Chapter 44
July stretched itself out slowly, like the world had decided to give me room to breathe. The fireworks kiss on Canada Day was still stitched into me, a live wire I couldn’t stop touching, but what followed wasn’t loud. It was quiet. It was sweet. It was real.
Brody and I didn’t rush. We didn’t tumble headfirst into passion like the movies said we should.
Instead, we built something in the small moments.
He’d show up with coffee out of the blue, I’d tag along to the farmers’ market and end up buying too many peaches, while his hand stayed warm and steady around mine like it always belonged there.
We camped on different corners of the property, each trip another test for where the house might go, but sometimes I forgot to look at the trees or the slope of the sun because I couldn’t stop looking at him.
The mornings continued, when the barn smelled like wood shavings and something uniquely him, and I’d be at the picnic table red-penning edits while he planed a board smooth.
The sound of his work, low, rhythmic, patient, stitched itself into the background of my days until it felt like music.
There were afternoons when we’d pile into his truck with Jackson, headed to a lake to swim or as Jackson liked to call it, the summer of Ice Cream adventures, where whoever was around would huddle close together, laughing too loudly when sprinkles went everywhere.
Evenings spent walking the ridgeline with our shoulders brushing, talking about nothing and everything.
We kissed, God, did we kiss, but he kept his promise. Nothing rushed. And still, somehow, it felt like more intimacy than I’d ever had in my life.
I was happy. So happy I almost didn’t trust it.
At Clara’s café, sunlight pooled through the front windows, catching in the steam rising from my tea.
I was planning out my social media around my new author's account, something Marin told me I needed to do, when my entire body went on alert.
That cold drag across my shoulders, like an icy finger drawing my attention to someone watching from just beyond the glass.
I looked up. The street outside was busy enough, cars passing, a couple walking a dog, but no one stood out. Still, the chill clung, making me tuck my arms around myself.
“Hey,” Clara said, sliding onto the stool across from me. “You’re making your thinky face again.”
I forced a smirk and pushed away the uncomfortable feeling. “Question for you. Can women get blue balls?”
She snorted so loud that a customer turned. “Excuse me?”
“Because I swear,” I muttered, lowering my voice, “this slow-burn thing Brody and I are doing is going to kill me. It’s sweet, it’s intentional, it’s… so him. But Jesus, Clara.”
Her laugh softened into something gentler. “It is sweet. Nobody does this anymore. People hook up and hope love shows up later. He wants you to feel safe. That’s rare, Cass. That’s good.”
I toyed with my spoon, heart thudding. “I know. And he is good. He’s so good that I… I lo...”
The word lodged in my throat, but it was too late. Clara’s eyes went wide, a grin blooming.
“You love him,” she whispered, delighted. “Oh my God. You love him.”
I swallowed hard, heat rushing to my face. The truth rang through me, undeniable. “Yeah,” I whispered, almost to myself. “I do.”
Before I could say more, my laptop pinged. An email from Marin. My stomach dropped and lifted all at once as I clicked it open:
Everything is signed. Final draft approved. Publication date confirmed. Early buzz is strong. We’re moving the release up. Congratulations, Cassidy. This book is going to be big.
I pressed my hands to my mouth as I read through all the details. My book. My name. A date. It was really happening.
Clara leaned over, eyes scanning, then squealed so loud that half the café turned. She threw her arms around me, and I let myself laugh, dizzy with everything at once. She was talking quickly, saying we had to celebrate, but I didn't hear it all.
Because I had a book coming into the world. My story, my truth.
And I was in love with Brody Palmer.
And I couldn’t wait to tell him.
The pub was buzzing when I walked in later, nerves jangling. Adam had mentioned Brody was hauling in supplies from the farm, and I wanted to see him. To tell him.
But the sight that met me at the bar knocked the air from my lungs.
Brody stood with a woman pressed too close, her laugh sharp, her hand brushing his arm like she owned it. Amber. The ex. The face I recognized from photos, from stories, from the couple of times she’d been back in town with him over the years.
