Addison grins, but there’s something softer in her gaze now. “Well, he rebuilt it. Stronger than before.”
Morgan raises her brows. “Oh, she’s good.”
Leah leans in. “Be honest... are you just here for the maple pie? Because if not, I have a very cute, very single firefighter I can introduce you to. Blonde. Makes a mean chili.”
Addison looks at me, then back at Leah. “I’m good. I like brunettes. Especially the handsome, overly prepared kind.”
Morgan gasps. “She’s flirting. With our baby brother. In front of us. She’s brave.”
“I like her,” Leah says.
“Same,” Morgan nods. “Although I should warn you, Dylan once cried because someone stepped on his cardboard firetruck in kindergarten.”
“It was a very detailed replica,” I mutter.
“And he wouldn’t go to sleep unless someone played him the Rescue Heroes theme song,” Morgan continues.
“I was five!”
“Six,” Leah corrects.
Addison’s laughing so hard now she has to put her coffee down. “Okay, okay, this is honestly the best laugh I’ve had in years.”
“You get used to them,” I say dryly. “Or you invest in noise-canceling earbuds.”
“But then we wouldn’t get to vet your crushes in person,” Morgan says sweetly.
“Not a crush,” I mumble.
“Uh-huh,” Leah says. “Sure. That’s why you drove across town for pies and panic-ordered whipped cream just in case she changed her mind last minute.”
“Leah.”
“See?” Morgan stage-whispers to Addison. “Blush level three. That means he likes you. Level five is full tomato.”
Addison grins. “Good to know.”
“I need to go check on the band,” I say, backing away with zero dignity.
“Take your time!” Morgan calls. “We’ve got questions!”
As I escape toward the fiddlers, I glance back once. Addison is laughing with both of them, relaxed, right at home. No awkwardness, no nerves. Just her, shining in the sun like she belongs here.
And I think, not for the first time, she really might.
28
GOING TO BAT FOR LOVE
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 4
Addison
The transition from outside activities to evening activities allows me just enough time to pull on a dress, arrange my hair, and apply my makeup. When I walk into the firehouse, I am floored, it is completely transformed. String lights drape across the rafters, their warm glow reflecting off shiny tables covered in crisp white tablecloths. The faint scent of barbecue fills the air.
It’s perfect. And, okay, a little terrifying.
Guests mingle, raffle tickets fly off the tables, and the band shifts into an upbeat tune that gets a few brave souls dancing. I’m making my rounds, checking on volunteers and answering questions, when I feel a hand on my arm.
