Chapter thirteen
Emma
The Ocean Bay Community Center is alive with chatter, laughter, and the occasional bark from the portable pet wash station outside. The scent of freshly baked goods mingles with the salty breeze drifting through the open doors. Every table is brimming with donations, cookies, cupcakes, raffle items all the results of four weeks of planning.
And somehow… it worked. I blink at the turnout, a strange mix of awe and disbelief twisting in my chest. I did this. Or at least, I helped make it happen.
“You okay?” Stella nudges me, balancing a tray of lemonade cups. “You’re just standing there looking like you saw a ghost.”
I exhale, shaking my head. “I just… I didn’t expect this many people.”
She grins. “Well, believe it. Because it’s happening.”
And she’s right. Everywhere I look, there are people, locals, volunteers, even some unfamiliar faces all here to support the clinic. Some are browsing the bake sale, others are standing by the raffle table, reading the prize list. Kids chase Buddy near the pet wash, giggling as he happily dodges the water sprays.
Claire, Pearl and Stella have been immense help. And above all Bryan has been surprisingly supportive over the past four weeks. Our interactions aren't as strained as before.
And then as if on cue… I see him. He’s near the entrance, arms folded, posture easy, eyes scanning the crowd like he’s taking it all in. He hasn’t left since he arrived early this morning, unloading crates of water and supplies. But now, he’s watching me.
Something flickers in my chest, something I try to ignore as I force myself to look away before I do something stupid. Like walk over to him. Like care that he’s here.
Before I can dwell on it, a familiar voice calls out loud, teasing. “Alright, alright, where’s the woman of the hour?”
I turn to see Nate and Liam heading toward me, both smirking.
"Hi guys. I’m so happy you made it,"
"Bryan would have our heads if we didn't come, and we came to support you and to give you this,” Liam says as Nate holds out an envelope.
Oh no. I gape at them. “Well, thank you. Thank you both so much.”
"You're welcome, and it's a little token to support you and the amazing goal you’re working toward.”
I accept it and gape when I see the amounts on the two checks. "Oh, my goodness, this is a lot, too much. I don't think I can accept this." I stretch the envelope back toward them, but Nate waves his finger. “Sorry, no refunds.”
Liam chuckles. “He’s right. Once the checks are written, it’s out of our hands.”
I stare at them, my stomach twisting. “This is too much.”
“It’s exactly what you need,” Nate corrects, then smirks. “Consider it payment for helping mess with Bryan.”
This brings a laugh from all of us. Liam nods. “Yeah, think of it as a thank you for coming back to town.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Bryan steps up beside me, arching a brow. “Just take it, Em.”
I whip around, narrowing my eyes. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?” His lips twitch, but he doesn’t confirm or deny. Nate claps him on the back. “I mean, he was very convincing.”
I don’t know what to say. My throat tightens, my heart hammering with too many emotions at once.
Bryan, as if sensing my hesitation, speaks quietly. “This is for your clinic. You've always dreamed of this.”
His words hit deeper than I expect. I exhale, finally taking the envelope. “Thank you. Thank you, both.”
Nate grins. “That’s what we like to hear.”
Liam gives me a wink before stepping away, and before I can process anything further, Stella swoops in, pulling me into a hug.
“You did it!” she beams. “And don’t even try to thank me. This is all you.” I shake my head. “I couldn’t have done it without everyone here.”
She pulls back, winking. “Well, we all knew you could.”
Another wave of emotion swells in my chest, but before I can get completely caught up in it, Stella nudges me toward the makeshift stage.
“Speech time.”
Oh. Right .
My pulse kicks up a notch, but I push through the nerves as I step onto the platform. The microphone crackles as I adjust it, and suddenly, every eye in the room is on me. I can do this.
I clear my throat. “First, I need to thank a few people. Stella, Claire, Pearl, you three have been my backbone through all of this.” Scattered applause fills the room, Pearl dabbing at her eyes in the front row.
I swallow, and my gaze unintentionally flickers back to Bryan. He’s still watching me, still holding that unreadable look, and I hate that my heart stumbles over itself. “And…” My voice catches. “Bryan.”
His jaw twitches slightly. “Thank you,” I say softly. He doesn’t move, doesn’t react much at all. But I see it. The way his fingers curl slightly, the way his chest rises and falls in a deeper breath.
Turning back to the crowd, I focus. “This clinic,” I say, voice stronger now, “is for Ocean Bay. For every animal that deserves care. For every pet owner who shouldn’t have to drive miles away for treatment. For every stray that needs a second chance.”
A murmur of agreement spreads through the room. I grip the mic tighter. “And, personally? It’s for me. Because I lost my cat, Whiskers, when I was ten. We didn’t have the resources we needed here. And I promised myself that one day, I’d change that.”
I continue with my speech over the next few minutes as applause erupts, with cheers and whistles ringing through the air. “And folks, I want to especially thank another man who has given so much of his life to all the towns around here, including Ocean Bay and its animals. The fact that Doc Wheeler from Laylow Bay is here supporting my cause makes me feel so blessed. Will you all raise your hands to this wonderful man?"
