Page 116 of Small Town Sizzle

I feel a lump rise in my throat, my grip tightening on the strap of my bag. Garrett’s words echo in my mind, filling me with a renewed sense of purpose.

I step forward, my heart pounding as I prepare to interrupt the proceedings and present the evidence that could change everything. But just as I open my mouth to speak, the judge’s gavel comes down, and she announces a brief recess.

The room erupts into murmurs, and Garrett turns, his eyes scanning the crowd until they land on me. For a moment, we just stare at each other, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between us.

And then the chaos swallows us whole.

Chapter Forty-Three

Garrett

How are we even here right now? How is this case being taken seriously?

My mind reels as Natalie sits at the plaintiff’s table, her perfectly manicured hands resting on a stack of documents she somehow convinced people were legitimate. The nerve of her, sitting there as if she owns the damn place, while her lies are so flimsy they should’ve collapsed under the weight of their own ridiculousness weeks ago.

I glance around the packed room, searching the faces of people I’ve known my whole life. Some look angry, others confused, but too many of them… too many are buying into this. I can see it in their eyes—the doubt, the hesitation. It twists my stomach into knots. How can they not see through her? It’s court record that Natalie and I are divorced, and yet she’s telling everyone we’re still married. Yet here we are, wasting time on this farce.

And that letter. God, that absurd, fabricated letter.

“She was like a daughter to me, and I want her to have the land.”

Those were the words Natalie claims my mother wrote, conveniently found among her so-called personal effects. Never mind that my mother was meticulous, bordering on obsessive, with her paperwork. Never mind that she’d rather have donated her land to a multinational corporation drilling for oil than give it to Natalie or anyone remotely connected to her. None of it makes sense, yet somehow, Natalie’s attorney convinced the court to hear her argument.

I force myself to breathe, clenching and unclenching my fists as her lawyer drones on about Natalie’s “close relationship” with my mom. Every word is like sandpaper against my nerves. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

My mother hated her. Natalie hated my mother.

My stomach flips, a knot of emotions tightening in my chest—relief, hope, something that feels a lot like longing when I turned to see Maya in the courtroom after my speech.

I’ve been so focused on fighting for the youth center, for the wetlands, for the future of this town, that I didn’t let myself think about how much I’ve missed her.

Before I know it, I’m moving toward her, weaving through the crowd like a magnet drawn to its opposite pole. When I reach her, I don’t even hesitate. I pull her into my arms, holding her tight against me.

She doesn’t resist. If anything, she melts into me, her hands clutching the back of my jacket like she’s afraid to let go.

“Garrett,” she whispers, her voice a mix of emotions I can’t quite place.

And then I kiss her.

It’s not hurried or desperate, but it’s full of everything I’ve been holding back—apologies, promises, the words I’ve been tooscared to say out loud. Her lips are warm and soft, and for a few seconds, nothing else in the world matters.

When she finally pulls back, her eyes shine, her cheeks flush. But instead of speaking, she turns to Mike, who’s standing a few feet away with a look of utter confusion.

“I found it,” she says breathlessly, digging into the bag slung over her shoulder.

“Found what?” Mike asks, stepping closer.

Maya pulls out a thick folder, the edges worn, and hands it to him with a triumphant smile. “Everything. The proof. It’s all here.”

Mike’s eyes widen as he flips through the papers, his face going pale as realization dawns. “Maya, this… this is—”

“It’s what we need,” she says, cutting him off. “It’s enough to shut this whole thing down.”

Before he can respond, the judge’s gavel cracks sharply against her desk, signaling the end of the recess. We all hurry back to our seats, and I shoot Maya one last look before I sit down. She nods, her expression determined, and my chest swells with pride.

Mike steps forward, clutching the folder like it’s a lifeline. “Your Honor, before we proceed, I have new evidence to present to the court.”

Natalie’s lawyer immediately stands, sputtering objections about late submissions and procedural violations, but the judge silences him with a sharp glare. “Let’s see it,” she says, gesturing for Mike to approach.

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