Page 16

“I can’t believe that” Molly says, shaking her head in disbelief as she swirls the water in her glass casually.

Her fingers clutch the cup tightly, and the soft clink of ice against the sides fills the pause after I just unloaded on my friends everything that happened earlier today at the Mayberry Manor.

Molly’s only a month or two along in her pregnancy but she’s not showing yet, and the town doesn’t know, so I’ve made her a simple water with lime to distract any nosey patrons who might be eaves dropping on our conversation tonight.

“I can,” Lydia chimes in from the seat next to her at the bar. She tips her Sprite toward her lips as I lean over the counter to top it off.

Lydia never drinks, which is ironic considering how much time she spends at my family’s bar, keeping me company while I work or indulging in her favorite pastime—talking to people in our small town about every topic she can think of.

She’s the friendliest person I’ve ever met, and maybe that’s because she has to be.

Being the reverend’s daughter comes with expectations: constant goodness, endless grace, and a bubbly personality.

I can only imagine the weight of that kind of scrutiny.

“Mrs. Mayberry is always into something,” Lydia adds with a knowing smile. “You should hear the stories she tells when we’re folding programs before Sunday service.”

I sigh, pressing my elbows into the worn oak of the bar top and my head in my hands.

It’s a packed Thursday night, and despite having plenty of staff working, I volunteered to help.

Not because we’re shorthanded. No, I’m here because I’m sad.

So damn sad about everything. And if I wasn’t pouring drinks, I’d be on the other side of the bar, drowning in them.

Though, let’s be honest, I’m halfway there anyway.

I reach under the counter, grab a shot glass, and slam it down on the wood.

Filling it with what’s left of our holiday whiskey—the kind we only bring out for Christmas despite it being spring now—I knock it back in one smooth, desperate motion.

The burn sears its way down, and I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

“I’m just so disappointed.”

Molly nods, her face a mix of sympathy and helplessness.

“We know,” she says softly. “We’re sorry, babe.

Seriously, this sucks.” There’s a pause, and I already know what’s coming next.

I can see it in the way she hesitates, like she doesn’t want to say it and knows I’m going to hate it, but feels obligated to anyway.

“Are you sure you don’t want Colt and me to step in and buy it for you? ”

I bite down on my lip, hard enough to draw a tiny bead of blood that I quickly lick away.

I’ve got one week—one measly week— to figure out how to buy that property without getting married.

If I can’t, it’ll go to some random couple from Charlotte, and that thought twists my gut.

It’s the worst-case scenario, though letting Colt and Molly buy it because I can’t isn’t much better.

Still, if it came down to them or strangers who don’t love the land the way I do, I’d choose them.

I respect them, I love them, and I know they’d do it for me without hesitation.

But the idea feels like giving up and I’m not ready to quit just yet.

I groan, resting my forehead in my palm. “I have a week... just give me a week, please.”

Molly leans over, her piercing blue eyes softening as she pats my hand. “You know I love you, right? You’re my sister, and I would do anything for you and your happiness.”

I nod. “I know.”

Her phone buzzes on the bar, breaking the moment. She flips it over, and my twin brother’s face lights up the screen. Her lips curl into a smile as she swipes to answer. “Hey, baby... Oh, you’re done already? Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen.”

She hangs up, sliding her phone back into her bag before turning to me. “Do you mind closing out my tab?”

I wave her off, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.

“You know it’s always on the house.” We’d never charge her.

She’s family. And I already know she and my brother are saving up now that a baby’s on the way.

I’m so damn happy for her. Really, I am.

But knowing my own fertility struggles might rear their head someday?

It never gets easier hearing that someone else is living your dream.

She grins, grabbing her purse. “Thanks.”

“Do you have a ride?”

She nods her head. “Lydia’s dropping me off on her way home.”

When Lydia gets up to pay, I push her card right back toward her. “Seriously, Lydia?” I laugh.

She rolls her eyes but smiles. Lydia moved to town when I was twenty-two and had just gotten back from Arkansas. Her dad took over as the preacher for our small town and the only church here, and even though she’s two years younger than me, we’ve been close ever since.

When Colt was unexpectedly sent away to prison two years later, I felt like my world was falling apart.

Lydia and my older cousin stepped in to help Cash with the hens and the distillery until I was able to pull myself together enough to manage things on my own in his absence.

I consider her to be like family too and would never charge her a dime.

“Thanks, babe. I’ll see you soon.”

I nod, watching her leave as I wipe down the counter. When I’m finished, I feel the familiar buzz under my skin to keep busy so that I don’t spiral. Grabbing a plate of food that’s ready from the kitchen, I run it out, hoping to distract myself.

I could head home now, maybe check on my older brother Cash and his new batch of baby chicks at the egg farm.

He’s been up to his elbows since the latest ones arrived for the season.

This is his busy time of the year and there’s no shortage of work.

But knowing him and Rae, they’re probably holed up together, making out, and I don’t want to invade their happiness with my grumpy mood.

Sometimes I feel like an outsider in my own family.

Troy’s in Raleigh with his wife Georgia and their new baby.

Cash and Rae are wrapped up in their own world, building their new house on the farmstead and making out constantly.

Colt and Molly have each other just like they always have.

That just leaves me and my older brother Lawson single and lonely.

Except Lawson’s always gone. Always traveling for the family business, marketing plans, sales pitches, making sure everything runs smooth as butter. It’s what he does for our family. And I miss him even more at times like these when I feel so damn... alone.

