Chapter 19 Paige #2
He swallowed, his gaze dropping to the scarred wood floor.
For a moment, the silence pressed between us, thick as a fog neither of us wanted to walk through.
I could see the words lining up behind his lips, the urge to argue, to justify, all of it simmering just below the surface. But he held it in, jaw working.
“What do you want from me, Paige?” he finally said, voice quieter now. “I know I’ve screwed up. I know I can’t change what happened. But I’m here, aren’t I? I’m trying.”
I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. My hand closed tighter around the key, as if its weight might anchor me. “Showing up doesn’t fix what you broke,” I managed, voice rough. “You can’t just waltz in and rewrite the past.”
His eyes flickered with something—hurt, maybe, or just fatigue. “I’m not trying to rewrite anything. I just want a chance to do right by them. And by you, if I can.”
“It’s too late for us, I don’t care anymore, and you no longer have the power to hurt me. And as for Noah and the girls? That’s not up to me,” I said. “You burned all the bridges, Eli. If you want to cross, you’ll have to learn how to swim.”
A muscle ticked in his cheek. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is,” I said, and the finality in my voice surprised even me. “Danielle was here. Right before you showed up, she didn’t know where you were. Sound familiar?”
“I’m sorry, Paige. Damn it.”
“Haven’t you learned by now that apologies mean shit without accountability? You do the same thing over and over. You never change, Eli.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Oh my god!” I let out a frustrated screech. “Get the fuck out of my bar. That’s what I want.”
“Not until we talk this through. Please.”
“Fine. Talk. This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that your businesses are tanking, would it?”
His jaw tightened. “I’m trying, Paige. You think it’s easy keeping everything going?”
“I know exactly how hard it is. I did it for years while you were busy chasing bad ideas and fucking Danielle behind my back.”
Color rose in his face. “That’s not fair.”
I shrugged. “It’s accurate.”
He exhaled sharply, the apology draining out of his voice. “You know what? Forget it. I was trying to make things better.”
“This isn’t about making things better. It’s about control. And I’m not giving you any more of it.”
His mouth flattened. Without another word, he turned and stalked out, the door slamming behind him hard enough to rattle the glasses on the back shelf.
The room felt smaller after he left, the weight of the morning pressing in—Danielle’s fake sweetness, the canceled delivery, Eli’s bullshit apology. It was too much, too fast.
I locked up, deciding the bar could survive without me for a few hours. I just needed to go home and take a breath.
I’d barely made it a mile down the road when the steering wheel jerked in my hands. The car listed to the right, a rhythmic thump-thump-thump filling the air.
Flat tire.
Of course.
I pulled over onto the gravel shoulder, gripping the wheel until my knuckles ached. This day wasn’t just bad; it was starting to feel like someone was stacking the deck against me.
I sat in the driver’s seat for a full minute, forehead resting on the steering wheel, trying to decide whether to scream or cry.
I slid my phone out of my pocket, grabbed my bag, and stepped out into the crisp air. The tire was flat, flat, the kind you couldn’t limp along on even if you tried.
I sent a text to Hunter and climbed back inside the car. Locking the door, wondering if I should just say fuck it all and take a damn nap in the back seat.
Through the silence, I caught the distant rumble of an engine and glanced up.
A bright red Cassidy Automotive truck slowed to a stop behind my car, gravel crunching beneath its tires.
My shoulders sagged with relief. No matter how bad the day had gotten, things always felt a little more manageable whenever Hunter showed up.
I opened my door and stood at the side of my car, waiting.
He hopped out, his work jacket unzipped over a T-shirt, toolbox in one hand. “You okay?”
“Flat tire,” I said, gesturing toward the obvious.
“I got this. Fifteen minutes, okay.”
I huffed out a laugh that felt more like relief than anything. “One day, I’ll ride to your rescue. I swear. You’re going to get a hero complex because of me.”
He grinned, setting the toolbox down and crouching by the tire. “Well, you really do have terrible luck lately. I gotta say. But this—” he trailed off. “The timing of it is—odd. I’m worried about you, Paige.”
“Yeah,” I hesitated to say anything. I didn’t want him to think I was paranoid or to worry too much about me. “I’m starting to think it’s not luck,” I muttered, glancing toward the horizon where the late morning sun was breaking through thin clouds. “It’s starting to feel like—something else.”
