Chapter Twenty-Four
Evan
Tim found me exactly where I’d been for the last twenty minutes—propped against the wooden railing outside Mabel’s, staring into a paper cup of coffee that had long since stopped steaming.
He didn’t offer a greeting. He just banked his shoulder against the post next to mine and joined me in surveying the quiet morning traffic of Firebrook Valley’s main drag. Tim had a way of occupying space that made you feel the weight of his badge even when he wasn’t wearing the uniform.
“You planning on drinking that?” he asked, his voice cutting through the low rumble of a passing tractor. “Or are you just waiting for it to grow a personality?”
I looked down at the dark, still liquid. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Right. That explains why you’ve been burning a hole in the pavement with that stare for the last quarter hour.”
I let out a breath that was half-laugh, half-sigh. Tim had been a cop too long; he could spot a man chewing on his own thoughts from three blocks away.
“You in town long?” he asked.
“Few days.”
“New York treating you alright?”
“It’s . . . work.”
Tim cut a side-eye toward me, his brow jumping. “That’s the same tone people use right before they admit they’re drowning.”
I shifted my weight, the old railing creaking under my arms. “The company is solid. Bella’s finally found some level ground. Dad’s even behaving himself.”
“Now that’s a miracle worth reporting.”
“No kidding.”
We stood in a comfortable, heavy silence as a dusty pickup rumbled past, the driver tossing a wave we both returned out of habit.
“So,” Tim said, his voice dropping an octave into his “official” register. “What’s actually eating at you?”
I took a slow, lung-filling breath of the mountain air. “Nora.”
“Ah.” He exhaled the word like it was a conclusion he’d reached years ago.
“I’m waiting,” I admitted, the confession feeling heavy in the morning light.
“For what?”
“For her to forgive me? I guess. I don’t want to rush her.”
Tim actually blinked at that. He turned fully toward me, his arms crossing over his chest. “Evan. You two have been dancing around each other for years. That’s not rushing.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, the tension knotting into a physical ache. “I want to make sure I’m doing the right thing. For her. I’ve already fucked things up. I’m not pushing her into being with me. She asked for time and I’m giving it to her.”
Tim snorted, a sharp, ugly sound. “Bullshit.”
I stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not waiting because it’s better for her,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “You’re waiting because you still don’t think you’re good enough to stand next to her. You’re hiding behind ‘noble’ when you’re really just ‘scared.’”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died in my throat. The silence stretched, and Tim nodded once, a grim “gotcha” expression on his face.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought. Let me ask you something—did you think Brady was good enough for her?”
I frowned, the memory of Brady making my jaw tight. “That was different.”
“Explain the logic to me, Evan. Because from where I’m sitting, you’re holding yourself to a standard you don’t apply to anyone else.
It’s a convenient way to keep one foot out the door.
” He leaned his hip against the rail, his expression softening a fraction.
“Look, I don’t have a lot of friends. Mostly because I’m a picky bastard who doesn’t like most people.
” He pointed a blunt finger at my chest. “But I knew when we were ten years old that you were the real deal.”
I raised an eyebrow, trying to deflect with a smirk. “Oh yeah? What gave it away? My stunning personality?”
“The way you spent your Saturdays fixing bikes for the younger kids,” Tim countered, ticking items off on his fingers.
“The way you shoveled Old Man Carver’s drive every winter without being asked.
The two weeks you spent sweating over Mr. Patel’s taxes because the poor guy was drowning in paperwork he couldn’t read. ”
“That was a headache,” I muttered, looking away.
“But you did it. No job was too small, no person too insignificant. You just . . . helped. Now, were you perfect? Hell no. You spent three years dating half the girls in the county and earned a reputation that made every brother in town want to lock their sisters’ doors.”
I winced. “That’s a little exaggerated.”
“Not by much,” Tim said dryly. “But we don’t measure a man by his least mature moments.
We measure him by who he decided to become after the dust settled.
” He jabbed his finger lightly against my ribs.
“The question isn’t whether I think you’re right for Nora.
The question is: Who do you think you are?
The kid from ten years ago, or the man standing here right now? ”
The question sat between us, thick and demanding an answer I wasn’t ready to give.
Tim’s expression shifted, the casual banter dropping away. “Speaking of men stepping up . . . we need to talk about the feud.”
I groaned. “Yeah. That mess.”
“You’ve done something interesting since you’ve been back,” Tim said. “Your dad is a thousand percent better. Gabe Holliston has mellowed out more in the last few months than he has in thirty years. He’s actually listening.”
That caught me off guard. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. But,” Tim paused, his gaze darkening, “the opposite is true of Cody Burke. Call it cop instinct, but something about that man is starting to feel brittle. He’s getting quieter. Harder. He’s winding himself tighter instead of letting the air out.”
I thought of Nora, the way she carried the weight of her father’s expectations like a second skin.
“She’s trying,” Tim added, reading my mind. “I see her out there, doing everything she can to keep the peace, to keep him steady. But Cody is getting worse. And that worries me, Evan. A man wound that tight eventually snaps.”
He held my gaze for a long beat, making sure the warning landed, then he pushed off the railing. “Well. I’ve said my piece. I’ve got a shift to start.”
He started down the wooden steps toward his truck.
“Tim,” I called out.
He stopped, looking back over his shoulder.
“You really think I’m good enough for her?”
Tim gave me a look that was equal parts amusement and genuine disbelief. “I think,” he said slowly, “that the only person still asking that question is you.”
He climbed into the sheriff’s truck and pulled away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I’d been hiding. I’d used Europe and the high-rise offices of New York as a shield, convincing myself that the distance made me important, that it justified the absence.
But Tim was right. Standing halfway in wasn’t bravery; it was a slow-motion retreat.
And Nora had felt it.
That was the part I couldn’t dodge anymore.
Nora hadn’t walked into my life halfway. She’d shown up fully—clear, honest, all in—and I’d met her with hesitation dressed up as honor.
I hadn’t just stepped aside.
I’d left her standing there alone.
If I was going to be in Nora’s life, I couldn’t be a guest. I couldn’t be the man who waited for permission to care. Nora Burke deserved someone who chose her and waited for her no matter how long it took.
All in. No half-measures.