Page 61 of Lessons in Heartbreak

Except to Marcus, of course.

Marcus never expected me to be like Barrett, so I couldn’t even be pissed at him for saying it. No matter how it would stick like glue in my throat, I might be willing to admit that yes, occasionally, my brother had positive things to contribute to the world.

But I still kicked my foot out at Marcus, catching him square in the side of his thigh. He swore, and I laughed.

“That’s probably gonna bruise,” he muttered, rubbing at the spot. In his other hand, he scrolled on his phone. “Hey, I was trying to find something to do around here, and it says there’s a fair tomorrow. I fucking love fairs. Wanna go?”

“You think we won’t stick out like a sore thumb at a small-town fair?”

“No one will even notice it’s us,” he said.

“Uh-huh.” I eyed the dozens of tattoos covering his arms, the reddish-blond hair tied off his face, and the big beard. Marcus was even taller than me, an absolute monster at six six. “I’m sure you’ll blend right in.”

“Is that a yes?”

I stared at my friend, then picked up the whiskey, trying to imagine him anywhere in Ruby’s vicinity. Maybe she’d be so busy I wouldn’t even see her. I nodded. “Yeah, we can go.”

“Sweet.” He eased his long legs out onto the ottoman in front of him. “What should we do the rest of the night?”

I picked up the remote. “You can do whatever you want. I’m watching the rest of my movie.”

“Fuck you, no you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.” I raised my eyebrows. “If you like the end of this one, I’ll show youPride and Prejudice.”

Marcus knocked back the rest of the whiskey, pinching his eyes shut. “I think I’m trapped in a nightmare.”

“You’ll love it.” I chucked a pillow at him. “There’s a hand flex.”

He caught it and wedged it behind his head. “Whatever you say, King. Whatever you say.”

Chapter FifteenRuby

Under normal circumstances, a fair atmosphere would be considered the ultimate form of punishment for me. It was crowded and loud and germy, and it smelled like deep-fried food.

But that particular fair, on that particular evening, felt just on the right side of magical.

Shrieks of laughter filled the air, whooping from various rides, ebbing and flowing on a slow loop as the machines whipped people through the air on swings, whirling teacups, and kiddie rides. We’d invested a lot into this fundraiser, opting for a larger up-front cost with the possibility of a higher reward, knowing that the promise of community fun might sway people to be a little bit more generous.

The weather was perfect all day, the sun staying behind just enough intermittent cloud cover that no one got too hot, no one got sunburned, even though the temps were in the midseventies. Instead of doing an all-day event, we’d opened the fairgrounds at two and were able to manage the volunteer list so that everyone was in their designated spot for a couple of hours on each rotation. The gates would close at nine, and with a few hours left to go, I was more than ready to crawl into bed, but as one of the chairs of the event, I’d been moving all day, making sure everyone had what they needed.

“We’re almost out of cinnamon sugar, Ruby,” Lauren called.

“On it.”

After visiting the second funnel cake stand on the opposite side of the high school parking lot, I heaved a bag onto the counter next to the deep fryer.

“More sugar than a small country should consume, but here you go.”

She leaned over to kiss my cheek soundly. “Bless you.”

Because no one needed anything at that moment, I watched her deftly pour out more dough to create the lacy design of fried goodness for the next person in line, a towering lumberjack of a guy with red hair and a big beard, his massive arms covered in ink.

“God, that looks fucking delicious,” he said, leaning in to watch her.

She met his gaze and winked. “Cakes won’t be bad either.”

His eyebrows shot up, appraising her frankly. “I like a woman with confidence.”

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