Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
“ D ammit, dammit, dammit,” Deb muttered under her breath as she darted through the house, grabbing her keys from the counter and shoving one foot into a shoe while hopping toward the door. She was late. Late. And she was never late.
Her hair was still half-damp, makeup forgotten on the bathroom sink, and she couldn’t even remember if she’d eaten breakfast. Her internal clock, usually as reliable as sunrise, had completely betrayed her this morning.
She’d overslept. Not by a few minutes—by a lot .
And that was the strangest part.
Because for the first time in forever, she’d actually slept. Really slept. No tossing and turning. No staring at the ceiling with thoughts that wouldn’t shut up. Just deep, uninterrupted peace.
Her body had melted into the mattress like it trusted the world to spin without her watching it.
She paused in the doorway, one hand on the frame, and let herself feel it for just a second—that warm, unfamiliar afterglow of a soul that hadn’t had to fight through the night.
Brock.
His name whispered through her mind before she could stop it.
She hadn't even seen him since the fishing bet yesterday, but something about him—about the safety and ease he brought with him—had stayed with her, wrapped around her like an invisible blanket through the night.
Deb shook her head, half-laughing at herself as she finally stepped outside, slamming the door behind her. “Get it together, woman. You got shit to do.”
Deb bolted out the back door, skipping the last two steps like her heels were on fire, only to scream as a large pile of something flew past her head and smacked the ground with a heavy thud .
“Shit!” a voice yelled from above.
“Deb!”
Before her heart could settle back into her chest, both Hunter and Brock jumped down from the roof, landing in front of her like twin shadows. Brock reached her first, his hands warm and strong as they gripped her shoulders, his eyes scanning her frantically.
“Were you hit?” he asked, his voice sharp with concern as he looked her over, hands brushing against her arms and sides like he needed to make sure she was whole.
She blinked, still stunned, then looked at the pile of shingles now lying pathetically beside her feet. “No,” she said breathlessly. “Just scared the absolute crap out of me.”
“What the hell, Deb?” Hunter ran a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “You came out of nowhere! What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m going to work,” she snapped, still trying to calm her racing heart. “What are you doing? Attempting murder by construction?”
Hunter glared, flinging a hand toward the roof. “Didn’t you hear us? We’ve been up there an hour! I swear, we could’ve woken the damn dead! Storms are coming in tonight, and we wanted to get this done before that.”
Deb crossed her arms, frowning. Truth be told, she hadn’t heard a thing. She’d been too busy running around inside like a headless chicken trying to get ready. “No,” she admitted. “I didn’t know you were up there. But yeah, thanks.”
Both men looked at her like she’d just confessed to eating drywall. It was Hunter who broke the silence. “Seriously? What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing!” Deb shot back, hand on her hip. “What’s wrong with you? Upset because you didn’t kill me? Afraid I really will talk to Mabel, and she’ll make good on her threat to turn that thing you call a dick black?”
“Wait.” Brock looked confused as he glanced between Hunter, whose face was angry, and then to Deb, who smirked. “What?”
“Not funny.” Hunter pointed at her and then looked at Brock. “Long story.”
“Actually, it’s not, but whatever,” Deb said as she tried to walk around Brock, but he stepped in her way.
“Are you sure you weren’t hit?” he asked softly, his voice low as he looked her over.
Deb hesitated, her heart doing an entirely different kind of race now. He was close—too close—and the way he was looking at her like she actually mattered made her knees feel a little too unreliable.
“I’m sure,” she managed, giving a brisk nod. “Listen, I’m already late. Thanks for fixing the roof. Really.”
She started toward her car, but paused at the edge of the yard, tossing a glance over her shoulder. “There’s sandwich stuff in the kitchen if you guys get hungry.”
“You shouldn’t leave your house unlocked,” Brock called after her, his tone more serious than before.
“I don’t.” She shot him a quick smile, though her chest ached just a little. “Hunter knows where the extra key is hidden.”
She turned away quickly, because if she looked at Brock for one more second with that worried crease between his brows, she might just melt into a puddle of feelings right there in the grass.
As she opened the door to her car, she heard Brock’s voice float back to Hunter—full of genuine confusion and reluctant amusement.
“Okay, but seriously—who the hell is Mabel? And how exactly can she turn your dick black, man?”
