Chapter 23
MAGGIE
We walked out of the bank into the afternoon light, and I took a deep, shuddering breath. Blaire’s palm was warm against mine, her grip a steady anchor as the doors shut behind us. She didn’t let go, not even when I tried to blink back the hot sting in my eyes.
None of it felt real yet.
I stared down at the papers in my hand, at the Willow Grove Bank and Trust stamped at the top, and the signature line that now carried both of our names.
We could see all of Main Street from here: the post office, the old movie theater, the florist, and my bakery.
My bakery.
My chest ached with it, the truth of what Blaire had done, how she’d walked into that bank and offered up real pieces of her own life just to keep me standing here.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it, about her mama’s land, and how she’d handed it over without a second thought.
The gratitude pressed against my ribs, too much and too raw to ever say out loud.
I didn’t deserve it, but I wanted so damn badly to try.
I squeezed Blaire’s hand so hard I worried I might hurt her, but she just held on tighter and looked at me like she could see straight through to the pit of all my tangled-up feelings.
The gratitude in my chest threatened to claw its way out of me. I stopped right there on the sidewalk, needing a second just to hold myself together, and Blaire waited patiently, her thumb stroking along my hand.
“Blaire,” I managed, but my voice shook. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”
“Stop it.” She pulled me against her until we both wrapped our arms around each other. “I already told you that you don’t have to thank me. You’re my family.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and let the words burn right through me.
Family. Blaire said it like it was so damn simple. Like all the mess and hurt and desperate places in me could be stitched up just by the way she loved me.
And what gutted me the most was the way my own sister had done the opposite. Ella had wanted off my loan, wanted to wipe the slate clean when she knew I couldn’t do it without her, like I was just another weight she needed to shed to step into her real life.
But then there was Blaire, just handing me her help, like there would never be a version of the world where she didn’t want me in it. There was no price. No hesitation. Just love.
“I know.” I nodded against her. “But that was your mama’s land.”
“It’s just dirt, Mags. What matters is still standing right here.
” Blaire’s laugh was a quiet, small exhale against my shoulder.
“Plus, my mama would have loved you. If she was here, she’d have marched right into that bank herself and offered up everything she had for you.
” She leaned back slightly and cupped my face in her hands.
“You make it real easy to love you. You know that, right?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My throat worked around a knot so thick I thought I might choke on it, but Blaire just kept holding on, wild auburn curls spilling in every direction and her brown eyes clear as summer sky.
“I love you,” she said, enunciating every word like she needed me to actually hear it. “And there is nothing you can do to make me stop.”
I nodded, her hands still warm against my face, and she smiled as she looked over my shoulder.
“Now.” Her voice shifted to something lighter. “I will be genuinely furious with you if you don’t go to that man.”
I turned in the direction she was looking, and Hunter was there, leaning against his truck at the curb, waiting for me.
I watched him for a second, soaking in the sight of that stubborn, broad-shouldered man standing like he would go to war with the world for me if I only let him.
His arms were folded across his chest, and even from here I could see how the sun caught in his hair.
His eyes met mine, and that cocky little smirk that I loved formed on his lips.
I didn’t realize Blaire had let go of my hand until I was already moving. For a second, my legs almost gave out, like all the adrenaline holding me together went rushing out at once, but I made it to him anyway.
He straightened as I reached him, and his arms came around me before I could say a word, pulling me in like he’d been holding his breath the whole time I was gone.
“How did it go?” The words were low, pressed into my hair.
“Good,” I said quietly. “We did it.” My voice was so small I hardly recognized it, all the relief and wreckage tumbling together until it made my chest feel too full.
He leaned back, just enough to see my face, and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
He opened the passenger door before I could even get my bearings, and a laugh slipped out before I could think better of it. The sun turned every inch of him gold, and there wasn’t a force on God’s green earth that could have kept me from climbing up into that truck.
He didn’t say much on the drive out to the far side of Calloway Ranch, just kept my hand in his and lifted it to his mouth every so often, like he couldn’t help it.
The cab smelled like leather and him, and I watched the land roll by out the window and felt each one settle somewhere deep in my chest.
He glanced over at me. His jaw was tight in a way I hadn’t seen before. He looked nervous.
I wanted to ask what he was thinking, but the words stuck in my throat.
Instead, I watched the Calloway land blur past the window, sunlight over every inch of it.
From here, the ranch looked peaceful. Like the world couldn’t touch it, and maybe that was the whole point.
Maybe that was what he wanted to show me, why his lips brushed against my skin every few minutes like he couldn’t stand even a few inches between us.
The dirt road wound through tree lines I’d never seen before, tucking us deeper into the far east side of the Calloway land. I had no reason to ever come out this far, and it showed. Wild grass ran tall on either side of us, and wildflowers pushed up through every gap like the land.
Hunter eased off the gas, and I looked out toward the lake where a half-built house rose over the water. Sunlight poured over the exposed plywood and unfinished stonework that wrapped around the bottom of the house, but the way it sat on the edge of the water made it feel like it belonged there.
A promise staked straight into the dirt.
Hunter cut the engine, and he didn’t move. He just sat there, jaw working while he stared out at the place like maybe he was still trying to talk himself into bringing me here.
I couldn’t help it. I reached my hand out, fingers tracing over his jaw without thinking, and his warm brown eyes finally found mine.
“What is this place?” I asked as he kissed my palm.
“This is mine,” he said, voice quiet and a little raw at the edges. “Or…it will be, when I finally get it finished.”
I blinked at him, then out the window at the bones of the house. There was something so naked and unfinished about it, but the way it staked its claim on the land made my chest go tight.
He shoved open the truck door and hopped out, and I quickly followed him.
The air hit me hard, heavy with honeysuckle and the sharp, sunbaked scent of the lake stretching behind the unfinished house.
The sound of cicadas rolled over the water loud enough to drown out the low rush of my pulse, but not enough to steady it.
Hunter waited by the front of the truck, hat tipped low, just watching me take it all in. The porch was nothing but raw planks, but he offered his hand as I climbed up and his grip did something dangerous to my composure.
The air inside the house was warm and dense, thick with the smell of cut lumber, and every footstep echoed like we were trespassers in some holy place. Hunter didn’t let go of me as my breath hitched. He moved through the skeleton of the house like he’d already memorized every stud and every board.
“How long have you been working on this?” I asked, breathlessly.
“Years,” he said as he ran his hand over his jaw. “My dad’s given me shit for a while about finishing in, but I didn’t know what to do with it, with myself.” He stepped away, and the absence of his touch left my skin prickling.
He moved through a small gap where drywall should have been, and I followed close behind.
The sun hit harder here, spilling through the massive window and pooling in thick, gold veins along the beams and sawdust. The kitchen was nothing but bones and empty space, but I could already see it.
I could see the island crowded with bowls and flour, the warmth of the oven radiating through every inch of the house.
Hunter traced his hand along the length of the large island that looked like it had been meticulously built.
“I started working on it again over the last few weeks.” He turned to look at me, his eyes burning into mine.
He stared so hard it was like he was trying to brand something onto me, and my skin went tight all over, goosebumps covering every inch of me even in the heat.
“I didn’t give a damn about finishing this place until you,” he said, rubbing his thumb into the edge of the wood. “Didn’t see the point. But now, I can’t stop picturing you in it, Mags. Every room. Every damn meal in this kitchen.”
My pulse thudded hard against my ribs as I looked around.
“I don’t even know if this is what you’d like.” The words rushed out of him. “But I can’t stop thinking about you in it anyway.”
I watched the muscle in his jaw jump as he stared at the far wall, stubborn as all hell, refusing to meet my eyes now.