Chapter 23
Shepard
The station is quieter than it has been in days, just the hum of the vending machine and the faint chatter of dispatch over the radio. I’m leaning on the counter with a mug of coffee, watching Gabe move paperwork from one pile to another like he’s trying to convince himself it matters.
“You’re really not going to the unveiling?” I ask, because the silence has been needling at me all morning.
He doesn’t look up. “No.”
“That’s it?” I push, because I can’t leave it there. “No? That’s all I get? Sadie’s been killing herself over that wall for weeks and you’re just… staying here?”
His jaw ticks, but his eyes stay on the paperwork. “Yeah.”
I wait, because Gabe doesn’t do anything without a reason, and I’ve known him long enough to know when he’s holding back. Sure enough, after a moment, he sighs and tosses his pen down.
“Shep, if I go down there, it’s just going to make everything worse. For me. For Boone. For her.”
I frown, not satisfied. “She’d like you to be there.”
“Would she?” His laugh is humorless. “I acted like an ass at dinner. I made her uncomfortable. You think showing up today is going to fix that? No. Better that Boone has his clean shot. Better that I stay out of the way.”
I study him. He looks exhausted, shoulders slumped, dark circles under his eyes that didn’t come from one bad night’s sleep. He’s carrying something heavy, and maybe it isn’t my place to dig it out of him.
But damn it, I hate the way this feels—like he’s already written himself out of the story before it’s even played out.
“You’re really just going to sit here and push papers while the whole damn town gathers for this?” I press one more time.
He drags a hand over his face. “Yeah. Someone’s got to hold down the fort. Let Boone have this one.”
There’s something final in his tone, a wall I know better than to keep pushing against. I nod, even though it leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t ask.”
By the time I leave, I’m frustrated, but I don’t let it show when I stop by Grace’s flower shop. Grace herself greets me from behind the counter, her hair tied up in a scarf patterned with sunflowers.
The whole shop smells like it’s been kissed by spring—earthy, sweet, green. Buckets of lilies, daisies, wildflowers. And then the roses, cut that morning, fresh and sharp with their faint peppery bite.
I tell her I need a bouquet for an unveiling, something that feels… right. Not romantic. Not cold. Something that says “we see you, and we’re proud.”
Grace doesn’t hesitate. She moves through the buckets like she’s painting with flowers, pulling stems of coral peonies, white daisies, lavender sprigs, and one sunflower in the center.
She ties it all off with twine instead of ribbon, casual but deliberate, like she knows too much polish would feel false.
“Smells like a meadow,” I murmur when she hands it over.
She grins. “That’s the point. Tell Sadie congratulations from me.”
The bouquet rides shotgun as I drive to Baxter’s, the old brick wall already surrounded by half the damn town.
It’s strange, seeing the space transformed—tables set up, folding chairs for the older folks, kids darting between legs with cotton candy from some vendor. The smell of fried dough and coffee drifts through the air.
And there she is.
Sadie, standing with Boone at her side, her pink hair catching the sunlight like a flare. She’s nervous—I can see it in the way her fingers twist together, in the way her smile flickers on and off like she can’t decide if she has the right to hold onto it.
Boone leans down, says something low, and she laughs. Soft, unguarded.
I hate myself a little in that moment, because I understand Gabe more than I want to. I know exactly what it feels like to want her and know I can’t have her. And worse—I know what it feels like to dream about her.
Not just once. Over and over. Heat-drenched dreams that leave me aching in the dark, with her mouth, her skin, her voice filling every corner of me.
I shove the thought down hard, because if Boone ever knew, I couldn’t face him. He’s my brother in all the ways that matter, and I’ll never betray him like that. Not out loud.
I school my face into something easy and walk toward them. “You two look like you’re running the show.”
Sadie turns, and the relief in her eyes when she sees me almost knocks me flat. “Shep. You came.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I say, and I hand her the bouquet.
Her fingers brush mine as she takes it, and for a second, the scent of the peonies and lavender is drowned out by the pulse of something else—something sharp, forbidden.
She hugs me before I can think better of it, a quick squeeze that smells like paint and soap and Sadie, and it takes everything in me not to hold on too long.
When she pulls back, Boone’s watching, but not with suspicion—just pride. He looks proud of her, proud to be next to her. That’s good. That’s right.
“You nervous?” I ask her.
