Chapter 8
eight
. . .
HARRISON
I was sitting in Dockside Café with my laptop open, the notification bell chiming every few seconds.
My index finger cramped from clicking “like” for the past hour.
I glanced at my phone as it buzzed with another text—Charlie Emerson’s girls, Maggie and Lilah, sending a thumbs-up emoji and a screenshot showing our hashtag trending locally.
There’d been a thousand shares since breakfast. What they’d managed to achieve in only a handful of days to promote the upcoming “Trees, Cheese, and Holiday Cheer” event was mind-boggling.
Initially, all Jemma wanted was to drive locals back to the farm to buy their trees instead of heading to the cheaper big-box store out by the highway.
But since those kids had worked their magic, the farm was absolutely swamped.
Thanks to a TikTok video of Jeremy and me chasing my goats that’d gone insanely viral, folks were driving down from Maine or up from Rhode Island to visit Mistletoe Bay and check out Winterberry Farm.
All of that in and of itself was extraordinary, but for me, personally, the biggest surprise of all was how the photos Jeremy had taken of me turned out. Yes, I’d gone out of my way to look good for them, but the results were … something else.
I’d stared at those photos for longer than I cared to admit when Jeremy first sent them over. Not that I was shocked by how good I looked—I knew what angles worked for me and how to present myself for a camera—but something else entirely had caught my attention.
I looked happy. Genuinely, unguardedly happy in a way I hadn’t been in … God, years? Since before I’d moved back to Mistletoe Bay, certainly.
Maybe even longer.
And Jeremy had captured it. Had seen things in me I hadn’t even known were there to see.
During the photoshoot, he told me he’d gotten into photography because he wanted to see the world from a different perspective. But what he’d managed to accomplish with those photos was giving me a different point of view.
Jeremy had always been able to see through my bullshit. Even when we were kids, even when I was trying my hardest to be what everyone expected, he’d seen me. The real me.
Apparently, that hadn’t changed.
I shook my head and closed out of Instagram before I spent another twenty minutes staring at my own face like some kind of narcissist. I had actual work to do, which was why I’d come to Dockside in the first place—Evie Alder made the best cup of coffee in town, and her sister Emmy was a whiz with pastries.
That, and their WiFi was faster than mine.
“More coffee, Harrison?”
I glanced up to find Evie standing beside my table, coffee carafe in hand. She’d been shooting me curious looks all morning.
“Please,” I answered, pushing my mug toward her.
She refilled it, but lingered nearby, wiping down the already-clean table beside mine.
Yeah, definitely curious.
“Okay, I know this is me being nosy, but I have to ask. What’s the deal with you and Jeremy Price?”
Small towns, I swear.
“What about us?” I asked, feeling heat creep up my neck.
Evie smiled innocently, but her eyes sparkled. “My mom saw you two at Red Barn Repair Company yesterday, and couldn’t wait to tell me how cozy you two were.”
I held back a snort.
We’d gone to pick up extra supplies for the event on Saturday. Jeremy had stood close while I’d debated between two types of lightbulbs, his hand occasionally brushing my lower back. Nothing scandalous, but apparently enough to get noticed.
“We’re friends,” I said, which wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the complete truth.
The truth was much more complicated. We hadn’t defined what we were doing.
We’d spent the last four days talking, texting, stealing hours together when we could.
We’d had dinner at my place twice. He’d stayed over once.
We’d laughed more than I’d expected, touched more than I’d ever allowed myself to hope for.
And yes, we’d fucked. Multiple times, in multiple positions, in nearly every room of my house, with an enthusiasm that suggested we were both trying to make up for lost time.
But the word “boyfriend” stuck in my throat every time I thought about saying it out loud. Partner? That felt too clinical. Lover? Too casual for what this was becoming.
So we hadn’t defined it and hadn’t had The Talk.
And honestly? I was terrified to push for one.
Because this thing between us felt too new, too fragile.
“Uh-huh. Friends.” Evie didn’t look convinced. “Well, whatever you are, it’s nice to see you two hanging out again. You were practically glued at the hip back in—”
The bell over the door chimed, cutting Evie’s words off mid-sentence.
I didn’t need to look up to know who’d walked in. My whole body knew, everything in me going still and so damn aware.
