“Ren, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry.” I wave my hand. “This was not how this conversation was supposed to go. Give me a second.” I take a few deep breaths as he squeezes my hand for reassurance. When I feel like I’ve finally calmed down, I look him in the eyes again. “I had lunch with two teachers today, and they told me something personal about you, something that wasn’t fair for them to say or for me to listen to.”

He sits up straight, his grip on my hand loosening. “What did they say?”

Nerves bubble up in my stomach again, and from the way he’s immediately put distance between us, I can tell this might have been a mistake. But there’s no turning back now.

I nibble on my inner cheek, contemplating how I want to say this. I think touching upon the curse is ridiculous. After all, I don’t believe it. But the information about his wife? He should know I know.

“They, um . . . they told me that you were married.”

At that, his hand leaves mine completely, and his body goes stiff. He turns away from me, and I quickly continue before he can drum up any ideas in his head.

“They told me you tragically lost her a few years ago.” I press my hand to his thigh to comfort him, but he shudders beneath my touch, standing abruptly. I do the same and stand in front of him, not giving him a chance to flee. “I’m so sorry, Griffin. I can’t—”

“I have to get back to work.” He starts to move past me, but I press my hand against his chest.

“Please.” I choke on my words, tears ready to fall from my eyes. “Please don’t be mad. I’m sorry. I had no idea they were going to tell me that. It’s something I should have heard from you.”

Body still stiff, he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down. “Well, that’s Port Snow for ya. You get the good and the bad. But now you know . . . so no need for me to say anything.”

I want to hold him, to cry with him, to tell him how sorry I am that he had to go through something like that, but I don’t get a chance, as he pushes past me.

“Griffin . . .”

“Don’t worry about it, Ren.” He pauses but refuses to meet my gaze. “It’s not a big deal, but thanks for telling me you know. I’ll, uh . . . I’ll see you around.”

And with that, he walks past his brothers and back into the shop. I feel even worse than before. With a sigh, I sit back down on the rock wall and cradle my head in my hands. What a mess. Here I thought I was doing a good thing by talking to him, and instead, I drove a wedge between us.

“You okay?” I look up to find all three brothers standing over me, a concerned look on each of their faces.

I nod and wipe away my tears. “Yup. Fine.”

Not wanting to stay here and hash everything out, I grab my purse and go to stand, but Brig gently pushes down on my shoulder, making it almost impossible to go anywhere. “You’re not fine. Nice try, though. What happened?”

“Do we need to knock some sense into our brother?” Reid asks, stepping in.

“We’re not opposed to it,” Rogan adds, surprising me with the sincerity in his voice.

I shake my head. “He didn’t do anything wrong. He’s just upset, I think.”

“Why?” Brig asks.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady the quiver in my voice. “Some girls at work told me about his wife and how he lost her. It was personal information, so I wanted to let Griffin know I knew. I thought it was important.”

“And what did he say?” Rogan asks.

“Just that it’s what to expect when living here, and thanks for letting him know. He wasn’t happy. I feel . . . stupid for saying anything.”

Reid and Rogan exchange a meaningful glance while Brig pats my shoulder. “Don’t feel stupid, Ren. You did the right thing.”

Rogan continues, “He doesn’t talk about it much, so it probably took him by surprise. I’m sure he wanted to be the one who told you. Let him cool off a bit; he’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know . . .”

“Trust us.” Reid steps in. “He’ll be fine. In the meantime, why don’t you join us this weekend? The camping club is having their final summer campout, and it’s going to be a lot of fun—hot dogs, fishing, two days of wilderness. Plus, there are campground bathrooms with running water. We’ll be talking about the Lobster Fest, tossing some final ideas around before securing our booths. You could help us brainstorm.”

“Great idea,” Brig says, a sly look in his eyes. “Beck and Rylee will be there. It’ll be a lot of fun.”

“I don’t know.” I wipe a tear, feeling weird about the sudden change in conversation. “I don’t have any camping gear.”

“Don’t need it—we’ll have everything. You can catch a ride with Rylee and Beck. Just bring clothes and tons of marshmallows.”

“Clothes and marshmallows? That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Brig joins his other two brothers, all three of them with their hands in their pockets; they look so much like Griffin that I can’t help but smile.

“As for Griffin, just give him a little time; he’ll come around,” Reid says.

I glance over at Rogan, who nods in agreement, and it’s his confirmation that finally comforts me. Give him some time, go camping—I think I can do that.

Maybe some time away is exactly what I need.

“Okay. I’ll go camping. I’ll text Rylee to find out when they’re leaving.”

Identical smiles spread across Reid’s and Brig’s faces. “Perfect. We’ll see you Saturday, then.”

And with that, they all walk away, the same breadth in their shoulders and gait in their walks. It’s such a shame that the town believes in this ridiculous curse—the Knightly brothers really are quite a catch.

I sit cross-legged on my couch after a nice, long shower and a good exfoliation. I scrubbed every inch of my body, letting the heat of the water soak into my pores. I felt refreshed and much better afterward, like I washed the day off me.

I picked up some of Oliver’s ice cream on the way home, and now that I’m clean, lotioned, and dressed in my heart pajama pants and pink tank top, I cue up The Wedding Singer. I need a good laugh.

The movie starts, and I scoop up a big spoonful of my strawberry-cheesecake ice cream. I’m about to shove it in my mouth when there’s a knock at the door. I glance toward the front window, trying to catch who it is through the glass, but I can’t get the right angle to see.

With a sigh, I pause the movie, set down my ice cream, and walk over to the entryway, where I open the door to find Griffin standing on my porch, head hanging low, hands in his pockets.

He glances up, his eyes going straight to mine, sending a flash of heat through me. Even when he seems upset, he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.

He grips the back of his neck and clears his throat. “Uh, hey. I have to head out to my shift at the fire department, but I wanted to stop by really quickly and tell you sorry about earlier. You just caught me off guard.”

“No need to apologize, Griffin, it’s my fault—”

He shakes his head. “It’s not your fault. Gossip comes with the territory of living here; I should have seen it coming. I just wish I’d told you myself, that’s all. But there’s no point dwelling on it. What’s done is done.”

Why does it feel like when he says done, he means something else—like our friendship or whatever has been brewing between the two of us—is done?

I shift on my feet and grip the doorknob, nervous to hear his answer to my next question. “Are we okay? I don’t want things to be weird between us.”

“They won’t be.”

“Promise?”

He nods and takes a step back. “Promise.” He lifts his hand and waves. “I’ll see you around, Ren. Have a good night.”

My heart plummets as he turns to walk away. For some reason, I thought that maybe he would at least give me a hug, but as I watch his retreating back, I realize that his promise holds no weight.

I’m pretty sure everything has changed between us . . . with one simple whisper of gossip.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

GRIFFIN

“When did Rylee and Beck say they were going to get here?” I ask Reid and Brig just as they finish setting up their tent. Mine was done ten minutes ago, no thanks to my brothers. Reid and Brig should never be left alone to do anything.

“Beck texted about half an hour ago saying they left.”

“Okay, so they should be here soon.” I scan the campground, making sure everything is set up.

Camping chairs around the campfire—check.

Firewood stacked and ready to go—check.

Cooking utensils set up on the picnic table—check.

Rylee and Beck are bringing the food, so we should be good.

Normally we have a larger camping group, but this weekend didn’t work out with a lot of people, so it’s a small crew this go-around. Which is fine with me—the less I have to make small talk, the better.