Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Piper
The bell above the door jingles as Chase pushes into The Bear Paw Café, and I follow on legs that feel like they've forgotten how to work properly.
Five hours in Chase's truck will do that to you.
But at least he didn't get lost.
I left Chicago. Really left. Walked out of my mother's precious gala in hiking boots, drove back to the penthouse at midnight, and started throwing things into suitcases while my phone blew up with increasingly frantic messages from my parents.
I haven't answered a single one.
As always, Betty's café smells like heaven. Fresh coffee, cinnamon rolls straight from the oven, and that indefinable warmth that only exists in places where people actually give a damn about each other.
Today especially, it wraps around me like a hug, and I feel my shoulders drop for the first time since we left the city.
"Well, well, well." Betty appears at our table, apron tied at her waist, silver curls escaping from the pencil holding them back. Her eyes are twinkling. "Look what the mountain dragged back."
"Hi, Betty." I manage a tired smile, suddenly aware that I'm wearing jeans and Chase's oversized Stone River Mountain Rescue hoodie, the one he gave me weeks ago that I've been sleeping in every night he wasn't there to hold me.
My hair's in a messy ponytail, my face is bare of makeup, and I'm pretty sure there's a coffee stain on my sleeve.
I've never felt more myself in my life.
"Sit, sit." Betty waves us toward the corner booth—our booth, the one where I first tried to convince myself that weekends only was a sustainable plan. "You both look like you need pancakes and answers, in that order."
Chase slides in first, and I follow, tucking myself against his side like it's the most natural thing in the world. His arm comes around my shoulders automatically, and I let myself sink into the warmth of him.
"Coffee first," Chase says, his voice rough with exhaustion. "Then pancakes. Then maybe I'll be conscious enough to explain why we drove through the night like we were fleeing the country."
"Oh, honey." Betty pours two mugs of her strongest brew. "The whole town already knows."
I freeze, mug halfway to my lips. "How—"
"It's Stone River." Betty and Chase chant at exactly the same time.
I roll my eyes and laugh.
"Brooke called me at midnight." Betty sets down a plate of cinnamon rolls that are still steaming, the icing dripping down the sides in rivers of pure temptation. "Said you walked out of some fancy Chicago gala in hiking boots and told your mama exactly where she could stick her suitable suitors."
"I didn't tell her to stick anything," I say, but Chase is laughing into his coffee, and Betty's grin is so wide I can see every one of her teeth.
"Close enough, though." Chase presses a kiss to my temple. "You lifted that dress and showed the whole ballroom what Stone River means to you."
"I can't believe Brooke told everyone," I laugh, shaking my head. "Last time I call her just to pass the time on a long drive."
"Are you kidding?" Betty slides into the booth across from us, completely ignoring the fact that she has a café to run. "Etta and Mabel have been camped outside since dawn, waiting for you two to show up."
As if summoned by their names, the door jingles again, and in sweep Etta and Mabel like a two-woman cavalry charge.
"There she is!" Etta announces to the entire café. "Stone River's newest rebel!"
The handful of early morning customers all turn to stare.
"Oh God," I mutter, sinking lower into the booth.
"Don't you 'oh God' us, missy." Mabel slides in next to Betty, setting her empty Tupperware on the table. "We want every single detail. Start from the beginning and don't you dare skip the good parts."
"There aren't any good parts," I protest. "I just... I made a choice."
"A choice that involved publicly humiliating your mother and walking out on Chicago's most eligible bachelor," Etta says, leaning forward with gleaming eyes. "That's not just a choice, dear. That's a statement."
Chase's hand finds mine under the table, squeezing gently. When I glance up at him, he's smiling that soft, private smile that's just for me.
"Go on," he murmurs. "Tell them."
I take a breath. Then another. And then, somehow, I'm telling them everything.
About the gala and the Valentino gown and Maxwell's assumption that I'd spend weekends in Napa while he golfed.
About Mother's plans and standing in the middle of that glittering ballroom, surrounded by people who've spent their entire lives judging appearances and calculating social advantages, and choosing to show them exactly who I really am.
"I lifted my dress," I say, and I can't help the smile that spreads across my face.
"And I showed everyone my filthy mountain boots.
The ones that are covered in mud from hiking to Silver Falls and climbing to Lone Pine Lookout and every other beautiful, messy, real thing I've done since I came here. "
Then to my surprise, the entire café erupts like they've all been listening too.
