Page 56 of By Your Side
Back at the shop, Dad was leaning on the counter, flipping through a parts catalog. He didn’t look up when he said, “Heard you were at the tavern late last night.”
I froze mid-step. “From who?”
He gave me a slow, knowing look over the top of his glasses. “Hunter, this is Honeybrook Hollow. From everyone. These people monitor comings and goings like they’re getting paid to do it.”
I groaned, dropping the sandwich bag on the counter. “That didn’t take long.”
“Nothing does around here.” His eyes softened. “You ready for what comes with that?”
“I’ve been ready for twenty years,” I said without thinking.
And there it was. The truth, out loud.
I picked up the sandwich and headed for the bay doors before he could press me on it.
Because I already knew that whatever came next, I would never let her face it alone.
By the time the day wound down, I’d swapped out brake pads on two Fords, wrestled with a busted alternator, and still hadn’t shaken the itch to see her.
Not just because of last night. Not just because of the gossip. Because I knew her, and I knew the way she carried things. She’d tuck the worry behind her smile until it got too heavy to hide.
The sun was dipping low, painting the streets in that burnished autumn light that made Honeybrook Hollow look like a postcard. I could see the purple glow of the Twilight Tavern’s neon from half a block away.
Her car was parked out front, but the lot was empty otherwise. I didn’t like that.
I pushed the door open, and the warm, familiar scent of beer, fried food, and citrus cleaner rolled over me. Music played low from the jukebox. She was behind the bar, sleeves shoved up, hair twisted into a messy knot. She was stuffing napkins into holders as if they had personally offended her.
“Hey,” I said.
She looked up, startled for half a second before her face softened. “Hey, yourself. You’re early. I open in an hour. I’m just setting up.”
“I know. Figured I’d help you get ready.”
Her brows lifted, but there was a tiny smile tugging at her mouth. “That’s what you call it? Sure you’re not here to check up on me?”
“Yeah,” I said, stepping behind the bar like I belonged there. “Wiping things down. Taste-testing the beer. Making sure the jukebox doesn’t get stuck on one of those sad eighties country songs.”
She shook her head, but I saw it—the way her shoulders eased just a fraction.
“Everything okay?” I asked. I wanted to hold her. I wanted her to run to me instead of trying to play it cool as if she didn’t need me when I knew she did.
“I heard from Piper. And then…” She trailed off, flicking the rag over a stubborn spot on the bar. “Let’s just say the town is talking.”
I leaned a hip against the counter. “About us.”
She blew out a breath. “About the neon parking lot spectacle, you being here every night, among other things, yeah. Eliza texted me, too. The Coffee Cabin is like Honeybrook Hollow’s gossip hub or something. Everyone who stopped by told her something different about us. It’s freaking ridiculous, and half of it isn’t even true.”
“Let them talk,” I said. “It’s not their business.”
“It’s Eli’s business if he decides to make it part of his case.”
That steel-edged tone in her voice had me wanting to go find him right now. But instead, I slid her bottle of water in front of her and popped the cap. “Drink. Hydrate. You’re running on caffeine and probably rage.”
She smirked. “Bossy.”
“Caring,” I corrected.
For a moment, we just stood there—me on one side of the bar, her on the other—long enough for the quiet to settle around us like something solid.
