I’m in the kitchen, sorting through the hardware we picked up for the upstairs windows, when Ronnie’s voice carries from the front porch.
“…yeah, she’s here every morning now. Looks like they’re finally making it official.”
I stop, a screw halfway to the counter.
He laughs, low and easy. “Nah, it’s not like that. Well, maybe it is. I mean, they’re definitely spending a lot of time together.”
My jaw tightens.
I grab the box of hinges, shove it into the cupboard harder than necessary, and head toward the door.
Ronnie’s leaning against the porch rail, phone to his ear, grinning like he’s in on the best joke in town. He glances over his shoulder at me, unbothered. “Oh—yeah, he just walked out here. You want to tell him yourself, or should I?”
I hold out my hand. “Give me the phone.”
He ends the call instead. “Relax, man. It was just Kyle from the hardware store. Word’s getting around, that’s all.”
“Of course it is,” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my jaw. Small towns never needed social media to spread a story, but give them a camera and a reason, and they’ll burn the place down in a day.
Ronnie squints at me. “You really didn’t think this would blow up, did you? You’re dating Lyla Hart. That’s—”
“I’mnotdating her.”
“Right, you’re just letting the whole town think you are. Big difference.”
I step past him, leaning against the rail, staring out at the street. From here, I can see her house, the curtains in the front window swaying with the breeze.
It’s not just the attention I hate. It’s the way this’ll play with my family — especially Colton. As far as they’re concerned, I’ve been the black sheep for years. This? This’ll be proof I’m still the guy who makes the wrong call, the one who doesn’t care who he drags through the mud with him.
Except I do care.
Ronnie joins me at the railing. “You should get ahead of it before someone spins it worse than it already is.”
I glance at him. “And how do you suggest I do that?”
“Take her to lunch. Somewhere public. Make it look like you’re not hiding anything.”
“Not interested.”
He grins. “Then people will just fill in the blanks themselves. Probably with something way dirtier than the truth.”
I shake my head, but the thought gnaws at me. The gossip isn’t going to stop. And the longer I avoid her in public, the more it’ll look like I’m ashamed of her, or of what people think we are.
Which… isn’t exactly wrong.
By the time Lyla walks up to the porch, coffee in hand, I’ve already run through a dozen ways to keep her at arm’s length today. None of them survives past the second she steps inside,hair caught up in a messy bun, the drawstring on her hoodie hanging loose.
“Morning,” she says, offering me the extra coffee like it’s a peace treaty.
I take it, muttering, “Thanks,” before jerking my chin toward the kitchen. “We’ve got a problem.”
She freezes halfway through unzipping her hoodie. “What kind of problem?”
Ronnie, already leaning against the counter like he’s been waiting for this, answers for me. “Well, you’re officially the hottest topic in town. Kyle at the hardware store says it’s all anyone’s talking about — Lyla Hart and Damien Lawson, together at last.”
Her eyes flick to me. “You told people?”
“I didn’t tell anyone,” I snap. “You toldeveryonewhen you opened your mouth at that charity event.”