Grabbing a towel, I wipe my hands and pull out my phone, firing off a text to him.

Regan : Hey Law. I miss you.

He calls immediately. Of course, he does. I sigh, rolling my eyes as I answer.

“Hello, big brother.”

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice stern.

I laugh softly. “Yes. Can’t a little sister miss her big brother sometimes?”

He exhales long and slow, like hearing from me scared him.

Lawson’s seven years older than me. Steady.

Quiet. The kind of man who feels everything but rarely lets it show.

He’s got a thirteen-year-old son, my nephew, Beckham, but he never married Beckham’s mom.

That was a mutual decision, the kind that surprises people when they hear it wasn’t messy, and they are both happier this way.

They always said they made better coparents than partners, and honestly?

They’ve proved it. They’ve been solid from day one, raising Beckham with more love and teamwork than most married couples I know.

Melissa still lives here in town, happily remarried to a good man who’s as much in Beckham’s life as Lawson is.

No tension. No drama. Just a weirdly functional modern family who blends together nicely and Lawson’s been single ever since, the way he says he prefers.

Truth is, I can’t remember the last time I heard his name linked with anyone.

Not even in passing. No late-night dates, no casual flings, nothing that ever stuck long enough to raise eyebrows.

It’s like he chose solitude on purpose. Like part of him got frozen in place the moment everything changed, and he found out he was becoming a father.

“You can miss me. I miss you too. But maybe don’t text me after a week of silence with something like that. I got worried.”

I bite my lip, nodding even though he can’t see me. “I know.” I head toward the back office of the bar, looking for some peace and privacy while I talk to him. “Lawson... I’m… I’m sad.”

He’s quiet for a beat. “I know. Colt told me what happened about Mrs. Mayberry’s place.”

I blow out a breath. “I wanted it so fucking bad. It felt like I had it.” I sink into the cracked leather chair at the desk in the back. “She would have sold it to me, too.”

“I know you did. We all wanted it for you. It would’ve been a great venture for the family, but Regan, it’s not about that. We wanted it because it’s your dream. Always has been.”

Tears prick at my eyes, and I swipe at them quickly. Silly, I tell myself. Pull it together. He can’t see you, and knowing Lawson, if he knows I’m crying he’d probably fly home to comfort me and abandon whatever important meeting he’s about to walk into.

“I’m going to figure it out,” I say, my voice a little stronger than I feel.

“I know you are. I heard Declan proposed.”

“God, no one in this family can keep a secret.”

“I’m glad you told him no,” he says without missing a beat.

That surprises me. “I thought you liked him?”

“He was a nice enough guy, but he didn’t make you happy. Not the way you deserve. The one for you is out there, Regan. We’d never want you to settle for a guy who’s just okay.”

“Thanks… I know. Same for you, you know?”

He chuckles, low and soft. “I don’t think so. Marriage might be a dream for you, but it’s not for me.”

I press my lips together, nodding. “I’m going to let Colt and Molly buy it if I can’t figure something out in a week.”

“You mean convince Mrs. Mayberry to sell it to you anyway?”

I shrug. “I guess… I don’t know.”

“Well, don’t see it as a loss if they do. It’ll still be your business.”

But it wouldn’t really be mine. The name on the deed would be Colts’. I hold that thought back.

“Where are you right now?” I ask, shifting the conversation before the knot in my chest tightens any more.

“Phoenix. Hot as hell, but it’s been good. I had an interview this morning for the news here where all I did was talk about Cash and his chickens.”

“You really like being on the road that much?”

“Keeps me busy. Distracted. No time to sit and think when you’re always on the move.”

I nod because I understand that better than our other siblings probably do.

“Okay. Gotta go. Love you,” I say quickly, cutting the call short before my voice cracks and the tears start again.

“Call me anytime, Regan. Love you.”

When I hang up, I wipe my hands down my pant legs, my skin raw from over-washing.

Catching my reflection in the small office mirror, I sigh and fix my makeup, smudging out the faint traces of mascara where my eyes watered earlier.

My t-shirt and ripped jeans feel like a disguise, with the family brand splashed across my chest like a banner that’s supposed to say I’ve got it all together because I’m a Marshall .

But tonight, it feels like a mask—one that I’m wearing to keep from falling apart.

Maybe I shouldn’t be letting the loss of a property that was never really mine affect me this deeply, but this was never about a house for me. It was about a dream.

I turn on my heel, deciding to call it a night and head home. Perhaps sleep will help me think of a new plan. But the second I step out of the office, the noise from the bar hits me like a wave.

It’s louder than when I left a few minutes ago. People are hollering, clapping, the music is cranked up, the kind of energy that means something’s happening. I glance toward the crowd, my curiosity sparking as I crane my neck to see what the commotion’s about. And then I see him.

Freaking Hayes Walker in my family’s bar.

He’s soaking in the attention, all charm and swagger in a dark black shirt, his light brown hair mussed under a baseball cap brim, as people clap him on the back and cheer like he just won the lottery.

He works his way through the crowd, his easy smile setting everyone at ease until he lands on an open stool at the bar.

One of my servers starts toward him, ready to take his drink order, but I stop her with a quick shake of my head.

“I’ll get this one,” I say, sliding back behind the bar.

She nods, shooting me a knowing wink before walking away.