Chapter 4: Whiskey Wars and Broken Trust

As I left the party tent, I nearly bumped into Derek by the lemonade stand. He looked tired, hair a mess, his old letterman jacket slung over his shoulder.

His eyes darted around, searching for Aubrey in the crowd like he was hoping she’d show up and rescue him from this conversation.

"Why’d you take so long to change?"

I stepped back, folding my arms, raising my eyebrows. "What, were you looking for me? Or did you find whoever shot at me?"

He scuffed his sneaker on the flagstone, jaw tight. "You always make things more dramatic than they are."

"Fine, then where’s the one who ‘accidentally’ hit me? Did you catch her?"

He glanced over his shoulder, making sure Aubrey hadn’t slipped away. His embarrassment was almost cute if I hadn’t been so mad.

"It was Aubrey, from Silver Hollow. She’s always playing around. When she heard we were getting married, she wanted to see you. She didn’t mean any harm. How about I have her apologize—will that be enough?"

Lila’s kindness stuck in my mind. I let my anger cool for her sake. No reason to blow up at her party.

Back at the blanket, Aubrey was dozing in Derek’s navy hoodie. Her cheeks were sun-pink, hair a mess, hoodie sleeves covering her hands. Derek’s cologne clung to the fabric, unmistakable even from here.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes, looking straight past me to Derek. "Why are you so slow? Where’s my fried chicken?"

Derek produced a takeout box, still warm. He’d clearly gone out of his way. He handed it over, eyes softening as she dug in.

I watched, arms crossed tight like I was holding myself together. Even searching for me, he still brought her fried chicken. He always had a thing for saving people who didn’t deserve it.

He opened the box, smiled at her, then turned to me. "Okay, stop eating for now—" He patted her shoulder and gestured to me. "This is Natalie. You ruined her sunhat. Aren’t you gonna offer her a drink to apologize?"

Aubrey flashed a sly grin, tossing her hair. "Sorry, Miss Moore. I forgot girls from good families don’t play sports. Even a foam dart scares you. My bad."

She winked, pouring a slug of cheap whiskey into a red Solo cup. The smell hit me—burnt sugar and gasoline. She handed it over, eyes daring me.

Derek’s eyes begged me to just take it and let it go.

"All right, Natalie. For my sake, let’s drop it."

I took a sip. The whiskey burned all the way down, making me cough so hard my eyes watered. Someone snickered, “Lightweight.”

Aubrey’s laugh was sharp, delighted. "Oh, right. Good girls can’t handle liquor. My mistake."

She leaned in, voice dropping. "But don’t worry—I never miss my target."

I wiped my mouth, pride burning as much as the whiskey. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. Screw it. If this was how she wanted to play, I wasn’t backing down.

I tipped the cup and drained it, swallowing the fire, meeting her gaze with a steady smile. "All right, Aubrey, now it’s your turn."

She hesitated, then snatched the cup, downing it in one go. She looked cocky for half a second—then started choking, tears and snot running down her face.

A few people laughed, but the sound died quickly—nobody wanted to pick sides.

She glared at me, hiccuping and pounding Derek’s arm. "See? Your fiancée hates me. She did it on purpose!"

Derek wiped her face, then shot me a look so cold I could feel it in my bones. "Guess I never realized you could be this petty, Natalie."

His words hit like a slap. I sneered, thinking: when your heart is blind, you can’t see the truth if it’s staring you in the face.

Inside, I was numb. Derek cradled Aubrey, and I realized I didn’t have a single word left to say.