Chapter 38
Archer
“You were in her room, weren’t you?” Mr. Monroe asks in a muted tone. “You were hiding in my house while I was in it, then you snuck out with my daughter and drove away in my car.”
I swallow hard. “It’s not what it looks like, sir. My truck was dead. We took yours to jump it.”
But my explanations fall flat. Whatever I say won’t matter.
Mr. Monroe puts his phone away, nods to a passerby, then turns to face me directly. His smile remains, no doubt for the onlookers, but the coldness in his eyes is unmistakable.
“I’ll be honest with you, Mr. Kade,” he begins, his voice dangerously low.
“I haven’t liked you the minute you stepped foot in Autumn Ridge.
I don’t think you’re trustworthy. I don’t think you’re coming by whatever income you have honorably.
And I certainly don’t think you’re as innocent in your actions toward me as you profess.
” He takes a step closer to me, the pleasant look on his face remaining, though the ice in his tone thickens.
“But I’ll die before I let someone like you misuse my daughter as you have over and over again. ”
I couldn’t care less about what the mayor thinks of my spending or where he believes my fortune came from. I couldn’t even care less that he’s aware of the many pranks I’ve made at his cost.
But the accusation hurled at me that I’ve misused Juliet? I won’t stand for it.
My jaw is so tight, I think it might shatter in two. “I haven’t misused Juliet, sir. You ask her what happened Thursday night—and you ask her how I’ve treated her from the minute she came back to Autumn Ridge—and you’ll hear the truth.”
Mr. Monroe huffs out a scoff of disbelief, his features losing their innocent expression. “You think I can believe anything she says now? Ever since she came back—ever since she saw you—she’s changed. She’s lying to me, sneaking out, not going back to college. All of this is because of you.”
I remind myself of our similarities, how he’s protecting his daughter because it’s all he’s ever known, but the injustice of his accusations blast against my patience.
Remember Juliet.
Taking another breath, I begin again more calmly. “I’m sorry you believe those things, Mr. Monroe. But have you ever considered that maybe the problem isn’t just me? That maybe it’s because your daughter can’t speak openly with you because she’s afraid of your reaction?”
Wrong choice of words.
Mr. Monroe’s nostrils flare, his face shifting to a beet red. Sadie walks past in that exact moment, eying the mayor in alarm, but she swivels away from us and heads deeper into the crowds.
“Leave,” Mr. Monroe says firmly. “Now. You’re not welcome at this dance, in this barn, or in Autumn Ridge. And don’t come near my daughter again.”
Anger sparks a single flame in my chest, but it grows to swiftly encompass my whole body, so I stand to my full stature. “Or, what, you’ll have me arrested again? You’ll try to close the doors of Horseshoe Holler for the third time?”
“Don’t try me.”
I shake my head, astounded I’m even having this conversation. “You can tear my world apart, sir. And you can destroy my career. I’ll go home tonight, just like you want. But you need to understand...I’m not the only one you’re injuring. Not anymore.”
His brow flinches, and I hope to Heaven I’ve made my point, but I don’t stick around to wait and see.
Juliet
I watch Archer storm through the barn and out the open doors, then look back at Dad with a tight chest. I’ve never seen him like that before—the intolerance in his eyes, the fury across his features—not even during his days as an officer.
I didn’t hear their words, but I know I was at the center of them.
“You okay, Juliet?” Rosie asks, her brows pulled together.
We’re standing near the outskirts of the dance, having only just congratulated each other on a job well done for surviving the manic week.
“What?” I ask. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I forgot I needed to...talk to my dad about something.”
Luckily, she doesn’t press for more information, letting me go with a wave as she wanders away herself.
I force my way through the crowds with sure steps, avoiding eye contact with everyone I pass. I’m not faking a good time anymore. Not when my stomach is pitching.
This isn’t how I anticipated the night going. I wanted to hand that carrot to Archer, dance until we were blue in the face, then sneak off and...
“Dad?”
He turns around to face me, standing near the outskirts of the dancing that’s still going strong. Guilt crosses his features, but he swiftly blinks it away. “Hey, Jules. Having a good night?”
“What were you just saying to Archer?”
His features fall. “Can we talk somewhere more private?”
He begins to walk away, but I hold my hand on his arm, staying him. “Just tell me what was said between you.”
He hesitates, then sighs. “He asked me if he had my permission to date you, and I told him no.”
My heart twists. Archer asked him? And Dad had the audacity to say no? “You know he doesn’t need your permission—I don’t need your permission—for me to date him, right?”
“It’s beyond the point,” Dad whispers, clearly trying to keep this between us. “He’s not a good person, Jules.”
