace of a baby panda.
God, I loved this town.
And then there was Harry.
