Page 133 of The Lilac River

“Doesn’t matter,” Gunner answered before I could. “He knows exactly what Nash feels for Lily whether she’s with him or not.”

Wasn’t that the damn truth. My dad had always seen Lily as leverage. He could smell love like blood in the water and wield it like a blade.

“Okay,” I breathed out, rolling my shoulders back. My chest felt tight. “Let’s go.”

The door creaked as we pushed it open, and thirty heads turned toward us. The sudden hush in the room wasn’t just surprise, it was suspicion, curiosity, the sharp inhale of people sensing something was about to happen. We rarely attended town meetings, and everyone knew about the fractured relationship we had with our father.

We walked in single file with me leading the way, every step echoing like a drumbeat. My boots hit the wood floor with purpose. I scanned the rows until I spotted three empty seats about four rows from the front. I went first, letting Gunner and Wilder slide in before I took the aisle seat.

“Sorry, Mr. Mayor,” I said coolly, feeling his eyes slice through me. “Please continue.”

Dad’s glare burned into my skull, but I didn’t flinch.

Giving us one last look of condescension, he turned back to the room. “As I was saying before I was…” he sniffed dramatically, his lips twitching in disdain, “…interrupted, we must increase taxes on retail properties if we are to have enough money to run the town. Electricity for the holiday lights, refuse collection, street cleaning. All of it costs money.”

He looked pointedly at Joe Brubank, the hardware store owner and lifelong resident.

Joe stood, his face going red. “At the cost of a forty percent tax increase? Really?”

“Christ,” I muttered to Gunner under my breath. “Thank God we don’t have a retail business.”

“Believe me, Nash,” he murmured back, “he’s already taken more than forty percent from us.”

A commotion stirred at the back.

May Miller—no relation—stabbed a finger toward the podium. “Joe’s right! Maybe we should be asking if you, Mr. Mayor, are managing the town’s funds correctly!”

Dad’s face flushed beet red. He slammed his pen down so hard it skittered off the table and clattered to the floor.

“What exactly are you suggesting?” he barked, eyes wild.

The murmurs that followed were low but growing. A rumble of discontent rising like thunderclouds on the horizon.

“Shit,” Wilder muttered. “He’ll hang himself at this rate.”

And he would have. The room was turning. Ten solid minutes of townspeople standing up, one by one, each angrier than the last. Questions flew like arrows. Accusations followed. Even his loyal lapdog Duke Robinson looked nervous.

We couldn’t have scripted it better.

Finally, Duke banged his hand on the table, trying to corral the storm. “Any other business?”

Gunner nudged me with his elbow. “You’re up, big brother.”

Judith Larsen—the memorial garden caretaker—was halfway out of her seat, but I beat her to it, rising fast.

“Nash,” Dad said through gritted teeth, his voice oozing false calm. “Is there a valid reason for you being here? You do realize this meeting concerns town business, not ranch business?”

“I do,” I replied, voice calm, deliberate. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the crinkled receipt, unfolding it slowly. “This is about the creek.”

Dad frowned, confused but not yet worried. “As I said, that’s not really applicable to this meeting.”

Calvin Taylor stood up. He’d been briefed. Not fully, but just enough. “I think it is applicable, Mr. Mayor,” he said, voice clear and loud. “Seeing as we’re all waiting to hear if our water’s contaminated.”

That got the room.

The buzz was instant. People straightened in their chairs. Depending on the flow, it could go into the town water supply. Even if they didn’t drink from it directly, they still swam in it. They let their kids fish from it. This wasn’t just a ranch issue anymore.

Dad’s eyes flicked from face to face, assessing. He could feel the crowd turning on him. If he shut me down now, it would look like guilt. He knew it. I saw the exact moment he realized he couldn’t stop what was coming.

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