When I did look up, Jeremy was standing just inside the doorway, snowflakes melting in his dark hair, his usual scowl firmly in place as he surveyed the café. He was wearing his work coat and boots, clearly having come straight from the farm.
Then his eyes found mine.
And just like that, the scowl disappeared. His expression softened, his mouth quirking into something that wasn’t quite a smile but was close enough to make my chest tight.
“Well,” Evie murmured beside me, her voice knowing. “Just friends. Right.”
She walked away before I could respond, leaving me to watch Jeremy approach. He moved through the space with that same confident stride I remembered from high school, but it was different, too. More settled in himself. Less like he was trying to prove something.
“Hey,” he said when he reached my table.
“Hey, yourself.” I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Ran out of K-Cups.” He glanced at my laptop, catching sight of the half-dozen browser tabs I had open to various social media platforms. “Working?”
“Trying to. Charlie’s evil spawn might have created a monster.”
That earned me an actual smile. “Yeah, they’re pretty proud of themselves. Maggie and Eli keep showing me the farm page’s analytics like I know what the fuck they mean.”
“Harrison!” Emmy’s voice rang out from behind the counter. “You want to try this kouign amann?”
“Oh my god, yes!” I made grabby hands. “They’re my favorite.”
“Hey, Jeremy,” Evie said, sidling up to our table. “Let me guess. Black coffee, nothing fancy?”
Jeremy’s scowl returned, but it was playful. “You say that like it’s a character flaw.”
“It is,” Evie shot back, her hand on her hip. “Live a little. Try one of our famous peppermint lattes.”
“I’ll stick with coffee that tastes like coffee, thanks,” he said,
I watched Evie pour Jeremy’s drink while Emmy plated my pastry, and something warm and content settled in my chest.
Evie went to grab the pastry and set it down on the table between Jeremy and me with a smile that was far too knowing for my comfort.
“You look different today, Jeremy,” she said, her tone coy.
Jeremy’s eyes cut to her. “Different how?”
She glanced between us, her expression shifting from mischievous to delighted. “Not just you, but him too. You’ve both got the faces of men who are all up in their feels.” She twirled her free hand in front of her face.
Jeremy’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
My heart kicked against my ribs. This was it—the moment where we could deflect, change the subject, and keep whatever this was between us private for a little longer.
But Jeremy didn’t deflect. He looked at me, then back at Evie. “That must be it then,” he said simply.
The café seemed to go quiet. Or maybe that was just my ears ringing so loud I couldn’t hear anything else.
“I knew it!” Evie gloated. “I saw those goat-chasing videos. Whew. You could cut the tension with a knife. How long has this been going on?”
“It’s still new,” Jeremy answered, his voice steady. “But uh … yeah. We’re together.”
Together.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t quite process what Jeremy had just done.
Jeremy was an incredibly private person. While he wasn’t hiding his sexuality, he didn’t broadcast it either. His family had known, obviously, and a couple of his friends did too, but this was different.
Standing in Dockside Café, telling Evie Alder of all people that we were together—this was an announcement. This was him choosing to be seen, knowing full well that by tonight, half of Mistletoe Bay would know that Jeremy Price was dating a man.
He was coming out. Publicly.
For me.
For us.
My throat felt tight. “Jeremy.”
“What?” He glanced at me with a challenge in his eyes. But then it morphed into something that looked more like a question—an “Is this okay?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
It was more than okay. So far beyond okay I didn’t have words for it.
Evie was practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh my god, this is amazing. You two are—wait, Mara is going to lose her mind. She loves a good romance. Especially since she and Graham are all nice and cozy in her family home.”
“Please don’t make this weird,” Jeremy muttered, but there was no real heat in it.
“Too late!” Evie grinned.
“Evie, leave them be and get back here. There’s a pick-up order coming in, and you know I can’t work this espresso machine,” Emmy called out. She was shaking her head and mouthing an apology as Evie practically danced back to her post behind the counter.
Jeremy watched her go, then turned back to me. “Sorry. Should’ve asked if you were okay with—”
“Don’t.” I cut him off. “Don’t apologize. I’m …” I swallowed around the small lump of emotion that had formed in my throat. “I’m good, Jeremy. Better than good.”
His expression softened again, and I was struck by how different he looked when he let his guard down. How much younger. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He pulled out the chair across from me and sat, wrapping his hands around his coffee mug. “So. You’re a social media monster now, huh?”