Deb snorted, barely managing to muffle her laugh as she slid into the driver’s seat. God, she loved giving Hunter hell. Rattling his cage was quickly becoming one of her favorite pastimes. The man made it so easy.
Shaking her head, still grinning, she started the car and backed out of the driveway. But just as she shifted into drive and began to pull away, something tugged at her instincts. She glanced up.
There, on the roof, Brock was kneeling—shoulders shaking with laughter, his face turned toward her. The sunlight caught the edge of his profile, making the curve of his smile almost too perfect.
And then he looked at her.
Really looked at her.
His laughter faded, and the easy smile slipped away, replaced by something else—something heavier, hotter. His eyes locked with hers, intense and unblinking, like he was trying to memorize the shape of her in that moment. The air in her car suddenly felt a little too thick to breathe.
Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears, loud enough to drown out the radio she hadn’t even realized she’d turned on.
That stare… it burned. Not in a bad way. In a dangerous kind of way. The kind that made promises her heart wasn’t ready to cash in on. She forced herself to break the connection, lifting her hand in a quick, casual wave before tearing her gaze away and driving off.
But even as the house disappeared in her rearview mirror, the image of Brock on that roof stayed with her.
The way he’d looked at her like she mattered.
Damn.
She was totally, utterly, helplessly screwed.
Pulling into the Feed Mill, Deb parked in a rush, barely cutting the engine before hopping out and jogging to the back entrance. She burst through the door, a little breathless.
“Hey!” she called, trying to catch her breath. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re fine,” Emily said, not even looking up as she sorted through a box of newly arrived work gloves. “It’s been pretty slow. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just overslept,” Deb admitted with a half-snort, still a little stunned it had actually happened. She wasn’t exactly known for sleeping in. “How are you feeling?”
“Great,” Emily replied with a bright smile before giving a small shrug. “A little morning sickness, but nothing like the other day. Thank God.”
Deb nodded and moved to check the logbook, flipping through the day’s expected deliveries. “Are the chicks still coming in today?”
“They’re supposed to,” Emily said, walking over to the counter. “Hunter got everything set up for them already.”
Every spring, they got their usual shipment of baby chicks. Deb considered starting a coop out at the old farmhouse. This could be the year. If there were any left after the orders went out, she might just take the plunge.
“Hey, I was talking with Janna this morning,” Emily began, and Deb’s stomach twisted. Just the name made her pulse stutter.
“She said they’re not sure if they can host the community Easter egg hunt and potluck this year. Their place just isn’t big enough anymore. Our little shifter town is growing faster than we can keep up.”
“It really is,” Deb murmured, flipping another page in the ledger. “The farmhouse would be big enough. They can have it there.”
Emily’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
Deb shrugged, keeping her tone light. “Sure. I hadn’t planned on going, to be honest. I haven’t gone to anything like that since... well, since Janna and Garrett’s party. But if they want to use the space, it’s theirs. You can let her know. If she’s not comfortable with it because I own the place now, I’ll understand.”
Emily hesitated for a beat, then admitted with a sheepish grin, “She’s actually the one who suggested it and yes, she knows you own it now. I just didn’t want to say anything until you offered.”
Deb blinked, caught off guard.
Emily took a deep breath. “Deb, you really need to talk to Janna. Apologize, or at least say what you need to say for your own peace.”
Deb’s expression darkened, and she looked down at the open book. “Emily, I made a crude comment about her losing her babies.” Her voice cracked just by saying it aloud. “There’s no apology for something that cruel.”
“You were drinking, Deb,” Emily said gently, though her voice carried weight. “Heavily. And you were hurting. That doesn’t make it okay—but it does matter. You have to forgive yourself, at some point.”
Deb shook her head slowly. “I’ve said a lot of awful things, Emily. Not just drunk. Sober, too. And we both know it.”
“But not about children,” Emily said firmly. She stepped forward and pulled Deb into a tight hug. “I love you, Deb. You made an ugly mistake, but it’s not all you are. Talk to her. She’s home with the kids today, and Garrett’s heading over to help Hunter and Brock with your roof.”
Deb leaned back slightly. “He is?”
Emily nodded. “Yeah. He is.” She offered a small, sad smile. “You’re not as hated as you think you are, Deb. You’ve apologized to a lot of people, but not Janna, and I know that is silently killing you.”
