Chapter 32 Paige
Paige
It had been a few weeks, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I was happy.
The girls were okay. Therapy was helping.
They went twice a week—together sometimes, separately when they needed it—and even though it broke my heart to see them walk into those offices with brave little faces, it gave me peace to know they had someone safe to talk to.
Someone who wasn’t as close to the situation as I was.
Someone who could help them untangle the mess Eli had left in their lives.
Noah checked in constantly, calling from Portland between classes and sending me memes when he thought I sounded stressed.
He was okay. He’d been taking the breakup in stride, and every time we spoke or texted, he seemed a little steadier, a little more sure of himself.
It was reassuring to see him finding his own way back to happiness, slowly but surely.
Briar and Lark were finding their footing again, a little more secure every day. And me? I was trying to believe it was really over.
Ren secured a restraining order against Eli and said it was airtight.
He’d also found out that the truck that followed Briar when she snuck out was just a random kid from the area, drunk after hanging out at one of the bonfires.
He swore he had no bad intentions toward Briar, but there was no way to know if he was telling the truth.
Hunter had told me about the truck after things had settled down and how he and his brothers had been keeping an eye on me and the girls.
Sometimes I could hardly believe how lucky I was to have him in our lives.
Even though Eli had dropped every legal filing against me, he still had his businesses and was actually working to get them up and running again.
Danielle had filed for divorce and moved back in with her parents, putting some distance between herself and the mess he had left behind.
The fallout was complicated, but everyone seemed to be finding their own way through it, piece by piece.
There were still whispers in town. People loved a good story, and this one had everything: heartbreak, betrayal, scandal, a parking-lot make-out session, and a bar that had nearly gone to ruin before coming back shinier than ever.
But none of that mattered, not really. Because every night, when I locked up the tavern, Hunter was waiting for me. Not out of obligation, not because something needed fixing, but because we wanted the same thing: for us to end our days together.
I leaned against the bar now, the soft thrum of the jukebox filling the background with something slow and sweet, and looked around at what I had. The Twilight Tavern finally looked like the place I’d dreamed of owning. But it wasn’t the bar that had me smiling.
The door swung open, that familiar creak of the hinges, and in he came—broad-shouldered and smiling. His face told me more than words ever could—and I knew that the worst was behind us. For once, I didn’t have to fight every battle alone.
Hunter slid onto a stool at the far end, where he always sat when the night was quiet, and I made my way over like muscle memory.
“You’re early,” I said, my voice softer than I meant it to be.
He shrugged, propping an elbow on the bar. “Deacon had the shop covered. Figured I’d rather be with you.”
That little flutter in my chest turned into a full sweep. I busied myself wiping down the already-clean counter, because otherwise I’d probably climb over it just to get to him. “I love that you still come by to close with me.” It had been a slow night, so everyone had gone home a few minutes ago.
“Yeah.” His voice was steady, but there was something underneath it. Something that made me lift my head.
Our eyes met, and I saw it—the weight he carried for me, for my kids, for all of it.
I leaned on the bar across from him. “I don’t know if I ever said thank you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I do,” I insisted. My throat felt tight, but I pushed through it. “Hunter, I thought I was protecting everyone by keeping things quiet and handling everything on my own. But all I was doing was pushing you away. And you still showed up even when I didn’t deserve it.”
His jaw tightened, but his eyes softened. “Paige, I was never going to leave you in it alone. Not then, not now.”
The jukebox shifted to an old love song—something twangy and slow, the kind of thing couples would dance to if the place were fuller. For a second, I let myself imagine swaying there with him in the empty bar, the lights low, his hand warm against the small of my back.
Instead, I said, “The girls are doing better. They trust you.”
His gaze sharpened, that quiet intensity that always undid me. “Good. Because I meant what I said, Paige, I’ll always show up for your kids. For you.”
Emotion rose thick in my chest, and I swallowed it down, pressing a hand against the cool wood of the bar. “I don’t know what’s coming next. But I know I’m strong enough for all of it, and I want you with me while I figure it out.”
He stood, slow and deliberate, and closed the distance between us. His hand came to rest over mine on the counter, warm, solid. “Then that’s where I’ll be.”
The room went quiet in that way it sometimes does when the air is thick with something meaningful. I tilted my head up, caught in the look he was giving me—the one that made my knees weak and my heart pound—and whispered, “Dance with me?”
No crowd, just the two of us swaying behind the bar.
His arms came around me, mine looped around his neck.
His hand pressed firmly against the small of my back as we swayed in the empty bar.
The lights overhead were soft, the jukebox playing soft and low, and I leaned into him, letting the warmth of his body sink into mine.
It was easy to forget everything when we were like this. Easy to let my guard down.
“Is this what prom would have felt like if I’d gone with you?” I whispered, my cheek against his chest.
His chest rumbled with a low laugh. “Yeah. Except I wasn’t really into dancing back then.”
I tipped my head back, caught by the wicked glint in his eyes, and smiled. “And we won’t have to go out to your truck afterward. Or maybe we should.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth, and the air shifted. The lazy sway slowed, turning into something heavier and more charged. He bent his head, brushing his lips against mine in the softest tease of a kiss.
The first kiss was tender, but the second was fire. His hand slid from the small of my back down over my hip, pulling me closer, until I could feel the hard planes of his body pressed against mine. My fingers curled in his shirt, holding him there, needing him closer.
I gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed it with a growl low in his throat, kissing me harder. The bar disappeared. The world disappeared. There was only Hunter, his mouth on mine, his hand slipping under the hem of my shirt, his thumb grazing skin that burned under his touch.
I broke away only long enough to breathe. “I love how you make me feel.”
“Maybe we should go out to my truck right now and find a dark place to park,” he rasped, his forehead pressed to mine. “I’ll show you how much I missed you today.”
I nodded, dizzy from the way he was looking at me, like I was the only thing he’d ever wanted. “You have the best ideas.”
His hand tightened on my waist, his mouth finding mine again, this time deeper, hungrier. Heat coiled low in my belly, and every nerve screamed for more. He didn’t answer.
I pulled back with a shaky laugh, breathless. “Let’s lock up and get out of here.”
His jaw clenched, his eyes dark with restraint. He pressed one last kiss to my mouth, fierce and lingering, then drew in a deep breath. “Damn, Paige.”
“Yeah,” I whispered, still clinging to him. “I need you.” We stood there, pressed together in the quiet glow of the tavern, the heat between us simmering.
He didn’t hesitate. We slipped out into the cool night, laughter tumbling between us as we hurried past the neon-lit windows and across the parking lot. The world felt spun with possibility, electric in its quiet.
Hunter opened the passenger door, and I slid in, heart hammering, nerves and anticipation tangling beneath my skin.
He rounded the hood and climbed behind the wheel, his silhouette dark and sure against the glow of the dashboard lights.
For a moment, he just looked at me, his thumb tracing lazy circles atop my knuckles.
Neither of us said a word as he started the truck and pulled out onto the empty road. The town faded behind us, replaced by fields and forest, the windows down just enough to let the cool air brush over our skin.
Music spilled softly from the radio—a song we both knew but neither named.
Hunter reached for my hand, threading our fingers together, anchoring me to the present.
We drove on, each mile smoothing the static between us, turning the urgent heat of the bar into something slower, sweeter, and impossibly tender.
When he finally stopped, the only witnesses were the stars shining in the endless sky and our own breathless, unspoken hope.