Chapter 8
Theo
Well. This is happening.
I’m standing backstage at the community center in a button-down shirt that Nate ironed for me because apparently I can’t be trusted to look presentable on my own. He’s not wrong. Left to my own devices, I’d show up in flannel and call it formal.
The space behind the stage is cramped—folding chairs, a table of water bottles, and a curtain that doesn’t quite block the noise from the main room. Lucas is checking his phone for the third time in two minutes. Nate is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, doing his statue impression.
And I’m trying not to think about her.
It’s going great. Really. Top marks for emotional regulation.
Yesterday, I almost touched her face. Stood on Main Street like an idiot with my hand halfway to her cheek, telling her things I probably shouldn’t have said. That not deserving forgiveness doesn’t stop me from wanting to give it to her anyway.
Real smooth, Holt. Very mysterious and aloof. She definitely didn’t see right through you.
I’ve been replaying it on loop ever since. The way she leaned toward me. The way her scent wrapped around me—honey and citrus, same as always, like the last ten years didn’t happen. The way my whole body screamed yes, finally, her while my brain was yelling abort, abort, we talked about this.
I walked away. Got in my truck and drove off because I promised Nate. Because we agreed.
But I didn’t want to.
“You’re thinking about her.”
I look up. Lucas is watching me with that expression he gets when he’s diagnosing something.
“No.”
“Liar.” He runs a hand through his hair—nervous tell, always has been. “We’re all thinking about her. We’ve been thinking about her for ten years.”
“Lucas.” Nate’s voice is quiet. Warning tone.
“What? It’s true.” Lucas shrugs, but his shoulders are tense. “She’s going to be out there tonight. Watching us get bid on by other women. You think that’s not going to be—”
“She won’t come.” Nate pushes off the wall. “She knows we don’t want to see her.”
I snort before I can stop myself. “Do we?”
They both look at me.
“I mean...” I scrub a hand over my face. “I know what we agreed. I know why. But it’s been ten years, Nate. She came back. She’s trying. At some point don’t we have to at least hear her out?”
Nate doesn’t answer. Just looks at me with those eyes that give away nothing, then turns back to stare at the curtain.
Applause from the main room. Another bachelor done.
“How many before us?” Lucas asks.
“Four.” Nate checks his watch. “Sam, Jake, the college kids. Then us.”
“Then Milo and Elijah. Grand finale.”
“Lucky them.”
More applause. Tessa’s voice drifts back, announcing the next bachelor.
“Theo.” Lucas’s voice pulls me back. “You’re up.”
Already?
“Go.” Nate finally looks at me. His expression is unreadable, but something flickers in his eyes—worry, maybe, or resignation. “And don’t—”
“Do anything stupid. I know.” I force a smile. “When have I ever?”
He doesn’t smile back. Just nods once.
I push through the curtain.
The main room is packed. Fairy lights everywhere, candles on the tables, red and pink decorations covering every surface. Valentine’s Day apparently attacked this place and won. Elijah’s stage is solid under my feet—good craftsmanship, that guy knows what he’s doing.
I scan the crowd automatically, trying to look charming or whatever bachelors are supposed to do at these things, and that’s when I see her.
Cara.
She’s sitting near the middle in a green dress that makes her eyes impossible to look away from.
Dark hair down past her shoulders, catching the candlelight.
She’s beautiful. She’s always been beautiful—even when we were kids and I didn’t have words for what I was feeling, I knew she was something special.
Our eyes meet across the room.
My heart does something stupid. Skips or stutters or whatever hearts do when they finally see the person they’ve been waiting for. Even from here, I can catch hints of her scent—honey and citrus drifting through the crowd, finding me like it always did. Like it was made to find me.
She came.
After everything—the cold shoulders and the avoided calls and me driving away like a coward—she came anyway.
“Theo Holt,” Tessa announces, and I drag my attention back to the stage. “Owner of Holt Landscaping and the reason every garden in Honeyridge Falls actually blooms.”
Scattered applause. Someone wolf-whistles—probably Mrs. Henderson. I smile and try to look like I’m not having an internal crisis.
“Starting bid, fifty dollars.”
Paddles go up. Fifty. Seventy-five. A hundred.
Then Cara raises her paddle.
“Two hundred.”
The room goes quiet.
She’s looking right at me. Chin lifted. Shoulders back. Not apologetic at all—determined. Like she’s been planning this and she’s not backing down now.
My chest tightens in a way that has nothing to do with the shirt Nate ironed.
“Two hundred dollars,” Mayor Bradley says, sounding surprised. “Do I hear two-fifty?”
