Page 40 of Fixing to be Mine (Valentine Texas #5)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

STORMY

W hen I realize Colt remodeled this place himself, I’m honestly stunned. It’s gorgeous with its white picket fence, perfectly hung shutters, and manicured lawn.

A porch swing creaks gently in the breeze, wind chimes clink somewhere to the left, and that familiar smell of mesquite on a flame drifts from the backyard.

Remi opens the door before we knock. She grins and pulls me in without a word, hugging me like she’s known me for years instead of weeks.

“Wow, you both have that love look on your faces,” she announces. “Come in. Cash is in the back, barbequing.”

As soon as his name is said, he appears behind her, barefoot and relaxed. He pops two beers from the fridge and hands them to us.

“Y’all want cheese on your burgers?”

“Always,” I say.

“Right answer,” Cash says. “Anyone who doesn’t eat cheese on their burgers is?—”

“A monster,” Colt tells him.

“Lactose intolerant,” Remi interrupts with a laugh.

Colt’s hand brushes the small of my back as we walk through the living room toward the back door.

The space is tidy but casual. Blankets are draped over the couch, and a preseason football game is on mute in the background.

When we walk outside, the air is filled with mesquite smoke, laughter, and something sweeter I can’t quite place.

String lights crisscross the backyard, strung from the trees to the roofline.

They sway gently with the breeze, casting a soft golden glow over everything.

There’s a long wooden table set beneath them, mismatched chairs tucked around it, and Cash stands over the grill like a man who knows he’s about to feed an army even if there are only five of us.

Fenix is already out here, seated at the far end of the table, half twisting her long hair around one finger as she scrolls her phone with the other. She’s got that same quiet tension I’ve noticed the past few times I’ve seen her—like she’s trying to be anywhere but here without actually leaving.

She looks up, gives a half smile, then returns to her screen.

Remi’s behind us, setting a bowl of chips on the table. “Hope y’all are hungry. We made enough for a football team.”

Cash calls over, flipping burgers, “Don’t worry, babe. Colt eats like one.”

Colt grins and tips his bottle in Cash’s direction, then pulls out a chair for me. I settle in, but my eyes drift back to Fenix. Her shoulders are tense, and she hasn’t said a word.

The conversation picks up around me—Cash asking Colt something about fence repair, Remi making a joke about her mother’s group texts. But Fenix just quietly rises from her seat, phone still in hand, and slips inside without a word.

I count to ten before I follow.

The house is quiet again when I step through the back door.

I don’t call her name, just move slowly through the living room until I catch sight of her near the hallway, standing half in shadow by the bookshelf.

Her arms are crossed, phone pressed to her chest now like she’s changed her mind about whatever she was going to text.

She hears me approach, doesn’t turn. She gives me a small smile, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She’s wearing jeans and a black tee with a faded band logo on the front.

“I’m fine,” she says softly. “Just needed air.”

“You left the backyard to come inside,” I reply, keeping my tone even. “That’s not air.”

A beat of silence passes between us.

Fenix finally speaks again. “Have you ever felt like the version of you everyone sees is a total lie? Like they love this mask so much that they’d never survive seeing what’s underneath?”

My breath catches. “Yes.”

That one word seems to unravel her.

She blinks down at the floor, jaw tight, trying to hold something in.

Then she laughs, but it’s bitter and quiet.

“A while ago, I … met someone. It was supposed to be fun. Just something that didn’t matter.

But it got serious fast. Too fast. He made me feel like the real me was actually enough until the second I started believing it. ”

I don’t speak. I know she needs the space to express everything.

“We went our separate ways.” She presses her thumb hard against her temple. “It wasn’t just a breakup. It wrecked me. I dropped out of school. I told everyone I was bored, that it wasn’t the right fit. But really, I couldn’t stay there and pretend I wasn’t falling apart.”

The ache in her voice, the way she’s standing, like she’s still trying to hold herself together—I know that feeling. I’ve lived it.

“And I hate that I still feel everything. I don’t want to. I want to be over it. I want to not care. It’s almost been two years.”

I move closer, not touching her, just being there.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” I whisper. “I get it.”

She finally lifts her eyes to meet mine. There’s something raw there. And for the first time since I met her, I see her without any armor.

“I know who you are,” she says quietly. “I figured it out the second day I met you.”

My pulse spikes, but I don’t move. Don’t flinch.

“I haven’t told anyone. I won’t,” she says. “I just thought you should know that you’re not alone. People think they know everything. But they don’t. Sometimes, it’s the ones who stay quiet that understand the most.”

I nod slowly, and the pressure in my chest loosens just enough to breathe. “Thank you.”

She doesn’t smile, but her expression softens. “Your secret’s safe.”

“So is yours,” I tell her.

She slips past me, and I stand there for a second, staring at the space where she just was, knowing full well she didn’t name him.

Some heartbreaks don’t need names to leave scars.

If Colt finds out, Jace Tucker is a dead man.

I move to the bathroom and wash my hands, needing something to do. I look in the mirror, seeing my lips are swollen and cheeks pink, probably from the incredible sex Colt and I had before we arrived. After a deep breath, I return outside.

“Great! Everyone is back. Let’s eat!” Remi tells me, and I move to the chair next to Colt.

We exchange a look and he’s curious, but I give him a smile, interlocking my fingers with his.

We pass around paper plates and napkins as Cash begins sliding burgers onto buns, stacking them high with sharp cheddar and grilled onions. The conversation lifts again—light, easy, filled with laughter and teasing.

