Page 58 of Under Pink Skies

“I want to dance,” Abbie announced, gesturing to the dance floor. “Everyone else here is drunk and won’t remember my inability to dance in the morning. Tomorrow, it’s back to business as usual.”

I nodded, pulling her into my side as a gaggle of drunken girls stumbled past us, heading for the bathroom. Imogen came up on my other side, practically clinging to Kameron’s arm. My eyebrows raised in a silent question, but Kameron’s unusually stoic gaze warned me away from that line of questioning.

“Well, I must say, there’s more people here than I was expecting,” Kam said.

“Just a song or two,” Abbie said, grabbing for Imogen’s arm and wrenching her away from Kam’s side. A country song with a beat most girls in the bar seemed to recognize—given their hollers of excitement—blared over the speakers. Imogen and Abbie shared a glance that spelled trouble, and they moved onto the dance floor.

Kam and I turned our backs against the bar, as Abbie and Imogen found their place among the two lines of people gearing up for the song.

“Where I’m from, the local bar used to host line dancing every Friday night. It was the place to be the summer after high school,” Kameron said, gesturing to where the two women moved in time to the beat. Abbie started to grapevine right instead of left, and slammed into Imogen, who cried out in mock outrage. Abbie tilted her head back and laughed. The sound traveled past the crowd to me.

I smiled. It had been far too long since she laughed like this, without thinking about her mile-long to-do list.

“Abbie would have loved something like that. She used to enjoy dancing. She’s always loved music.”

“What about you?” Kam said, shoving my shoulder with his. “You never talked about this place. I know you have terrible memories here, but most of the people here . . . they don’t seem too bad.”

“No,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest as I continued watching Abbie dance, spinning and clapping and stepping in tandem with the others. “Most of these people mean well. That’s the thing about small towns. Everyone knows everyone. If you’re the golden child who everyone loves,” I waved a hand towards Abbie, “they’d go to the ends of the earth to make sure you were successful. But if you don’t fit into their mold of what you’re supposed to do, then you’re on the outskirts.”

“Is that how it was for Imogen?”

I sucked in a breath. “That’s her story to tell, not mine.”

Kameron sighed deeply.

“Everyone keeps saying that, but Imogen is no closer to telling me anything about what happened before she came back here. All I know is that she was married for less than a year before she came back.”

“Take as much history as Abbie and her family have in Watford and double it. Imogen’s family practically built this town. Imogen has never fit the mold her parents wanted for her.”

Kam looked back at the girls. The song was drawing to a close, the line dance finished, and others swooped in, congratulating Abbie and Imogen on such a successful event. Abbie’s face was flushed, both from the dancing and the compliments, and I wanted nothing more than to kiss her until she was truly breathless.

“For a long time, I didn’t fit that mold either. I guess we have something else in common.”

That left no room for commentary. I knew Kam would come to me if and when he wanted to talk about it.

“Jesus Roosevelt Christ, it’s way too crowded in here. I can’t think,” Imogen said after weaving her way through the crowd. Kameron placed his hand on her low back to move her out of the way of a gentleman carrying a tray of shots.

“We made our official appearance,” Abbie said, releasing Imogen’s hand. “What if we snuck out and went back to the cabin or your place?”

“I’m good with either,” Imogen said, her face twisting into a grimace. “I’m pretty sure someone just spilled beer down my back, and I’m not keen to repeat that experience.”

A chorus of drunken shouts rung out from the dance floor.

“Definitely time to go,” Kameron agreed. Imogen walked toward the door, then hesitated, turning back to Abbie with a mischievous grin on her face.

“Why don’t the two of you go back to your condo,” Imogen said, gesturing to Abbie and Connor. “Kam can drive me back to the homestead. We’ll meet you for breakfast at Watley’s in the morning.”

I held my breath as I waited for Abbie to decide.

“That sounds great,” Abbie said, her voice unusually high pitched, even as she leaned back against me. Kam met my eyes, and I was glad to see he seemed back to his usual self.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he said, and clapped my back.

“There’s not much you won’t try at least once.”

“Exactly,” Kameron said, giving me a mock salute as he and Imogen stepped out into the cool autumn night.

“So . . . my place?” Abbie said, looking back over her shoulder as we stepped out onto the street.

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