Page 27 of November's Bad Boy: Kacen
I smooth my hands over my dress, a dark orange wrap number that felt festive when I put it on, but now feels a little too tight around the chest. Maybe that’s not the dress. Maybe that’s just me.
People are laughing, passing rolls and stories, and butter that’s gone too soft. I spot Ty balancing a toddler on one hip while trying to serve green beans with the other. Whose toddler it is, I'm not sure. One of the Petrovskys is already arguing about cranberry sauce. Owen and Bear are by the dessert table in what looks like a serious debate over pie strategy. It’s chaos, the best kind.
But there’s one face missing.
I try not to let my eyes scan the door again, but they do. Just once. Just enough.
Kacen isn’t here.
I tell myself I didn’t expect him to come, not after what happened and the things we said. But part of me still hoped.
Ruby clinks a fork against her glass. The noise rises above the chatter like a signal. She stands near the fireplace, glowing in a cranberry red dress with a string of pearls that belonged to her grandmother. She looks every inch the queen of Mustang Mountain.
“Alright, alright, settle down,” she says. “We’re going to take a moment to say thank you. Not just for the food—though that sweet potato casserole deserves its own award—but for each other. For this town. For the way we keep showing up.”
The room quiets. Some people sit straighter. Others lean in.
Ruby clears her throat. “There’s someone I want to thank tonight. Someone who’s been quietly helping Mustang Mountain bloom again. You’ve seen the bookstore renovations, the new gym, the support for Levi’s business, and even the Merc. We had a secret investor. Someone who believed in this town when we weren’t sure it could come back.”
People murmur, look at each other.
“He didn’t want this,” Ruby says, eyes shining. “Didn’t ask for attention. But sometimes people deserve to be seen, even if they don’t ask to be.”
She lifts her glass.
“To Kingston Raines. For believing in us when we didn’t know how to believe in ourselves.”
There’s a beat of stunned silence. Then applause. Loud, long, genuine applause. Everyone looks around, expecting to see him step out of the shadows, but he’s not here.
“He might not be joining us in person, but it’s time he got the recognition for the part he’s played in bringing Mustang Mountain back to life.” Ruby beams at everyone gathered and takes a sip of her wine.
I let the moment stretch, breathing it in. Then, before I lose my nerve, I stand.
People glance my way. A few eyebrows lift. I didn’t tell anyone I was going to speak. I didn’t plan it. But the words have been sitting in my chest all week, and they need out.
I clear my throat. “I want to say something too. Not just about Kingston, though he absolutely deserves it. But about what this night means.”
Eyes settle on me. Expectant. Kind. Curious.
I take a deep breath. “We talk a lot about showing up. About community. About helping each other. But I think the hardest part of all of that is forgiveness. Real forgiveness. Not the kind that comes with strings. The kind that requires you to let go of the past. Of fear. Of what could’ve been different.”
Someone shifts in their seat. Someone else murmurs mmm.
“There’s someone I hurt once,” I say. “And someone who hurt me. And we tried to pretend the past didn’t matter, but it does. It always does. The trick is learning how to carry it without letting it weigh you down.”
The room is dead silent now. Not uncomfortable. But listening intently.
“I don’t have a fancy toast. I just want to say that healing isn’t clean. It’s messy. It’s loud. It sometimes means yelling in kitchens and walking away and figuring out how to walk back. But it’s worth it. Because the people matter. They’re worth it.”
I lift my glass, just slightly.
“To love. To growth. And to forgiving each other enough to begin again.”
A soft rustle of approval. A few clinks. Ruby nods, eyes glassy. Arrow’s wife wipes her eyes. Even Bear looks a little misty.
And then, just as I lower my glass, the door opens.
And there he is.
