Page 34 of Small Town Sash

"Well, we can't have that." Braden leaned against the doorframe, his arms folded, a determined look darkening his brown eyes. Dash sat obediently at his side, wagging his tail. "We can't just let Mrs. Shomacker get away with this."

Everyone's attention focused on him, and Hadley's face burned even redder. She had no idea he was going to be there and overhear her venting. Hadley stopped mid-pace and turned to him, her hands on her hips. "I know, but?—"

"Spreading rumors is bad enough," he continued, "but she's messing with your life and your family."

"Braden, I appreciate it, really," Hadley sighed, her blue eyes meeting his. "But the pageant is in a few days, and I need all my energy for that."

"Exactly. So why not let me help you clean this mess up?" Braden pushed away from the doorframe, stepping closer.

"Because it's not just about cleaning things up." Hadley shook her head, her black hair swaying. "It's about not stirring the pot even more."

"Stirring the pot?" Braden chuckled, though there was no humor in his voice. "She's practically boiling it over."

"Maybe so," Hadley conceded, biting her lip. "But I've got to pick my battles. This one is..." She gestured vaguely, her voice trailing off.

"Is worth fighting," Braden finished for her. "Trust me."

"Braden, I have a sash to win and a point to prove," Hadley countered; her resolve hardening. "Not a neighbor to take down."

"Fine," he relented after a beat, though his stance remained rigid. "But if she crosses the line again..."

"Then we'll consider it. But right now," Hadley stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his arm, "let's focus on positive things. Like...how I'm going to walk in my swimsuit without face-planting."

"Okay, but for the record," Braden grinned, "you'd still win points for most graceful fall."

"Ha-ha," Hadley rolled her eyes, but a reluctant smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Always," Braden winked.

The next day at practice,Hadley couldn't seem to get anything right. Hadley's heels clicked against the polished floor, echoing too loudly in her ears. She twirled, but her arms felt like lead, and her smile was plastic.

"Footwork, Hadley," her mother's voice pierced through the music.

"Right, sorry," she mumbled, attempting another turn and stumbling slightly.

"Take five, everyone," the choreographer called out with a sigh.

As the other contestants dispersed, chatting and laughing, Hadley sank into a chair, her forehead creasing with frustration. Braden approached, his brown eyes showing concern beneath the furrow of his brows.

"Rough go?" he ventured.

"Understatement of the year," Hadley snapped, instantly regretting her tone. "Sorry, it's not you."

"Hey, no sweat." He sat beside her, a comforting presence. "You know, sometimes knocking the bullies down a peg can really take the edge off?—"

"Braden, I said no." Hadley cut him off, her voice sharp. "I'm not adding fuel to this dumpster fire."

"Dumpster fire, huh?" He grinned, but his smile quickly faded. "Hadley, these bullies?—"

"Will be there whether I fight them or not," she interjected, standing up abruptly. "And right now, I need to focus on not tripping over my own feet."

"Okay, okay," Braden relented, hands raised in surrender. "Just remember, if they push too hard?—"

"Thanks, but I've got it." Hadley forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"All right then." Braden stood, giving her a nod before moving away. "You've got this."

"Thanks," she murmured to his retreating back.

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