“Everything OK?” Dylan asks.
“Yup, everything’s peachy with the one who is gunning for the Bridezilla of the year award.” I exhale and stare absentmindedly at the scenery passing us by. What if Meredith is right?
11
BETWEEN A JEEP & A SOFT PLACE
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 1ST
Dylan
We ride in silence, being serenaded by the Indigo Girls. Something has Addison staring out the window, not fidgeting, not sighing — just thinking. That bride seems to be intense. Probably cataloging every logistic, down to what color ribbon needs to go on the bench ends. But I’m not watching the road anymore. I’m watching her.
That’s dangerous.
I shift my grip on the wheel, pulse still ticking from earlier. The afternoon in the orchard with her felt… good. Easy. And I don’t get “easy” very often.
I mean, sure. I joke. I flirt. I fix things and build things and smile like nothing rattles me. But that’s muscle memory. You learn to be the guy everyone counts on — in a fire, on a construction site, on the baseball field. Confidence makes people feel safe.
Addison? I want to be real with her.
That scares the hell out of me in the best way.
Because I want her to look at me and see more than the kid from Birch Harbor who can swing a hammer and flash a grin. I want her to see the man — the one who stayed behind when his teammates went pro, who helped rebuild his uncle’s contracting business from a two-star Yelp page, who runs toward fires when most people run away.
And yeah, maybe I want her to see the guy who’s been noticing the way her curls bounce when she laughs and the way her eyes flinch when she tries not to feel something.
Maybe I want to be seen by someone like Addison.
Which is exactly why the moment Cassandra’s Jeep pulls up beside us at the stop sign, I feel my entire body go tight. Cassandra, Birch Harbor’s social influencer. I never really got why or how she got such a strong national and international following.
Her blonde ponytail swings into view before her voice does. “Dylan!”
Addison doesn’t react. Not visibly.
I do.
“Who’s your date?” Cassandra says, her gaze drifting past me to Addison. It’s not rude. But it’s not friendly, either.
I keep my voice casual. “Just heading back from a site consult, Cass, no reason to start any rumors.”
Cassandra leans a little farther out her window, all painted nails and cheerful menace. “You didn’t tell me you were working with THE Addison Bennett. She planned my cousin Riley’s wedding. Lavender and eucalyptus. Made my allergies flare up for a week.”
Addison smiles politely. “Yes, that was me. Sorry about that.”
I want to say something. Deflect. Reclaim the moment.
But Cassandra keeps going. “We’re grabbing drinks at the lodge next Friday. You should come, Dylan. We haven’t seen you out in ages.”
I feel Addison shift beside me, just slightly, like she’s making herself smaller.
“Maybe. I’ll see how the week goes.”
Cassandra grins, waves, and peels off. Her tires spit gravel behind her.
I don’t speak until we’re halfway across the lot. “She’s just a friend.”
Addison chuckles. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Coach.”
