Chapter 29
The pub was buzzing when we walked in, the low hum of voices rising under the soft notes of holiday music.
Strings of warm lights draped across the ceiling, tiny stars against dark wood and brick.
It smelled like cinnamon, pine, and roasted meat, cozy and inviting; everything about it screamed comfort.
But I didn’t feel comfortable.
Everywhere I turned, I felt eyes on me. Whispers. Half-hidden glances that weren’t nearly as subtle as they thought. I kept my gaze on the floor, on Clara’s hand wrapped around mine, anchoring me to each step.
Mom moved ahead of us like nothing was wrong, her chin lifted, shoulders squared, the very picture of a woman who refused to bow to gossip. I wished I had even an ounce of her confidence.
We’d barely reached the table Adam had reserved for us before he appeared, moving fast, his grin stretching wide until his gaze landed on me. It softened instantly, and before I could react, his arms were around me, pulling me up from my chair into one of his signature bear hugs.
“Cass,” he whispered against my hair, his voice warm and low enough only I could hear. “How are you holding up, little Morgan?”
My throat locked. I wanted to answer, to make a joke or say I was fine, but the words tangled somewhere between my chest and my mouth.
Before I could figure it out, another voice cut through.
“Get your hands off her.”
Brody.
The sound of him froze me in place, sharp and unexpected, cutting through the noise around us like glass breaking. My breath caught as Adam reluctantly let me go, stepping back with both hands raised.
Brody was there, towering, his broad frame blocking out everything else. His jaw was tight, his hazel eyes burning hot and unreadable. And then he reached for me, his hands gentle but firm as he pulled me against his chest.
I didn’t resist.
I should have.
I wanted to...
But the moment his arms closed around me, something inside me loosened for the first time in weeks. His scent, pine and soap and something uniquely him, grounded me in a way I couldn’t explain. My forehead rested against his chest, and for just one breath, I let myself feel safe.
I didn’t know what to do with that. I didn't know what it meant that, for the first time since that day, I didn't feel empty. And I knew it had everything to do with the man wrapped around me.
“We really need to stop meeting like this,” I muttered into the soft fabric of his shirt, my voice rough but steady enough to pass for teasing.
His arms tightened slightly, like he understood everything I wasn’t saying. “I’d rather not meet like that ever again,” he murmured, voice low, so only I could hear.
I needed to get this out, but I knew I couldn't see his face when I did. So I kept my face buried in his chest and whispered, "Thank you."
Brody stiffened for a moment before tugging me in even tighter and saying, "Don't thank me for that, Cassidy. Please."
The world felt smaller between us, quieter somehow, until Adam’s voice broke it apart.
“Okay, okay,” He laughed from behind me, sliding his arms loosely around both of us. “Palmer sandwich! Our girl right in the middle.”
I startled, a surprised sound bubbling out of me, heat creeping up my neck. “Adam,” I hissed under my breath. “People are staring. You don't want to be seen with me.”
He only grinned wider. “Let them. I’d have my name attached to yours anytime, baby cakes.”
Brody growled, low and quiet, but Adam ignored him. He pulled back and tilted his head, scanning me up and down with mock severity.
“You’ve lost too much weight,” he said bluntly, tapping my hip gently.
It surprised me that the action didn't make me flinch. “I want to see some junk back in that perfectly curvy trunk, little Morgan. You leave it to me. I’m heading to the kitchen to fatten you up. I’m talking bread baskets, extra butter, some good fats and at least three desserts. Don’t fight it. Palmer rules.”
And then he was gone, striding toward the kitchen before I could come up with a retort.
It was ridiculous. Over-the-top. So very Adam.
But for the first time in what felt like forever, laughter slipped out of me. Soft and shaky, but real.
I felt Clara’s gaze on me, warm and steady. Mom’s, too. And Brody’s.
Something like relief flickered across their faces, and it hit me with a sharp pang:
I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed.
Adam returned with too much food, plates spilling across the table until there was barely room for drinks. He sat with us, talking about plans for the holidays, rattling off ideas about which nights the Palmers would host and which nights the Morgans should.
I tried to focus on his words, tried to let the normalcy wash over me. But all I could feel was Brody.
He’d pulled his chair close to mine, close enough that my shoulder brushed his arm every time I shifted. He didn’t say much, but his presence was constant, solid, grounding.
For the first time since Andrew in my apartment, since the fear and the sirens and the whispers, I felt… safe.
And that terrified me more than anything.
The conversation drifted easily around the table, Adam taking up most of the air the way he always did when he was excited about something.
“…biggest night of the year,” he said, gesturing wildly with his fork. “New Year’s Eve is gonna be insane. Live music, champagne at midnight, the whole nine yards.”
Clara smiled faintly. “Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.”
Adam leaned back in his chair, stretching one arm over the backrest, his grin widening as his gaze slid deliberately to me. “Almost everything.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What?”
“I need you.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
He leaned forward, elbows braced on the table like this was a negotiation he’d been preparing for. “New Year’s Eve is gonna be packed, Cass. I need someone I trust to help out behind the bar. Just for the night. Pouring drinks, looking gorgeous, making me look good.”
I almost choked on my soda. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Cassidy…” He dragged my name out like a threat and a plea all at once. “Come on, you used to bartend in college. You’d be perfect. And I promise, it’ll be fun. You need a little fun.”
I stared at him, deadpan. “Your definition of fun and mine are not the same, Palmer.”
“Yeah, mine’s better.” He winked, earning a laugh from Clara and a cheeky eyeroll from Mom.
Before I could retort, Brody shifted in his chair beside me, his arm brushing mine like an accident, though I wasn’t sure it was. “I’ll be there,” he said casually, though his tone was anything but.
My head snapped toward him. “What?”
“Working security.” He didn’t look at me, his gaze fixed firmly on Adam instead, but his meaning wasn’t subtle. “Crowd like that? We’re not taking chances.”
Adam grinned, unbothered. “See? Even better. You’ll have Brody watching your back.”
The heat crept up my neck, my mind spinning at the thought of standing behind the bar while people stared, whispered, watched, but with Brody there, close enough to keep them all at bay, close enough that maybe I could trust myself to breathe again.
Adam must’ve seen the hesitation crack in my expression because he pounced, relentless.
“It’s one night,” he said softly, leaning forward now, his voice dropping so only I could hear. “You’ve been hiding long enough, baby cakes. You deserve one night where you don’t feel small. Where you remember who the fuck you are.”
The words hit deeper than I wanted them to.
Clara squeezed my hand under the table, silent but steady.
I glanced at Mom, who was pretending not to listen but clearly hanging on every word, her expression carefully neutral.
I exhaled slowly. “Fine. One night.”
Adam beamed, triumphant. “Atta girl.” He slapped the table once and stood. “I’m telling the staff. They’re gonna love you.”
As he walked off toward the kitchen, Brody finally looked at me, really looked, his hazel eyes soft and steady.
“You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” he murmured.
I held his gaze for a beat too long before forcing a faint smile. “Maybe I need to.”
His lips curved, just slightly, like he understood something I didn’t have words for yet.