Page 136 of Shattered Melodies

Jake nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “That’s rough, man. I’m sorry to hear it.” He paused, then added, “You know, if you need any help with security or anything for the event, just let me know. I can arrange for a deputy to be there, keep an eye on things.”

I felt a lump form in my throat. This was more than I’d ever expected from Jake. “Thanks,” I managed.

Jake shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable with the gratitude. “It’s nothing. Least I can do, really.” He hesitated, then added, “I’ll try to spread the word about the fundraiser. Can’t make any promises,.”

“No, yeah, of course,” I said quickly. “Anything you can do would be great.”

There was another awkward pause, neither of us quite sure how to end the conversation. Finally, Jake cleared his throat. “Well, I should probably get those two back to the station. You sure you’re okay here?”

I nodded, managing a small smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks again, Jake. Really.”

Jake gave me a nod and turned to leave, but then paused. “Hey, Caleb?”

“Yeah?”

Jake seemed to struggle with his words for a moment. “I know I’ve said it before, but… I’m sorry. For everything. Back in school, I mean. I was a real asshole.”

I felt a wave of emotions wash over me - surprise, confusion, a lingering hint of anger, but also understanding. Maybe even the beginnings of forgiveness. “Water under the bridge, man,” I said softly.

Jake’s shoulders seemed to relax slightly. He glanced back at his patrol car, where the Marley brothers were still fuming. “Some of us are still figuring it out, I guess.”

As Jake walked away, I found myself lost in thought. So much had changed, yet in some ways, Oakwood Grove was still the same small town it had always been. For better or worse.

I turned back to the community board, pinning up the last of my posters. Then I pulled out my phone, scrolling through the list my mom had sent. Seemed like half the ranch was coming to this fundraiser, and we’d need supplies. A lot of supplies.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here,” I mumbled, scanning the list. “Paper plates, cups, napkins… Jesus, how many people are we expecting?”

The local supermarket wasn’t far, just a quick drive down the main road. As I pulled into the parking lot, I couldn’t help but notice how busy it was for a weekday afternoon.

“Great,” I sighed, steeling myself for the crowd. “Just what I needed. More people.”

Despite my grumbling, I managed to navigate the aisles with relative ease. I’d grown up in this town, after all. I knew the layout of this store like the back of my hand.

As I loaded up my cart, I found my mind wandering back to Liam. I wondered how he was doing in New York, dealing with his parents and that big tech deal. A familiar ache settled in my chest, the kind that only seemed to ease when Liam was around.

By the time I made it to the checkout, my cart was overflowing. The cashier, a young girl I vaguely recognized from around town, raised an eyebrow at the haul.

“Big party?” she asked, starting to scan the items.

I managed a smile. “Something like that. Fundraiser for the ranch.”

The girl’s eyes lit up. “Oh yeah! I saw the posters in town. Sounds like it’s gonna be a big deal.”

“Here’s hoping,” I said, surprised by the genuine enthusiasm in her voice. “You planning on coming?”

She nodded eagerly. “Wouldn’t miss it. My dad’s been talking about it non-stop since he heard. Says it’s about time someone stood up to those big city banks.”

I blinked, taken aback. I hadn’t realized news of our financial troubles had spread so far. But before I could respond, the girl was handing me my receipt.

“Good luck with everything,” she said with a smile. “See you at the fundraiser!”

As I loaded the supplies into my truck, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. The town was rallying behind us in a way I never would have expected. It was… nice. Weird, but nice.

Just as I was about to climb into the driver’s seat, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Unknown number. I frowned, debating whether to answer. Could be someone calling about the fundraiser…

“Ah, what the hell,” I muttered, swiping to accept the call. “Hello?”

“Mr. Winchester?” a familiar voice came through the speaker. “This is Elijah Greene from the bank.”

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