Chapter 28 Maya
MAYA
While Claire was knee-deep in exams, and with both her and Elia’s blessing, I took baby Dylan downtown to run a few errands. I wasn’t alone either. Sheryn was finally back in town after her honeymoon and was staying in Bozeman to help her mom through a rough patch.
“You know, D, I’ve never really been a baby person,” I said, eyeing him in the rearview mirror as he kicked his chubby little legs. “But you? You might actually be cuter than Toby.”
He let out a little giggle.
“You know who Toby is, right?” I added. “The pony?”
He let out a giggle, one of those belly-deep ones that made your heart melt sideways.
“Yeah, I know,” I said, grinning. “Big compliment.”
Sheryn sat beside me, her hair pulled into one of her casual, too-cute messy buns, looking like she’d never left. I glanced at her, curious.
“So, where’s yours?” I teased.
She barked a laugh. “Ha! You’d think, right? The way I used to baby that American Girl Bitty Baby like she was real? Back then, I thought motherhood would be all matching bows and bath time songs.”
I snorted. “That doll had more outfits than you.”
“She did!” Sheryn grinned. “But real babies? Different ball game. Nick and I talked about it, and we’re holding off for now. We want a little more us time before we dive in.”
“Huh,” I said, nodding like I totally got it. And I did.
Sheryn leaned over her shoulder, cooing, “Sorry, D! You’re making it real hard to stick to the plan, though.”
Dylan stayed unbothered.
Buffaloberry Hill was in full swing by the time I parked. The sun was out, kids were zigzagging along the sidewalk with ice cream cones that didn’t stand a chance, and a few folks were gathered outside the diner, sipping their coffees.
At Paul’s Hardware, Dylan happily pointed at tools as if he knew exactly what he needed. At fifteen months, he was still a little unsteady on his feet, so the stroller was pulling double duty, as transport and shopping cart supervisor.
“Well, would you look at that,” Paul said as he rounded the counter to greet us. “Where are Claire and Elia hiding?”
“Up to their eyeballs,” I said. “Ranch chores, veterinarian exams…you name it. I figured I’d chip in and take Dylan off their hands for a bit.”
Paul reached down and tickled Dylan’s cheek, earning himself a full gummy grin and a tiny string of drool for his efforts.
“Good to have you back, Sheryn,” he said, turning her way. “Nick was pacing like a rooster in a thunderstorm while you were gone.”
Sheryn snorted. “That man couldn’t find his socks without texting me a picture of his drawer.”
Paul chuckled, clearly satisfied. “What are you ladies after today? I can help you track it down.”
“Oh, we’re just browsing, Paul,” I said, waving him off. “We promise not to rearrange your shelves too much.”
A pair of women from the paint aisle wandered over, drawn by either the baby or the gossip. Possibly both.
“He’s got the Lucas look, alright,” one said, peeking into the stroller with a knowing grin.
“Let’s just hope he gets Elia’s good sense,” the other added with a wink.
I smirked. “And Claire’s patience. Kid’s gonna need it.”
They all laughed, and Dylan waved a little fist in agreement.
We wandered into the fasteners aisle, scanning for a couple of screws to fix Noah’s nightstand—the one that was supposed to be new but wobbled like its days were numbered.
“I swear, the legs on that thing are allergic to balance,” I muttered.
Sheryn smirked. “Maybe it’s just following Noah’s lead. Solid most of the time, but give it a reason, and it leans.”
I elbowed her. “Noah’s not leaning. He’s perfectly upright.”
“Sure,” she said. “Until someone breathes near him.”
I held up a pack of screws. “These look promising. If this doesn’t work, I’m filing for furniture divorce.”
She snorted. “Better get custody of the lamp.”
Laughing, I tossed them into the basket. We loaded up on a few more bits and pieces before moving toward the register.
Annette, Paul’s daughter, was manning the cashier station. She had cropped hair, sharp cheekbones, and an air of calm competence that never wavered, even when Dylan launched into his happy squeals from the stroller.
My phone buzzed just as she was bagging up my purchase. She barely looked up, but I nodded in thanks and tucked the bag under my arm.
“Hey, cowboy,” I said, answering the call.
“Hey, Blue. Where are ya?”
“At Paul’s. We’re finally fixing that wonky nightstand of yours.”
He chuckled. “Sounds like hard labor. Think you’ve earned a fat, sweet milkshake? Maybe with crispy waffles on the side?”
My stomach practically sang. “Hell yeah. Milkshake and waffles, I’m in!”