She exhales, nodding. “Like I’m about to fall flat on my face.”
I shake my head. “You’ll be fine. Trust me. The mural’s the star today. You just have to stand there and let it do the talking.”
Boone clears his throat. “Is Gabe coming?”
The question makes Sadie stiffen, almost imperceptibly, and I don’t miss it. I lie before I can think better of it. “He had to cover at the station. You know how it is.”
Sadie nods, though her eyes flick down. Boone doesn’t press, but I can tell he’s not buying it.
Before the tension can thicken, Jake steps up with Julian Vance at his side, clapping his hands to gather attention. Sadie’s whisked away by Jake, bouquet still in hand, her shoulders tight as she heads for the little stage set up in front of Baxter’s.
And then the tarp comes down.
Gasps ripple through the crowd, then applause.
Baxter’s wall—once a crumbling eyesore—is now an explosion of color.
A phoenix, wings stretched wide, rising from a storm of blues and grays into oranges and golds.
Fire and sky, destruction and rebirth. It’s breathtaking, even for me, even though I’ve been watching the damn thing take shape for weeks.
I glance at Boone, expecting him to be glowing, but his eyes are locked on Sadie, not the wall. The way he looks at her makes something in my chest twist.
“Hey,” I murmur, trying to play the bigger person. “I know things with Gabe have been… tense. But he does care, Boone. About her. About you. About all of this.”
Boone’s jaw tightens. “This isn’t the place, Shep.”
“I know,” I say quickly. “I’m just saying, don’t write him off. He’s—”
Boone’s phone buzzes. He curses under his breath, mutters an apology, and steps away, already answering the call.
I exhale, running a hand down my face.
That’s when Millie appears at my elbow, cheeks pink, eyes bright. She’s clutching a notebook to her chest, still looking like she hasn’t fully recovered from whatever hangover she carried out of the bonfire.
“Shepard!” she chirps. “I was hoping to catch you.”
I force a smile, because she means well. “Millie. How’s the volunteer work treating you?”
Her grin widens. “Busy! But good. I wanted to talk to you about maybe organizing a little exhibit. You know, tie it into the murals? History and art together.”
I nod, grateful for the distraction. “That’s a good idea. Let’s talk more about it.”
But my eyes can’t help drifting back to the stage, where Sadie stands clutching the bouquet like a lifeline, her pink hair glowing in the sun, the phoenix blazing behind her.
And I know, without a shadow of doubt, that I’m in trouble.
Boone returns to my side with his phone still in his hand, expression pulled tight. He doesn’t even have to say it for me to know—duty’s calling.
“Shep,” he mutters low, leaning closer so only I can hear, “I’ve got to go. Car accident just outside Harbor Road. Multiple calls coming in. I’m on shift.” His voice is clipped, efficient, already half out the door in his head.
“Go,” I say immediately, because there’s never a question when it comes to Boone and his job. People first. Always.
He hesitates, though, and glances back toward the stage where Sadie’s talking with Jake, bouquet still clutched like armor. “Can you”—he swallows, looking almost guilty—“just tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t stay? That I’ll come find her later?”
“Of course.”
His relief is brief, just a nod and a clap on my shoulder before he’s jogging off toward the lot where the ambulance is parked. He’s gone in seconds, swallowed by the noise of the crowd, leaving me in the middle of the town square with his words weighing heavier than they should.
Now it’s just me.
And her.
Jake steps up to the microphone with that easy charisma he’s honed from years of being both Alpha and mayor.
“Driftwood Cove,” he calls out, and his voice carries, strong enough to silence even the restless kids darting through the folding chairs.
“Thank you all for being here today. Today we celebrate more than just a wall. We celebrate resilience. Renewal. A chance to see our town in color again.”
Applause rises, easy and warm, like the whole town’s been waiting for something to clap about. I glance at Sadie. Her shoulders are stiff, but her chin is lifted, eyes darting between the mural and the people gathered. She looks like she’s bracing for impact.
Jake gestures toward her. “None of this would be possible without the talent and dedication of Sadie Devereaux. In just a few short weeks, she’s poured herself into this project—into us—and the result speaks for itself. A phoenix rising. Driftwood Cove reborn.”
When the tarp comes down, the crowd gasps.
The old brick wall that had been faded and crumbling is alive now, transformed. The mural isn’t just a phoenix—it’s a phoenix woven into the feed store’s history.