Sam drops the dish towel he's holding. Some random hikers start clapping. And Linda lets out a whoop so loud it rattles the windows.
Over the noise, I hear the door jingle again, and I glance over.
The entire mountain rescue team is now standing there like some rugged, flannel-clad Avengers. Jamie, Knox, Travis, and Beau, all grinning like they’ve known this secret for weeks. Brooke’s beside them, arms crossed smugly, while Molly and her sister wave like they're cheering at a parade.
“When the hell did you all get here?” I blurt, but Chase just laughs, squeezing my hand tighter.
"Speech!" someone calls from the back.
"Oh no," I start, but Chase is already sliding out of the booth, pulling me with him.
"Come on, Chicago," he says, grinning. "Give the people what they want. Tell them your idea!"
"I don't—I can't—" I snap a glare at Chase. "STOP CALLING ME THAT!"
But Betty's already clearing space, and Etta's pushing me forward, and suddenly I'm standing in the middle of The Bear Paw Café with every eye on me.
My heart hammers. This is nothing like the gala, where I knew exactly what to say and how to say it. This is real people, waiting for real words, and I have no script.
Chase squeezes my hand. "Just tell them the truth."
The truth.
I look around the café—at Betty's warm smile, at Etta and Mabel practically vibrating with excitement, at Sam giving me an encouraging thumbs-up from behind the counter. At the rescue team, all looking giddy and excited, like a group of bears at feeding time.
Then finally, at Chase, standing beside me with so much love in his eyes it makes my chest ache.
"I'm staying," I say, and my voice is steadier than I expected. "In Stone River. For good."
The cheer that goes up is deafening.
"I spent my whole life trying to be perfect," I continue, raising my voice over the noise. "Trying to fit into a box that was never meant for me. And then I came here, and you all just... let me be messy. Let me be real. Let me figure out who I actually am instead of who I'm supposed to be."
Mabel's dabbing at her eyes with a napkin.
"So I'm staying," I say again, firmer this time. "And I'm going to help this town however I can. Because Stone River gave me something Chicago never could—it gave me a home."
The applause is thunderous. Betty's wiping her eyes with her apron. Chase pulls me against his side, pressing a kiss to my hair.
"That's my girl," he murmurs, and the pride in his voice makes me feel like I could take on the world.
"But wait, there's more," I say with a laugh, feeling like a gameshow host as I reach into the tote bag I dropped by our booth.
I pull out a stack of flyers I printed at a 24-hour FedEx in Chicago at 3 AM, running on coffee and adrenaline and the absolute certainty that this is what I'm meant to do.
"I want to bring tourism dollars to Stone River," I announce, holding up a flyer. "Real, sustainable tourism that celebrates what makes this place special. So I'm organizing a Stone River Summer Festival—local vendors, live music, hiking tours, the works."
I pass the flyers to Betty, who immediately starts distributing them around the café.
"I know I'm new here," I continue. "I know I don't have all the answers. But I have fundraising experience, and event planning experience, and a trust fund I might just be able to pull out from under my parents' control. Maybe."
Chase's eyebrows shoot up. "You have a trust fund?"
"Had," I correct. "I'm putting it toward the festival. Every penny."
Knox sticks his thick arm up, a massive grin on his bearded face. "I'll volunteer for setup. We can use rescue equipment for the climbing wall."
"I'll donate pies," Betty says immediately. "And we can do a bake-off competition."
"Live music!" Sam pipes up. "I know a band from the next town over… they're really good."
Ideas start flying, voices overlapping as the entire café transforms into an impromptu planning session. Chase pulls me back down into the booth, his eyes shining.
He kisses me, soft and sweet. "Welcome to your first official Stone River chaos moment."
By the time we stumble into Timber Tavern that evening, my feet are killing me and I've talked to approximately eight hundred people about the festival.
The bar is packed—standing room only, with Charlie working the taps and that ancient jukebox in the corner playing something twangy and perfect. The stone fireplace crackles with warmth, and the whole place smells like whiskey and wood smoke.
"There she is!" Charlie calls out when he spots us. "Stone River's newest resident!"
The crowd erupts in cheers, and I can't help but laugh as Chase guides me through the press of bodies toward the bar.
"Up you go," he says, and before I can protest, he's lifting me onto the bar top like I weigh nothing.
"Chase!" I yelp, grabbing his shoulder for balance. "What are you doing?!"
"Speech!" someone shouts.