She leaned in like a shadow sliding over him. My stomach clenched, panic surging. The old script wrote itself instantly: this is what men do, this is what Andrew did, this is what you’ll never escape.
I spun toward the door, ready to run.
Adam appeared like a wall, catching my wrist. “Whoa. Where are you going?”
I shook my head, choking on it. “He’s with her.”
Adam’s eyes flicked toward the bar, then back to me. His voice was calm, grounding. “Cass. He’s not. Look.”
“I can’t...”
“Yes, you can. Watch.”
I didn’t want to. But I did.
Brody’s body angled away from Amber, not toward. His smile wasn’t real, more like tolerance on autopilot. His shoulders were tight. And then his eyes lifted.
For a heartbeat, his expression froze, confused, unreadable. My stomach dropped, heart seizing... guilt. That looked like guilt.
But then it shifted. His whole face lit up, hazel eyes sparking like a sunrise. He pushed past Amber without hesitation, crossed the room in long strides, and wrapped me against him.
“Thank God,” he murmured, relief flooding his voice. “You just saved me.”
I clung for a second before pulling back, voice breaking. “But when you saw me… You looked...what was that?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You looked guilty. Like...”
“No.” He cut me off, firm. “That look? I saw Adam holding you and was confused. This is the first time I’ve seen her since we ended, and I hope it’s the last.”
The knot in my stomach didn’t loosen. “Is she just passing through? Or is she here to see you?"
"Cass, what she wants doesn’t matter. She hasn’t mattered in a long time."
"It does if she is here with you."
“She isn't here with me,” he answered. “Ignore her. What are you doing here?”
I wavered. “I... am I interrupting something?”
He caught my chin, eyes steady. “No. You’re the only one I want here. I just didn't expect you.”
Adam gave me a look from behind the bar, clear as if he’d spoken aloud: He’s not Andrew. Don’t run.
So I stayed. I swallowed my fear and tried to speak the truth, clawing up my throat. “I missed you. I was thinking of you and realized something.”
His eyes softened. “You missed me?”
My cheeks burned, but I nodded. “Yeah.”
“What did you realize?”
The words gathered, pressing against my tongue. I love you. Finally, finally ready to say it.
But Amber’s voice cut in like a blade. “Brody.”
Her smile sharpened, her gaze dropping to Brody’s arm locked firm around me. “So this is her.”
Brody’s jaw ticked. “What do you want, Amber?”
She tilted her head, glossy hair sliding over one shoulder. “I just stopped in to say hi. You can’t begrudge me that, can you? We were together for years.” Her eyes slid to me. “Though clearly you’ve moved on fast, Brody.”
Heat crawled up my neck. I wanted to speak, but Brody’s hold tightened, his voice a low growl. “This isn’t your business anymore.”
Amber ignored him, her gaze circling me like a hawk. “You look familiar. Where do I know you from?”
“We’ve met,” I said, steadying my voice. “I’m Chase’s sister.”
Something lit in her eyes, recognition, then calculation. “Right. The little sister.”
Before I could reply, Brody’s words landed like a hammer. “She’s not just Chase's little sister. She’s my future wife.”
The floor tilted under me. My breath caught. Future wife. He had said things like forever before, but this felt different. His tone and posture were all wrong, and he wasn't talking to me. This wasn't a declaration of love. This was something else.
Amber’s gaze dropped to my bare hand, a flash of hurt and vulnerability in her eyes before it shifted, then back up with a smile sharp enough to cut. “Future wife without a ring? That’s not how he used to do things.”
The words sliced clean, and I stiffened. But Brody only hauled me closer, arm iron around my waist. “You don’t matter anymore, Amber. What matters is Cassidy. We’ll do things our way. When she’s ready.”
Amber laughed, throaty and low. “Our way. That’s rich. You used to tell me that, too... that we’d do things our way. Until you didn’t.”
My stomach twisted. They were talking over me, about me, while I stood there like some kind of token in their sparring match.
