Page 19 of The Fangirl and the Crooner

“Naked?” he offers when my words trail off.

I shake my head. “I’m supposed to be mad at her.”

“There’s a fine line between anger and lust. Trust me. I know,” he says.

“That’s the thing, though,” I say. “I’m having a hard time remembering why I was so mad to begin with. Like her mere presence has cast a spell over me, or something.”

“Fuck, you’re so clueless. I’m kind of loving this, since you’re usually the one offering sage advice.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“You’ve obviously forgiven her,” he says, “and it’s about damn time, too. You know she didn’t mean any harm, and she’s realized her mistake. And now thatyou’ve forgiven her, you can focus on repairing your relationship with her. Now, whether that means remaining friends or exploring something more is up to you. And her, of course.”

I think about his words for a few beats, then turn in my chair to face him. “When did you get so wise?”

He shrugs. “I have this bartender friend who always knows what to say and always has the right advice to give. Maybe his skill has rubbed off on me, or something.”

“Maybe it did,” I say with a grin. “Or maybe, you’re just an old softy beneath that gruff, grumpy exterior and have been hiding it from everyone your whole life.”

“Okay. I’m out of here,” he grumps, standing and folding his chair before stashing it back into the bushes.

“Hey, Trace,” I call out when he starts to walk away.

Turning back, he asks, “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

He gives me a firm nod. “You’re welcome.”

After he leaves, I sit for a while, staring out at the lake. Trace was right. I have forgiven Pressley.

And now, it’s time to decide what I really want and what I’m going to do to get it.

Chapter

Thirteen

Pressley

When I re-emerge from my room, Bram is gone. Wandering into the kitchen, I find a note that he’s meeting Trace and will be back later, and honestly, I’m relieved. That whole scene between us this morning was just damn awkward. I hate not knowing how to act around him. And I hate that he doesn’t seem to know how to act around me, either.

It’s like we’re both performing the same dance, but our individual rhythms are slightly off-beat.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I tap the screen to open the text thread between Keegan, Willow, and me. My thumbs fly across the screen as I furiously type out a message.

Me:Can you guys meet? I feel like I’m having an existential crisis over here.

I don’t have to wait long for both of them to respond.

Willow:I’m at work. Come on by, and I’ll take a break so we can talk.

Keegan:I can be there in ten.

Me:Thanks, ladies. I’ll see you soon!

Flipping Bram’s note over, I grab the pen he left beside it on the counter and write out a quick note that I’ve gone to Moonstone Mystic to see Willow and Keegan, and I’ll be home soon. I freeze, staring at the word “home” while I consider scratching it out and replacing it with…what?

Shaking my head, I drop the pen. Even if I came up with a more suitable word, the change would be obvious. I’d look and feel like an overthinking idiot. Bram probably won’t give the word a second glance.

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