“How can you say that?”
He takes hold of my arm softly, urging me to the door. “Let’s take a breather. Cool off. I’ve got to be here for the dance because—”
“Because you’re the mayor. I know.”
He looks at me, astonished. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“No,” I say honestly. “But I am upset about all the lies between us.”
He stiffens. “Including your own?”
“About school?”
“About Archer. Him in your bedroom, you sneaking out of the house with him. He’s the real reason you’re not going back to college, isn’t he?”
My thoughts spiral. “You were spying on me?”
He looks away, guilty. “I installed a couple cameras a few days ago and forgot to tell you with how busy things have been. I received a notification of movement the night before but set it aside, figuring it was just you leaving for ice cream. But last night, I was skimming through the notifications and saw both of you running to my car.”
“His truck was dead.”
“That doesn’t explain why you lied to me. You said you were going home after the potluck dinner, not out with Archer.”
“My plans changed.”
He shakes his head, his expression wary. “He’s a bad influence, Jules. It’s my job to protect you, but I can’t if you keep—”
“I’m not a kid anymore, Dad,” I interrupt. “You don’t have to protect me. And I don’t have to tell you everything I do. Just like I can date whoever I want. He didn’t have to ask for your permission,” I repeat.
“Then why did he?”
“Because he wants to show his respect for you. Even though you clearly have none for him.”
“A man can’t respect a boy who sneaks out with his daughter.”
“I told him to, Dad. Because I was scared of your response.”
He looks away, his voice softening. “You can tell me anything, Jules. You know that.”
“And you can tell me anything.”
“I do.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Then who are you dating?”
He freezes, his face shifting to a deep red. “Dating? Honey, I’ve told you before. I’m not dating anyone.”
“Dad,” I snap, “the whole town knows about it. Stop lying!”
A few heads turn at my outburst, but I ignore them. Dad doesn’t say anything else, regret filling his eyes.
I know he’s not meaning to hurt me. I’m not guiltless either.
But I don’t care anymore about who he’s dating. I don’t care about our detachment. I only care about one thing.
“What did you say to Archer to get him to leave?” I ask.
He swallows. “I told him what a terrible influence he’s been on you.”
My heart squeezes, leaving more room in my chest for anger to surround it. “He hasn’t been.”
Dad looks around, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Do you know he has a record?”
He says it like it’s going to solve his problem, like the second I find out, he’s going to have proven his point, and I’m going to change my mind.
But I stand stalwart. “That was the first thing he told me about himself. And he told me why he has one. Has he told you?”
“I already know. He acted like a child and busted up some shop.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “He acted out of grief—you of all people should understand that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Of course you don’t know,” I spit out. “You haven’t even given him a chance to tell you. How can you call yourself a respectable mayor—a respectable human—if you cut him off without compassion?”
Uncertainty flickers across his features, then he looks down and takes a deep breath. “Listen, this clearly isn’t going to be solved in one conversation. Let’s take a pause and finish later.”
The music blares, and joyful faces whirl around us, but my soul aches. “No, I’m finished.”
“Jules,” he begins as I walk away. “Don’t...don’t go after him.”
I drop my hands to my sides in a defeated movement. “Is that all you care about?”
Fear flickers in his eyes as he glances around at a few people watching us. The mayor’s always on parade, but I don’t care who hears.
I’m tired. I’m disappointed. And I’m done. “I’ll see you later,” I mumble in a defeated tone. Walking away, I hear him softly following me, so I turn around to stop him. “Don’t follow me, Dad.”
His face contorts, the pain apparent in his eyes, but I leave before it shifts to anything else. I keep my head down and leave the barn, aimlessly heading along Main Street, though it’s the opposite direction from home.
Lights drape along the trees, glowing warm in the darkness and echoing the light in the carved pumpkins and the drifts of colorful, crunching leaves that freckle the street. A few people linger on the sidewalks, holding hands and gazing up at each other as they wander toward the barn.
I’m alone and deflated, but tonight, no tears come—only exhaustion. After the week I’ve had, I wanted to celebrate. I wanted to fill my time with dancing and heart-filled eyes toward the guy I’ve liked for over five years.
But Dad stopped it. Just like he always does.
I stare down Main, wondering what I’m even doing. Looking for Archer? Searching for a solution to the impossibility of my future?
I zip up my jacket, tucking my hands into the pockets as the cold of the night air overcomes me. But I know this feeling is more than just the cold. It’s the loneliness. Because now, the one person I’ve always turned to is not only hurting me—he’s no longer protecting me.
So where does that leave me?
“Juliet?”