Deb nodded her throat tight with tears. “I don’t even know what to say to her, Em.”
“Start with I’m sorry.” Emily walked her to the door. “If she accepts it great.”
“And if she doesn’t?” Deb swallowed hard. “Not that I expect her to.”
“Then, at least you tried.” Emily pulled her in for one more hug before giving her a gentle nudge toward the door. “Now go on. I expect you at all the town parties—especially now that you’re going to be an aunt. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been avoiding them because of Janna.”
Deb gave a tight-lipped smile, her heart thudding a little harder in her chest. “Yeah, okay.”
“Don’t ‘yeah okay’ me,” Emily called after her. “Go!”
With a deep breath, Deb headed down the steps, her boots crunching softly on the gravel as she crossed the quiet street toward Janna and Garrett’s place. A dry lump formed in her throat, making it difficult to swallow. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to apologize—she did. God, she did. The words she’d hurled that night haunted her, playing on repeat in the darkest hours when she couldn’t sleep. But shame was a heavy thing, and she carried more than her fair share of it.
The walk from the Feed Mill to their house wasn’t long, but today it felt like miles.
As she reached the front porch, she paused, hand hovering to knock, when the sound of children’s laughter floated around from the backyard. Turning, she followed the sound and slowly rounded the corner.
There they were.
Maria and Max—twins with bright eyes and wild hair—were running barefoot through the grass, chasing each other with squeals of joy. Deb stopped in her tracks. Janna sat nearby in a lawn chair, a warm, peaceful smile on her face as she watched them.
Deb stayed still, watching quietly from the shade of the house. The twins were beautiful, a perfect blend of Janna and Garrett, though Max looked so much like his father it nearly knocked the wind out of her.
She had never met them, only seen them around town.
Deb had always loved kids. But after that night—after hearing from her sister in a brutally honest rant exactly what she had said, word for word—she had shut down completely. She didn’t deserve to be around children, not after wishing harm on them, even if it had come from the bottom of a bottle and not her heart.
Still, seeing them now, full of life and laughter, brought a sting to her eyes.
It was time.
She squared her shoulders, drawing in a long, shaky breath that caught in her chest. Every step toward the backyard felt like walking through wet cement. But she kept moving, heart pounding, knowing she had to do this—needed to do it, even if it shattered her all over again.
She was walking toward the woman she had wronged in one of the worst ways imaginable. And she had no idea what kind of reception she’d get.
“Janna,” Deb said quietly, her voice cracking like old wood under pressure. She didn’t want to startle her.
Janna looked up, a little surprised to hear her voice. “Deb,” she said, her tone calm but distant. “How are you?”
“I’m… alright,” Deb replied, though it felt like a lie the second it left her mouth. Her throat tightened as she looked at the children—beautiful, perfect, and untouched by the darkness she’d once spewed. “I—I came to say I’m sorry.”
Janna didn’t speak right away, just studied her with those sharp, perceptive eyes that had always seen more than most people. She stood slowly, brushing off her jeans, her expression unreadable as she glanced toward the twins before turning back to Deb.
Deb swallowed hard. “What I said that night… I’ve hated myself for it every day since. I was drunk, yeah, but that doesn’t excuse it. Not even close. I swear to you, I would take it back a thousand times if I could.” Her voice cracked again, thick with regret. “You didn’t deserve that, not ever. I just wanted you to know that I am so, so sorry.”
Janna let out a long breath, the kind that sounded like she’d been holding it in for a long time. “You hurt me, Deb. You hurt Garrett. And I know you were drinking, but… it still cut deep.”
Deb nodded, the tears slipping freely down her cheeks now. “I know. And I don’t expect forgiveness. I just needed to say it out loud. It’s long overdue. I’ve just been so ashamed that I...have a very hard time facing the version I used to be I guess.”
Janna gave a small, almost sad smile. “We’ve all made mistakes, Deb. Maybe not that exact kind… but still. And maybe I can’t forget what you said—but I can forgive it. Especially if you’re trying to be better.”
Deb let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “I am.”
Janna stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug, not tight, but real. Warm. “Then let’s start over. And you should meet the twins. They’d love you.”
Deb choked on a sob and returned the hug, her heart cracking open with relief. Maybe healing wasn’t just a possibility—maybe it had already begun.