Hunter’s hands stilled for a second, his eyes lifting to mine. “Sabotage? I mean—the freezer was weird. Remember the wiring? Do you think someone is messing with you?”
“I didn’t say that,” I hedged. “But between the canceled delivery earlier, Danielle showing up, and Eli letting himself into my locked bar—”
“He what?” Hunter’s voice rumbled from his chest, low and dangerous.
“He used his key. I made him hand it over.”
“That bastard.” His jaw worked, but he didn’t say anything more, just bent and started loosening the lug nuts.
“You know,” I added, “the girls told him they’d be at their grandparents’ this weekend. They don’t even want to see him right now.”
Hunter’s expression softened, but his voice stayed steady. “Good. They deserve to feel safe. And so do you. I’m taking this tire to the shop. I brought you a new one.”
I didn’t answer, not right away. I just watched him work, the easy competence in his movements, the way he filled my space like he was meant to be here.
When he straightened, wiping his hands on a rag, I found myself saying, “Thank you.”
He stepped closer, his palm brushing lightly against my arm. “Anytime.”
Something in me cracked just enough to lean into him for a second, my forehead resting against his chest. He smelled like soap, coffee, and the faint tang of motor oil, familiar and safe.
“You’ve had a morning,” he murmured.
“That’s one way to put it.”
His lips brushed my temple, feather light. “Come on. I’ll follow you home. Make sure you get there in one piece.”
The drive back was short, but I caught sight of him in my rearview every time I glanced up. It was comforting, like a lighthouse following me home instead of waiting on the shore.
I pulled into the driveway, my porch light still on from the morning rush when the girls had left for school. Hunter parked at the curb and followed me to the door.
“Thanks again,” I said as we stepped inside.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, hanging his jacket over the back of a chair. “You know this is the part of the pact where I just show up when you need me, right?”
I gave him a look. “Pretty sure that wasn’t in the original agreement.”
“Guess I’m rewriting the terms.” His smile was small, soft, the kind that tugged at places in me I’d been guarding for years.
I dropped my bag onto the counter and leaned back against it. “You want coffee? I’m making coffee.”
“Sure,” he said, settling into one of the kitchen chairs like this was a perfectly normal mid-morning ritual for us.
While the machine gurgled to life, I let the quiet stretch. Outside, a car drove past, the sound fading quickly into the stillness. My heart was still racing from the day’s chaos, but it was slowing, settling into something steadier just from having him here.
Two mugs in hand, I joined him at the table. His fingers brushed mine when he took his cup, lingering just long enough to make me forget what I’d been about to say.
“You look tired,” he murmured.
I laughed once, softly. “That’s because I am.”
He leaned in, resting his forearms on the table. “Then you should let me take care of you for a while.”
The way he said it—no bravado, no pity—made my throat tighten. I reached across, my fingers wrapping around his. “You already do. You have no idea how much better I feel because of you. It’s everything to me.”
For a beat, neither of us moved. Then he stood, tugging gently until I stood too. His arms slid around me, and I let myself sink into him, the warmth of his chest steady against my cheek.
“You’ve got a lot coming at you,” he said quietly. “But you’re not alone in any of it.”
I tilted my head back to look at him, my hands resting against his ribs. “I know. And I don’t take it for granted, Hunter.”
His thumb brushed along my jaw, slow and careful, before he leaned down and kissed me. Soft at first, the kind of kiss that could have ended in a sigh, but deepened when my fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.
When we finally parted, he rested his forehead against mine. “I should go and let you rest before the girls get home.”
“I don’t want you to,” I admitted.
His smile was warm and a little sad. “I want to stay, too. But I’ve got a car waiting for me at the shop.”
He squeezed my hand once, then lifted it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my palm.
Gently, he closed my fingers around it, like he was asking me to keep it safe until he could give me the next one.
I looked down at my closed hand, heart thudding like he’d left a piece of himself there.
Then he stepped back and grabbed his jacket.
“Promise to text me if anything feels off. About the bar, Eli, any of it.”
“I promise.”
He left, his truck rumbling to life, and I stood in the doorway watching until he turned the corner out of sight.
Inside, the coffee sat cooling on the table, the house too quiet. But the echo of his presence was still here, threaded into the walls, into me.