“She’s nothing like you,” Brody snapped, his eyes burning.
Amber’s gaze flicked to me again, softer this time, pitying. “Be careful, Cassidy. He likes to build people up until they fit the picture in his head. And when they don’t...”
“That’s enough,” Brody bit out.
Something inside me curled tight, a horrible echo of my fears, of being displayed, exploited, talked over like I couldn’t speak for myself.
Amber continued. “I had a ring, Brody. You don’t give rings unless you mean them.”
His grip on me turned iron. “And you threw it away the second you spread your legs for your boss.” His voice cracked with fury. “I don’t want your past, Amber. I don’t want you. I want Cassidy.”
Amber leaned in one last time, voice silken. “Just remember, Cassidy… you’re standing where I once stood.”
I was frozen, throat closing, while Brody dipped his head toward me. “Ignore her. I don’t give a damn what she says. What matters is us.” He tried to kiss me then, in front of her, like I was a punctuation mark to end the argument.
And that’s when I pushed back.
“Don’t,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “Not like this.”
I left the pub, the air outside humid and thick, my chest burning.
“Cass!” His voice cut through the fog, rough and urgent. Footsteps pounded behind me until Brody caught my arm, turning me toward him. “Wait. Please. Talk to me.”
I shook my head, the words ripping out raw. “I felt like a prop in there, Brody. Like you were holding me up just to prove something to her. Like I wasn’t a person, just… leverage.”
His face twisted, pained. “No. That’s not what I was doing. I was defending you. I needed her to see that I’ve moved on, that I’ve chosen you.”
My throat closed. “Do you hear yourself? You don’t have to prove me to anyone. If she means nothing and you are truly over her, it shouldn't matter what she thinks. ”
He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling hard. “Cass, she was trying to rewrite history. She cheated on me, and then she had the audacity to waltz in here like she still had a claim. I couldn’t let her do that. I couldn’t let her put her poison anywhere near you.”
“I don’t care about her poison,” I snapped.
“What I care about is that you were talking over me. About me. Like I wasn’t standing right there.
” My voice cracked, a tear sliding free.
“I can't... I am just finding my voice again.
I can't lose it. And in there, it felt like that was what you were doing.”
Brody flinched, as if I’d struck him. “Don’t compare me to him.” His voice broke, hands fisting at his sides before he reached for me again. “Cass, I am not Andrew. Please don’t punish me for the way he treated you.”
The words gutted me. I stumbled back, shaking my head.
“Don’t twist this, Brody. This isn’t about Andrew.
This is about you. Because what I just experienced?
That wasn’t the man who told me under the stars that he wanted forever with me.
That was a man still caught in his past, trying to prove he’s over it. ”
He looked wrecked, his voice rough. “I’m not caught in it, Cass. I swear to God, I’m not. She means nothing to me. Nothing. You’re the one I want." He broke off, his voice shaking.
I pushed on, voice breaking but sure. The words tumbled out of me.
“You keep saying we have to go slow because I’m not ready.
But I am ready. I came to tell you I love you.
And instead, I got shoved into a pissing contest with your ex.
” My eyes stung, a tear slipping free. “So maybe it’s not me who isn’t ready. Maybe it’s you.”
He froze, eyes wide. “You… you love me?”
I nodded, tears falling now. “I do. I love you, Brody Palmer. But I don’t want to feel like that again. I won’t. If you can’t see why it hurt me, or that what just happened was wrong... then maybe you’re not as ready for me as you think.”
I took another step back, chest aching. “I just found out my book has a release date. I should be celebrating. I’m going to go do that.”
His mouth opened, closed, anguish flickering across his face. He looked like a man trying to hold the tide back with his bare hands.
I turned away before I could be swayed by it, the humidity pressing in hot and heavy, my heart hurting and steady all at once.
Because I had told the truth, I had spoken my love, and I had spoken my hurt. And if he was the man I believed him to be, he would hear both.