Chapter Six
MARC
The rest of the afternoon blurred—vaccines, nail trims, a very defiantly dramatic dachshund with an ear infection, and one elderly cat who refused to make eye contact with anyone and acted like being at the vet was a personal betrayal of the highest order.
She reminded me of Stormy, my brother Drew’s and his fiancée Ellie’s cat.
By five, my shoulders were tight, my head ached, and I was running on fumes.
I picked up the goat and loaded him—still in his crate—into my car, and drove out of town toward my house.
The road curled around trees and open fields as the sky faded into that hazy blue-gray that always made Ruby River feel like a postcard.
Gratitude washed over me. Even on the days I hated small-town living—the gossip, the lack of privacy, and everyone knowing your business—there was no other place I’d rather be than here.
My farmhouse sat at the end of a gravel drive that desperately needed paving before next winter, half-hidden behind old maple trees.
The property had been a working farm once, but now it was mostly unused land—a fenced pasture, a barn that needed repairs, a porch that creaked in exactly three places, and enough space to breathe without someone watching.
It was beautiful in a way that didn’t demand attention. And it spoke of the history of our town. It was solid. Private. Safe.
The goat chose that moment to announce our arrival to the entire county.
“Keep it down,” I muttered as I parked.
He did not “keep it down.”
I carried the crate into the barn, set it on the ground in a stall I’d cleaned out last summer, spread fresh hay across the floor, and opened the latch.
The goat didn’t move.
I stared at him.
He stared back.
“Oh, now you don’t want to get out?” I asked. “Now you’re nervous? You weren’t nervous yesterday when you were trying to destroy Delaney’s entire shop.”
The goat blinked slowly, like he was considering his options.
Then, with exaggerated caution, he placed one cloven hoof out of the crate and sniffed the straw as though he was evaluating my interior decorating choices and finding them lacking.
The other hoof followed, more sniffing, and then he wandered around the stall, exploring every corner with his nose. He let out a satisfied snort before spotting a rope I’d forgotten was hanging over the side of the stall, and grabbed it with his teeth.
“Absolutely not,” I said, lunging forward to take it away from him. The last thing I needed was for him to get a bowel obstruction that required emergency surgery.
He jerked back, teeth and jaw clamped down in his tiny mouth, and in that moment, I understood why some people say goats are assholes.
Fine.
If he wanted to be difficult, I could be difficult, too.
I wrestled the rope away— barely—and hung it safely out of reach. Then I filled a bucket with fresh water, hung a hay net feeder, knowing I’d need to replace it with something sturdier, and watched him as he tested every corner of the stall for weaknesses like a tiny prison escape artist.
The more he became settled, the more my mind drifted.
To Delaney.
To the rules I’d given her.
To the way her voice had sharpened when she said she wouldn’t let the event be turned into a checklist.
She wasn’t wrong. But neither was I.
I ran a hand through my hair and exhaled, the air leaving my lungs in a rush. I needed to see Josh. Not because he’d fix anything. Josh wasn’t the fixing type, but he grounded me. He made things less sharp and helped me see reason when my brain was spinning out.
So when the clock read seven and the goat had stopped trying to gnaw his way to freedom, I showered, changed into a clean polo, and drove back into town.
Axe-Hole was already busy when I arrived.
The neon sign flickered in the window. Laughter spilled through the door every time someone opened it, loud and overwhelming. I hesitated for a minute or two just outside the entrance before stepping inside, bracing for the sensory impact.
Noise. Light. Movement.
My shoulders locked up immediately.
Josh spotted me from behind the bar like he had a sixth sense for my discomfort. He leaned forward, tattooed forearms braced on the counter, and raised his eyebrows.
“There he is,” he said, his voice cutting through the nearby chatter.
“I’m leaving,” I muttered.
Josh grinned. “No. You’re staying.”
I claimed a stool at the end of the bar, where I could see the door—escape route secured—and tried to ignore the way the noise pressed against my skull.
Josh slid a glass of water toward me without asking. He always did that first. He knew I needed to hydrate before I drank anything else. “You look like you’re being haunted by a ghost of your past.”
I glared at him.
He lowered his voice. “Did you meet with Delaney today?”
I chugged my drink. “No.”
“Then what’s got your panties in a twist?”
Now that he’d mentioned her, I couldn’t stop thinking about the woman who was the bane of my existence. “She thinks I’m trying to ruin her life.”