Colt hands me a plate like it’s second nature. His fingers brush mine for a beat too long, his thumb dragging gently across my skin before he pulls away. It’s subtle, but it steadies me. He’s watching me. He knows something isn’t okay. He won’t push, but he knows.

Fenix stays quiet. She returns to the table and takes her spot beside Remi, picking at her food more than eating it, but no one presses her either.

We fall into that familiar rhythm that comes with small-town dinners—stories retold, inside jokes traded like currency, another round of beers passed around before anyone finishes the first.

I’m halfway through my burger when Remi stands and disappears into the house. A minute later, she returns, waving a folded-up newspaper in the air.

“Y’all seen this yet?” she says, half laughing as she fans herself dramatically. “Colt, you’re famous again. You and Sunny made the front page.”

My stomach knots.

She unfolds the paper and lays it down in the center of the table like she’s just tossed a royal flush.

It takes me a second to understand what I’m looking at.

A full-color photo—me and Colt, mid-kiss at the bachelor auction.

My face is angled slightly, but not enough to stay hidden.

Colt’s smiling like he’s already won. I’m mid-step, caught between motion and surrender, hand in his.

VALENTINE GAZETTE

Record-Breaking Bachelor Auction Raises Over $30,000 for Shelter

The table erupts into light teasing. Cash whistles low. Fenix’s brow twitches. Colt glances down at the photo with a proud sort of smirk—until he looks at me.

I don’t say anything. I don’t move. I don’t breathe.

He watches the way I go still and how my smile drops a fraction of a second too soon.

Colt’s jaw tightens. Not with embarrassment, but recognition. He’s starting to understand what this means.

“Sunny?” Remi asks. “You okay?”

I force a laugh, folding the paper in half like it’s nothing. “Yeah. Just … wow. Didn’t expect that photo on the front page.”

Colt doesn’t speak, but he’s still watching me. He’s piecing it together.

Remi shrugs. “Small town. That kiss and the fundraiser—it’s all anyone is talking about in town. Every single conversation is about Sunny and Colt.”

“Of course,” I say, trying to keep my voice light. “It was one hell of a kiss.”

That earns a few whoops from around the table, but I can feel Colt’s hand slide to my thigh beneath the table. His fingers squeeze gently, grounding me.

I keep my smile on like armor and eat my chips one by one. I nod and sip my drink and pretend everything is perfect.

But Colt knows. He knows something’s wrong. And later, when the laughter fades and the food’s cleared, he’ll ask.

I squeeze his hand back, and he leans into me just slightly, as if to tell me I’m still here, but the storm’s getting closer.

And my location has been revealed.

The dread is already settling in the back of my throat, and I’m relieved to be going back to New York in two days.

I can’t allow this to ruin the night, so I push the thoughts away.

The conversation softens and our stomachs are full. The night is winding down, and Colt yawns.

“Dinner was incredible. Thank you so much for inviting us,” he offers.

“We’ll have to do it again.” Remi meets my eyes. “I’m so happy you’re still here.”

“Me too,” I say. “Thanks for hosting.”

Fenix stands and helps clean up the table. She walks inside, leaving the four of us alone.

Cash and Colt shake hands, and Cash pulls me into a side hug that smells like smoke and bourbon.

“Thanks for joinin’ us,” he says.

After we say our goodbyes several times, we walk through the house and leave.

The truck is quiet as we pull away from his sisters.

Colt drives one-handed, his arm stretched across the window frame. The cool night air slips in and tugs at my hair. He doesn’t say anything right away. We’ve gotten good at silence—comfortable with it even. But tonight, it sits heavier than usual.

“You’ve gone quiet,” Colt says finally. He glances over, not panicked.

“Being on the front page is bad,” I say.

He raises his brows. “That’s what’s got you twisted up?”

“It’s not just that it’s a photo of us. It’s the article. The headline. The money.” I pause. “People are already looking for me. This feels like a target.”

His smile fades.

I continue, “All it takes is one person finding this image of me online. Valentine might be small and safe, but the internet doesn’t work like that. That picture of us …” I shake my head, not sure how to finish, knowing more lies will be made up about me.

Colt keeps his eyes on the road.

“We’ll handle it,” he says. “Whatever comes next.”

I nod, but the anxiety streaming through me doesn’t loosen. “We have to leave Saturday morning, no matter what. Maybe we can get ahead of this.”

The farmhouse comes into view, porch light glowing warm and familiar. The gravel crunches under the tires as Colt eases the truck to a stop. Neither of us moves to get out right away.

I turn toward him. “I don’t know what will happen in New York. I don’t know what to expect.”

He studies me. “I’ll be right beside you through it all. We’ll ride out the storm together.”

That settles something inside me.

We step out into the dark and climb the porch together. Colt unlocks the door, and I follow him inside, my thoughts already spiraling.

I don’t know how close the past is, but it seems like it’s closing in on me.

Part of me wants to go online and search, but it’s best if I wait, as it might lead me down a spiral. It will do me no good tonight, and I need a clear mind tomorrow so I can come up with a plan.

I follow Colt down the hallway, the sound of our footsteps soft against the old wood floors. I break away from him and wash my hands in the bathroom, staring at my reflection.

I dry my hands slowly, bracing myself. Then I step out of the bathroom.

Colt’s waiting in the hallway, barefoot, backlit by the light leaking from our bedroom. He holds out his hand without a word. I take it. And this time, I don’t let go.

Tomorrow, we’ll pack, and then we’ll leave early on Saturday.

Whatever’s waiting for me on the other side of that city skyline, I’ll face it head-on. But tonight, I let myself rest. Not because everything’s okay or that my problems are fixed. But because, for once, I don’t have to face it alone.