Behind me, Sheryn must’ve caught enough to get the gist. “For me too?” she called out, loud enough that Noah heard through the line.
“Of course,” he said.
Dylan let out a loud coo from the stroller.
Noah’s tone gave way. “Oh hey, little guy! Maya taking good care of you?”
“Pretty sure I’m the town’s main attraction with him in tow.”
“He’s got that kind of pull,” Noah said, a smile in his voice. “Meet me at the park?”
“Already on my way.”
Sheryn helped me tuck the shopping bag onto the stroller handle, securing it between Dylan’s snack cup and a squeaky toy shaped like a cow.
While she was focused on adjusting the straps, I pulled my phone away from my ear and gave in to habit, swiping open Annamaria’s profile. Dumb, yeah. But necessary.
Same curated garbage and overfiltered selfies. Some throwaway caption about how birthdays should last forever, minus the aging.
Sure. Like mother, like daughter. Her face practically yelled Botox.
Dylan reached for my phone. Even he knew I needed to quit scrolling.
“Alright, alright. I’m putting it away,” I muttered, just as my thumb landed on an older post.
Lauren Conrad’s wedding. Vintage California.
I’ve always dreamed of a vintage wedding, and Queen Conrad is the perfect inspo. We’ll add our own twists, of course. Thanks @napoleonweddings for making my dream come true.
Vintage. Of course.
It was only a matter of time before the necklace came back into play. Lauren Conrad hadn’t worn one, but one of those “twists” might be exactly what I was afraid of.
Suddenly, Dylan squirmed and started sulking.
“Don’t tell me he’s about to turn into a gremlin,” Sheryn deadpanned.
I shoved my phone away.
“Oh, you wanna walk?” I asked Dylan, already bracing for it. Sure enough, he wriggled harder and let out a scream.
“Okay. Okay.” I set him down, and he took off toddling, his hand in mine, happy as anything.
I made my way toward the exit, one hand clutching the shopping bag, the other intercepting Dylan’s attempts to grab every coat sleeve that passed within toddler range. I was half-focused, half-wrangling, and didn’t see them until they were right in front of me.
Two men in uniform.
My feet stopped dead. My heart didn’t. It slammed against my ribs like it wanted out.
Both wore sheriff stars, and both carried the kind of calm that made my nerves prickle. I was already halfway to turning around, back toward the store and back to Sheryn, who was still inside, trapped in a friendly ambush with Paul. But too late.
“Whoa there,” one of the men said with a polite dip of his head. “Didn’t mean to give you a scare.”
The taller one extended a hand. “Howard Colton. Sheriff.”
The other one followed. “Deputy Granger. We’re just doin’ a sweep through Main.”
My throat suddenly went dry. “I’m Maya,” I said, unsure why I felt the need to keep my last name locked behind my teeth.
They didn’t press.
Instead, they both turned when Dylan’s little feet slapped against the sidewalk, a toy hammer clutched in his fist.
“Well now,” Sheriff Colton said, crouching down. “You got a license for that?”
Dylan dropped his butt onto the pavement and gave the hammer one authoritative tap against the ground.
“That’s official,” Deputy Granger declared.
I let out a shallow breath.
“You two new in town?” the sheriff asked, rising to his full height again.
“I am. But this cheeky monkey is Claire and Elia Lucas’ son.”
“Aah! Yeah! Of course!” Deputy Granger said, keeping Dylan entertained with his funny faces.
“I’m on babysitting duty,” I said as I helped Dylan up. “I’m Noah’s girlfriend.”
“Well, welcome. You ever need anything, folks know where to find us.”
“Thanks,” I murmured.
They tipped their hats, made a few comments about Paul’s prices being highway robbery, and wandered down the sidewalk to say hi to a woman walking two dogs.
Only then did I let myself breathe fully. They were just…normal. No extra questions. No lingering glances.
Just two locals doing their job.
And, apparently, Dylan’s newest fans.
Sheryn finally caught up to me and narrowed her eyes. “Whoa. What did those lawmen say to you?”
“What?”
“You look like a New Yorker who just got slimed by the Ghostbusters.”
I forced a laugh. “They were just getting caught in Dylan’s orbit. You’re imagining the rest.”
We made our way to the car. I buckled Dylan into his seat, and he immediately launched into a passionate, slightly off-key rendition of “Wheels on the Bus.” I joined in, naturally.
We made a whole concert of it on the short drive to the park, his little hands clapping wildly with every verse, mine tapping the wheel to the beat.
The nerves from earlier had mostly melted away by the time I stopped by the park.
I spotted Noah right away.
