The kiss was good—okay, great—but it wasn’t smart.

She and Brady were a lie.

One with an expiration date.

Almost two weeks’ time.

After that lie served its time, Sloane would be back in Nashville—fingers crossed—way closer to realizing her dream, while Brady would still be at the bar, still living his. He would, hopefully, have more customers, and she, hopefully, would have a book deal.

That was it.

There were no other lies, plans, or festivals between them once she left.

Definitely no kissing in private.

Sloane decided to cut herself some slack that it had happened at all. Post-spider adrenaline. That’s what got me.

She rooted around in her partially unpacked suitcase to look for another hair tie and ignored the several other reasons she could have possibly wanted to kiss Brady. Reasons that had nothing to do with a spider. It wasn’t until she found the tie and flung her hair up into a messy ponytail that she remembered she hadn’t just left Brady back alone in the kitchen.

She’d left him with her older brother.

“Crap on a spatula!”

Sloane hurried back into the kitchen, unsure of what she’d find.

What she did caught her off guard.

Callum was the spitting image of their father, Art. Just as she had an uncanny resemblance to their mother, Stella. It had felt cruel for a year or two after the accident. In just the right light or when they weren’t fully paying attention, sometimes their brains would see one of their parents just standing or sitting around the house like nothing had happened. But then, as the years went on and they’d both accepted, subconsciously and otherwise, that their parents were truly gone, the uncanny resemblances had become more of a blessing.

Seeing Callum leaning against the kitchen counter, cup that was undeniably coffee in his hand, talking to Brady, Sloane couldn’t help but take a moment. It was like seeing her father again and, in a small way, like seeing her father meeting Brady. It made her feel warm, torn, and confused.

Would he have liked the brooding bartender? Sloane couldn’t help but wonder.

Just as she couldn’t help but wonder why she was wondering in the first place.

Callum turned to her and paused. She knew it in her bones that he’d had a flash of nostalgia, too. He gave her a small, small smile. The same one he’d given her on her sixteenth birthday, while taking pictures of her and her date right before prom, and when she had been standing in her graduation gown one room away, ready to find a place in the world outside of Arbor Bay. The I’m sorry they’re not here, but I am and I love you smile.

All at once, Sloane felt horrible.