𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐬 ━━ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥

ɴɪɴᴇ

chapter nine — walking disaster

The town square was alive with excitement, the air thick with anticipation and the faint scent of sun-warmed wood, grass, and sugared lemonade. Boothill and Y/N moved between the clusters of folding tables, decorations, and bustling townsfolk preparing for the Summer Solstice celebration.

Streamers fluttered in the gentle breeze, wildflowers adorned every corner, and strings of fairy lights hung like stars waiting to sparkle when dusk came. Somewhere nearby, a child laughed, chasing a dog with a ribbon in its mouth. The whole scene felt like it had been pulled from the faded corner of an old postcard—perfect, except for the mess Y/N kept making of it.

She reached for a bunch of ribbons perched precariously on a stool and managed to knock the entire basket to the ground with a loud clatter. Spools bounced and spun like startled beetles. Her cheeks flushed red.

"Oh my god," she muttered, dropping to her knees to gather them.

"Easy there, darlin'," Boothill said behind her, his warm voice masking the laughter he fought to hold back. He caught a runaway spool just before it rolled into the street. "Looks like the solstice is tryin' to test your patience."

Y/N looked up at him from where she crouched on the cobblestones, one ribbon spool clutched in each hand. "If I fail the test, do I get smited or something?"

"Nah, you'd just owe the mayor's niece a new set of peach-coloured ribbons."

Y/N laughed in spite of herself, and Boothill grinned, that easy, sun-drenched her wore like a second skin. As she stood, brushing her knees off, she tripped over the corner of a crate of decorations. She stumbled forward with a startled yelp—straight into Boothill's arms.

He caught her without flinching, one hand steady at her waist.

"I'm like a walking disaster today," she groaned. "It's like gravity's got it out for me."

"Well, lucky for you, I'm on good terms with gravity." Boothill grinned. "I'll have a word."

She tried not to smile. Tried not to feel how solid he was beneath her hands or how he didn't let go till she'd caught her balance again. The summer air pressed close, tinged with humidity, and Boothill's proximity only made it worse. Or better. She wasn't sure.

Earlier that morning, she'd nearly talked herself out of coming—nearly broke her promise to help with the preparations. She dropped her toothbrush on the floor, splattering toothpaste all over the bathroom, spilled water over her phone, and stubbed her toe so hard she'd cursed loud enough for Betty to hear at the front desk.

But when Boothill had shown up at the B&B, two iced coffees in hand and wearing a crooked smile, she couldn't say no.

As they hung a strand of flower garland across a wooden arch, Y/N glanced at the bright scene around her. "Boothill, what's all this really about? The solstice, I mean. Besides just partying and giving me new ways to embarrass myself."

"It's the longest day of the year. Around here, we use it to let go of old things. Old mistakes. Old heartbreak. We eat, we dance, we burn a big bonfire and tell it to take what we're done carryin'." He looked at her, soft and grounded. "It's about makin' space for somethin' better."