I step off the stage after thanking everyone else for their support. Stella immediately throws her arms around me. “You killed it!”
I laugh, tension easing slightly. But as I scan the room, I find Bryan still standing where he was before. Still watching. Still here.
And for some reason, seeing him fills me with an unexplainable joy.
***
The community center is quieter now, the chatter and excitement of the day fading into the hum of the ocean just beyond the doors. Most of the volunteers have packed up, leaving behind half-stacked chairs and scattered raffle tickets littering the floor.
I tug off my apron, dusting flour from the front, and stretch my sore arms. My body hums with exhaustion, but my heart is still racing from today’s turnout. From him.
Bryan. And yes, he’s still here.
I hesitate in the doorway of the back room, spotting him near a stack of crates, sweeping … sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy, movements steady. He doesn’t look like a billionaire, like the man who built an empire. Right now, he looks… calm, effortless. Just a guy doing his part, grounding himself in something simple. Why is he still here?
Buddy is sprawled near a pile of donation boxes, his tail flicking in lazy contentment. He barely lifts his head when I step closer.
“Didn’t expect you here still,” I say, voice light, masking the sudden tightness in my chest.
Bryan glances up mid-sweep, one brow lifting. “Just about to leave.” That’s it. That’s all he says.
I almost roll my eyes. Of course, he wouldn’t just say that he just wanted to stay and see this through with me. But I feel it. It’s there, between the unspoken words, the way he’s still sweeping long after everyone else has left.
I move closer, feeling oddly shy despite everything. “Thanks,” I say softly. “For everything. It meant more with you here.”
The broom stills in his hands. His green eyes lift to mine, steady, warm. And my pulse stumbles.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The air shifts, thickens, charged with something neither of us is willing to name. He’s close enough that I catch his scent, cedar and salt air, grounding, familiar. A warmth I haven’t let myself lean into for years. Too close.
I need to pull back. But instead, I step forward. And before I can overthink it, I hug him. It’s instinct, a rush of gratitude, of emotion too big to hold in. I expect him to stiffen, to hesitate. For one agonizing second, he does.
Then he exhales, his arms coming around me. His body is warm, solid, the press of him against me sending a wave of hot memories crashing through my defenses. He smells the same, feels the same, and for a fleeting second, it’s like nothing has changed.
Except everything has. We pull apart slowly. My breath is unsteady, my heart knocking hard against my ribs.
“Sorry,” I murmur, voice unsteady. “I just… I got emotional. You’ve supported me from the start of this, and I…”
Bryan shakes his head, cutting me off. “Don’t apologize. Besides, I've not done much.”
His voice is lower now, rougher. There’s something unreadable in his eyes, something too much.
I look away, needing space, needing air. “You don’t have to do anything else,” I tell him, stepping back. “You’ve done more than enough these past few weeks.”
Bryan exhales, raking a hand through his hair. “I still have a donation to give.”
I blink. “Bryan…”
“We had a deal,” he reminds me. “If the fundraiser didn’t work, I’d step in. It did work. But I still want to contribute.”
I shake my head, heart twisting. “You’ve already done so much.”
“Not enough,” he says simply. His voice is so calm, so certain, that it steals the argument right from my lips.
I try again. “Bryan…”
“I believe in you, Emma.” My breath catches.
He steps closer, his gaze locked on mine, unwavering. “Your dreams. This clinic. I believe in it. And I’m going to support you every step of the way.”
His words knock the air from my lungs. For a second, I forget how to speak. The intensity in his voice, the raw truth behind it, it’s everything.
It’s the words I never thought I’d hear from him again. The kind of faith I had lost after leaving him years ago. My throat tightens. I should say something. Thank you, I appreciate it, I’m grateful. But my lips part and nothing comes out.
Because this? This means something. This means everything. Then, my phone buzzes. The moment shatters like glass hitting pavement.
I blink, reality crashing back into place. My fingers tremble as I dig the phone out of my pocket and glance at the screen. My stomach plummets. The message is short, clipped, and enough to ruin everything. Your deadline is up. We expect payment by tomorrow. No extensions.
Cold washes through me, drowning out the warmth from moments ago. No, no, no. I had more time. I was supposed to have more time. I swallow hard, forcing my face into something neutral as I shove the phone back into my pocket.
Bryan frowns, immediately noticing my shift. “What’s wrong?”
Everything .
“Nothing.” I shake my head, stepping back. “I just…” My voice catches. I exhale. “I have to go.”
Bryan watches me, eyes narrowing slightly. He doesn’t believe me. He never did when I lied.
But right now? I can’t talk about it. Not when the walls I’ve spent weeks rebuilding are threatening to crumble. Not when the weight of everything suddenly feels unbearable.
So, I turn before he can press, forcing my feet to move, forcing myself away from the man who somehow still sees too much.
And for the first time today, I feel utterly alone.