He’d already laid out the picnic blanket in a shady spot near the cottonwoods. A cooler, a basket, and a thermos stood neatly. And beside him, nose low and ears perked, stood Reko.
It was his first proper outing, with town sidewalks, chatter, and strollers, not just the open fields around The Sundown. He looked equal parts suspicious and curious, sniffing every breeze.
“Ekooooo!” Dylan shouted, arms up like he was greeting a celebrity.
Noah stood, waving us over. “We’ve got turkey sandwiches, crispy waffles, milkshakes, and a dog who’s still not sure if the grass is friend or foe.”
I set Dylan down, and he bolted for the blanket, his legs still finding balance, his enthusiasm years ahead of his coordination.
Reko held his ground until the last second, then gave in with a slow tail wag and let Dylan throw his arms around his neck. It was a mess of joy, and I felt it bloom in my chest.
We sat and ate. Noah deconstructed the crusts with theatrical flair, tossing in sound effects and running commentary. Dylan insisted on feeding bits of meat to Reko, who accepted each offering with patience.
At some point, Dylan ended up with mustard on his cheek, a chip stuck in his curls, and half a cookie mashed into the front of his overalls. He was the happiest little disaster I’d ever seen.
Noah took one look at him and laughed. “It looks like you’d just dropped him in the condiments section.”
“Hey, I’m doing my best,” I said, wiping at Dylan’s cheek while he squirmed as if I were the one being unreasonable. “You try feeding someone who thinks spoons are the enemy.”
Sheryn sipped her milkshake and grinned. “He’s clearly thriving. You sure he’s not yours, Noah?”
Noah leaned back, his hands raised. “Whoa. I just held the diaper bag, Sheryn. Let’s not start a town rumor.”
I smirked. “Too late. Someone probably already posted about it on the community board.”
“You know what they say,” Sheryn said, poking her straw in her cup. “First comes diaper duty, then comes baby fever.”
“I’m safe,” I said. “The baby train’s definitely headed your way first.”
Sheryn narrowed her eyes. “Excuse you, didn’t we talk about this at the store?”
“Yeah, yeah. And we both know the more someone says ‘not now,’ the faster two become one,” I said.
Noah nearly snorted milkshake out of his nose. “Please don’t drag me into this. I’ve spent years convincing myself Two Become One was just a Spice Girls song, not a prophecy.”
Right about then, Nick pulled up at the curb, clearly on some kind of mission from the shop.
“Trouble?” Sheryn asked as she stood.
“Labels,” Nick said with a sigh. “Someone swapped the alfalfa with the sweet feed again.”
“Scandalous,” I deadpanned. “Better notify the spreadsheet before the goats start a mutiny.”
Sheryn tossed a piece of waffle at me. “Don’t come crying to me when your backyard chickens end up bouncing off the walls.”
She kissed Dylan’s head, winked at me, and climbed into Nick’s truck.
And just like that, it was the three of us again—me, Noah, and Dylan. The sugar, the sunshine, and the almost suspicious peace.
I settled closer to Noah. “I met the sheriff and the deputy at Paul’s,” I said.
“You okay? Did they say anything?”
“No. They just got completely swooned over by Dylan,” I said, trying to keep it light. “But the nerves were there. I really hope no news is actually good news.”
“Come here.” He opened an arm, and I leaned into him. His hand traced slow lines up and down my back. “Whatever shows up, we’ll face it. I’ve got you.”
“Part of me wants it to just…happen. Be caught. Get it over with.”
“You took back the necklace to do something good. There’s nothing noble about going back behind bars,” he said quietly. “I’ll defend you, Maya. Like no one else ever did.”
And I knew he would. Back then, I’d had no one. Just some court-appointed lawyer doing his pro bono duty and barely pretending to care. I’d gone to prison with barely a fight.
We both turned to watch Dylan trying to get Reko to sip from a straw. Reko just licked the milkshake off the side and gave Dylan a bored look.
“When everything’s settled, maybe we could…” Noah started, then hesitated. “You know, think about…two become one, then become three?”
I smiled before he could finish. He looked like he was bracing for me to laugh it off, to give him a dozen reasons to hold that thought.
But despite everything I’d told Sheryn, the words came easily.
“I’d love to have a family with you, Noah.”
He lit up. “Seriously?”
“Absolutely.”
He sprang up, took my hands, and spun me in a circle like a fool in love. Which he was. Which I was.
Dylan stared at us, perhaps thinking we’d lost our minds. Reko, unimpressed, dropped onto the grass with a huff.
Yeah, I was the happiest mess in Buffaloberry Hill right now.