Someone bids. Two-fifty. Three hundred.
Cara doesn’t hesitate. “Four hundred.”
Murmurs ripple through the crowd. People are looking at her, then at me, then back at her. Mrs. Patterson’s eyebrows have achieved new heights.
She’s fighting for me. In front of the whole town, she’s fighting for me.
“Four hundred dollars. Going once... going twice...”
No one bids against her.
“Sold! To the lady in green.”
I walk off stage feeling slightly dazed. Lucas is waiting in the wings, his face doing that carefully blank thing it does when he’s processing something big.
“I know,” he says before I can speak. “I saw.”
“Lucas—”
“I’m up.” He smooths down his shirt and heads for the stage.
I find a spot where I can watch. Lucas takes his position, looking uncomfortable under all the attention. Tessa does her introduction—Dr. Lucas Price, beloved town physician, pillar of the community.
Bidding starts. Fifty. Seventy-five.
Cara raises her paddle. “Three hundred.”
The crowd buzzes. She’s doing it again.
Someone counters. Three-fifty.
“Four-fifty,” Cara says. Calm. Steady.
Silence.
“Sold.”
Lucas walks off stage and passes me without a word, but his scent has gone sharp—bergamot cutting through the sandalwood.
Then it’s Nate.
He climbs the stairs with that rigid control he gets when he’s locking everything down. Button-down shirt instead of his deputy uniform, but he still carries himself like he’s on duty.
“Deputy Nate Thorn,” Tessa announces. “Keeping our streets safe and always first to help a neighbor in need.”
Someone whoops from the back. Probably Mrs. Henderson.
“Starting bid, fifty dollars.”
Cara’s paddle is up before Tessa finishes speaking. “Fifty.”
“Seventy.” Mrs. Henderson, grinning like this is better than her soap operas.
“Eighty.”
“Three-fifty.” Cara’s voice cuts through clear and certain.
Dead silence.
Nate’s shoulders go rigid. He’s not looking at Cara—he’s looking at some point above the crowd, jaw tight.
“Three hundred fifty dollars,” Mayor Bradley says slowly. “Going once... going twice...”
“Sold.”
Nate walks off stage like a man walking to his own trial. When he reaches us, his scent has gone cold—no woodsmoke, no pine, just ice.
“She bought all three of us,” Lucas says quietly.
Nate doesn’t respond.
“What do we do?” I ask.
Silence. Then Lucas sighs. “We honor the auction. That’s the rules—winners get dinner with the bachelors they won.”
“So we sit with her.”
Nate doesn’t respond. Just pushes past us toward the main room.
That’s a yes, apparently.
Tables are set up throughout the room. Servers bringing out plates. The whole place smells like filet mignon and fresh bread.
We find our table near the back. Reserved for Cara Donovan + Guests.
And there she is.
Sitting alone with her hands folded in her lap, looking like she’s not sure whether to be terrified or defiant. She’s chosen defiant, from the set of her jaw, but her eyes give her away.
Her scent hits me the second I get close. Honey and citrus, sweet and familiar, but with something underneath—something nervous. Every alpha instinct I have wants to fix it, soothe it, make it better.
I slide into the seat across from her instead.
Lucas takes the chair beside me. Nate sits at the end, as far from her as the round table allows, and immediately picks up his water glass.
For a long moment, nobody speaks.
“Thank you,” Cara finally says. “For sitting down. I know you didn’t have to.”
“Auction rules,” Lucas says carefully.
“Right.” She takes a breath. “Still. Thank you.”
The servers arrive with plates. Filet mignon, roasted vegetables, bread. None of us move to eat.
“I know you don’t want to hear excuses.” Cara’s voice is steadier now, like she practiced this. “I’m not going to give you any. But I owe you an explanation. A real one. And I need you to hear it, even if it doesn’t change anything.”
Lucas sets down his fork. Nate’s hand tightens around his water glass. I just watch her, waiting.
“I was drowning.” She says it simply. Quietly.
“That first semester at college. I was so homesick I couldn’t breathe.
I was struggling in my classes, terrified of failing, surrounded by people I didn’t know.
And every time I talked to you—” Her voice catches.
“Every time I heard your voices, I wanted to give up. Come home. Let you take care of me.”
Her scent shifts as she speaks—the honey going thin, the citrus sharp with old pain. Distressed omega. Every instinct I have wants to reach across the table and pull her into my arms.
I grip the edge of my chair instead.
She looks down at her untouched plate.
“And that scared me more than anything.”
I feel something shift in my chest. Beside me, Lucas has gone very still.