Josh’s expression softened. He’d witnessed enough of our arguments. “Are you?”
“No.”
He studied me. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I wouldn’t do that.” My voice dropped. “No matter how much she hates me.”
“Then why does she think that?”
My gaze settled on the bar top. The wood was scratched and worn, marked by years of elbows and spilled drinks. It was imperfect in a way that felt lived-in.
“I gave her a list of rules,” I said. “Because if I don’t, and things go wrong, there are far worse consequences than she realizes.”
Josh knew the basics of the shelter grant I was applying for. It was our fifth attempt and Theo and I were the closest we’d come to getting it.
He tilted his head. “I get that. But you still need to give and take here, buddy.”
I swallowed.
Behind Josh, a group of people cheered as an axe hit its target.
Apparently, my body hadn’t gotten the message that this was supposed to be fun.
The crowd cheered and my nervous system filed a complaint.
It was the overlap that got me—the thwack of metal, the burst of voices, the bar noise underneath it all—too many sources of input registering at once.
Josh reached under the bar and handed me a pair of foam earplugs.
I stared at them.
Josh shrugged. “You hate it when it’s busy. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t exist in public or get sappy on me.”
My throat tightened. “Thanks, asshole,” I muttered, taking them.
I inserted them and the room immediately softened, dulling sharp edges and voices into something manageable.
I could breathe again.
Josh leaned closer. “So. Delaney.”
I glared at him, wishing he’d drop it.
He smiled like he lived for my suffering. “Talk to me.”
“I have concerns,” I said flatly.
Josh made a face. “Concern is a weird way to describe having a crush.”
“I do not have a—” I stopped.
That wasn’t what this was.
Was it?
My body flashed to yesterday—Delaney’s warmth against my chest, the way she’d fit perfectly in my arms like she’d always belonged there, the scent of lavender that should have bothered me but somehow didn’t.
I swallowed hard.
No. Absolutely not. There was no universe in which I had a crush on Delaney.
We hated each other.
Before he could push again, the front door opened, and my brother Wyatt walked in with Theo and our cousin Adam.
Adam looked like he’d just rolled out from under a car he’d been working on in his shop.
Ripped jeans, T-shirt, light brown hair mussed from probably running his hands through it a hundred times.
Wyatt nodded at me. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I replied.
He slid onto the stool beside me, posture loose and easy as he gave Josh a chin nod. Theo sat on the other side of me while Adam took the spot next to my brother.
Josh pointed at them. “You’re late. I was just about to tell Marc he’s in love.”
Adam’s mouth twitched. “Is he?”
“No,” I said, immediately.
Wyatt glanced at me. Held my gaze and a slow, knowing grin spread across his face—the kind that said more than words ever could. Then he nodded as if he didn’t believe me, but wasn’t going to say it out loud.
Theo sighed. “Don’t tell me this is about Delaney Hart.”
Josh grinned wider. “It’s abso-fucking-lutely about Delaney Hart.”
Adam groaned. “You two have been circling each other for years. Just admit you like each other and put the rest of us out of our misery.”
“We don’t,” I insisted. Why didn’t anyone understand this?
Josh, apparently taking pity on me, shut up and poured us all beers.
Adam smirked in my direction. “I heard you have a new pet.”
I sighed. “It’s temporary.”
Theo glanced away, but not before I saw the guilty expression crossing his face.
“It’s temporary. Right, Theo?” I pressed.
He shrugged, suddenly very interested in his beer.
“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered.
Cool air blasted into the room as the door opened again.
I glanced up automatically. My sister Grace walked in with Penny. Grace’s auburn hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, her hazel-blue eyes bright with laughter as Penny whispered in her ear.
Josh’s entire body changed.
His shoulders straightened. His expression softened at the edges. And his hands stilled on the bar top.
I watched him watch her, and something uncomfortable twisted in my chest.
Because I knew exactly what that was.
The careful attention. The quiet longing. The way someone could rearrange your entire world just by walking into a room.
And I realized with creeping horror that I might’ve worn that same exact expression when I’d caught Delaney mid-fall.
Josh cleared his throat and turned back to us, but the damage was done.
Wyatt caught my eye and raised an eyebrow in a silent question.
I shook my head slightly.
I could barely focus on anything except for the truth settling into my bones. It was an ache I couldn’t shake.
Damn it.
I was in so much trouble.
And the worst part?
I had no idea what to do about it.