Page 45 of Beautifully Broken
“Yeah,” I said.
I wasn’t sure if I meant Emily… or the rest of the world.
Chapter 6
Emily
The old barn sat at the edge of the field, strung with golden lights that flickered like fireflies in the warm summer dusk. Music floated on the breeze—a familiar song from senior year, full of heartbreak and hormones and memories we hadn't asked for but brought with us anyway.
We parked near the back, gravel crackling beneath the tires. The barn glowed ahead like something out of a country fairytale, all weathered wood and wide doors thrown open to reveal an outdoor dance floor lit up beneath a canopy of string lights. Mason jars filled with candles lined the walkway. There was a bar tucked off to the right, a photo booth to the left, and the low hum of conversation and laughter already rising in the air.
I took a breath.
"You're stalling," Jordan said from the passenger seat, her voice calm but amused.
I looked over. She was adjusting the strap of her cherry-red dress, the silky material hugging every curve. Her black hair was pulled into a high ponytail that bounced when she turned. Her lipstick matched the dress, bold and unapologetic.
Behind us, Sadie kicked open her door and stepped out like she owned the place. Her short green dress hugged her hips, the neckline a plunging V that only she could make look both sexy and effortless.
"You're both ridiculous," I muttered.
"You look hot," Sadie said, grinning. "You know that, right? Like, movie star hot."
I snorted, stepping out and smoothing the hem of my black dress. It was shorter than I usually went for, with delicate lace at the edges and thin straps that dipped into a low back. I wore my hair up, curls pinned in a soft twist,gold hoops brushing my jaw. I had gone full glam—the smoky eyes, the red nails, the heels that made my calves look like I worked out.
I didn’t. But the illusion was nice.
"Okay," Jordan said, looping her arm through mine. "Let’s go be emotionally vulnerable in front of people we haven’t seen in ten years."
"Can’t wait," I muttered.
Sadie grinned. "We’re getting margaritas after this."
"Margarita therapy," Jordan said. "Pact still stands."
We crossed the gravel, our heels clicking like we belonged in some kind of reunion movie montage. I could already spot faces I half-remembered—a cheerleader who was on her third husband, a guy who'd once copied my calculus homework.
Someone let out a loud whoop from near the dance floor. A few people were already swaying to the music, beers in hand. It wasn’t formal, not really—but it was full of energy, and the kind of nostalgia that buzzed under your skin.
As we stepped onto the wooden dance floor, a breeze kicked up, fluttering the edge of my dress.
"Do you think Caleb will come?" Sadie asked, quieter now.
My stomach flipped.
I hadn’t asked that question out loud, but it had lived in the back of my throat since I put on my lipstick.
I scanned the crowd, the laughter and swaying bodies, the glow of lights catching against raised glasses.
No sign of him.
"I hope so," I said, voice soft.
Jordan glanced over. "If he doesn’t, he’s a dumbass."
That made me smile. A real one.
Sadie bumped my hip. "If he shows, I get to trip him on the dance floor. Just a little."
