Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Finn
Tuesday nights at Donovan’s had a rhythm.
Old wood, countryside charm, classic rock, and beer that was colder than it had any right to be in a town like Maple Ridge.
Most of the bar’s regulars had their spots, their tells, and their drinks.
The bartender generally knew when to bring the next round without a word.
Me? I just needed quiet—well, as quiet as an Irish pub could be. And maybe a moment to forget that River was back.
But forgetting her was impossible.
Every time the door creaked open, I looked up. Expecting her. Dreading it. Hoping for it, maybe, if I were being honest with myself.
I’d caught her watching me at the meeting, then again at the café.
That same sharp stare that used to pin me in place when we first got together.
Back then, it meant trust, curiosity, and the kind of easy comfort that never had to be explained.
Now? It was a cocktail of hurt and guarded strength that hit harder than any right hook.
She looked like she didn’t know whether to throw her drink at my head or memorize the sound of my laugh.
Or maybe that was just me trying to remember what hers used to sound like. The way it used to punch through the silence in my chest and make things feel lighter.
“You’re doing that thing,” my older brother said, sliding onto the stool beside me and signaling the bartender.
“What thing?”
“The brooding hero-cop thing.”
I gave Sean a sideways glance. “Aren’t you late to some political fundraiser where people pretend to like each other for free shrimp and cheese?”
“Nah. That’s Thursdays,” he said, flashing me a grin. He had the same gray-green eyes I did, the same strong jaw, but where I kept things close, Sean let charm spill out of him like it was on tap. “Besides, you asked me to meet you. I figured it wasn’t just for brotherly bonding.”
“It’s not,” I said, sliding the Jenkins folder toward him. “This is quiet. Off the record.”
Sean’s grin dimmed. He flipped open the folder and started scanning. “I remember Eleanor Jenkins. The whisper campaign against her was brutal. The school board fired her after the anonymous complaints came in, right?”
“That’s the official story.”
“And the unofficial?”
I took a sip of beer. “Dunno. But something stinks. Whispers of HR interference, redacted memos, missing reports… Looks like she had enemies. Quiet ones. Likely powerful ones.”
Sean flipped through a few more pages and whistled under his breath. “This isn’t just about a teacher being forced out. This smells like political rot somehow. And something that runs deep.” He flipped through a few more pages and ran his finger over a red eye sketched on some paperwork.
“I was actually hoping you’d say it smelled like a dead end.”
He looked up. “Yeah? You want me to leave it alone?”
“No.” I shook my head. “It’s something I need to look into. I just wanted to know if you’ve heard anything. Knew who could be pulling the strings.”
Sean closed the folder and tapped his fingers on the bar top. “My guess? Someone at the top.”
My spine straightened. “That’s a big accusation to lob casually.”
“I’m not lobbing. I’m sounding the alarm.
” He leaned in. “Listen. There’s chatter.
The bigwigs have their fingers in all sorts of pies.
Real estate, private schools, zoning decisions.
And then there are the pet projects. Most keep their names clean, but that’s just ’cause they have people to scrub them. ”
I sat back, the bar suddenly too loud, too warm. River used to joke that I could smell bullshit a mile away. She wasn’t wrong. And this whole thing? It reeked.
“So…what? Eleanor see something she wasn’t supposed to?” I asked.
“Seems a logical guess. Maybe she challenged the wrong person.” Sean’s voice was low now, careful. “I can poke around a little, but if those on my periphery are involved in any way, I need to be careful. And we have to be smart.”
I nodded slowly, the knot in my gut tightening. “And you?”
He blinked. “What about me?”
“You keeping your nose clean lately?”
His smile dropped. “I always have. Even when it wasn’t easy.”
A memory surged. River’s voice in my ear during one of our long drives out past the ridge, the wind flattening her curls against her cheeks. “You and Sean are like fire and ice. You burn from the inside. He sort of melts people on contact.”
I hadn’t thought about that night in years. The feel of her hand on my thigh. The way she said my name when she was half asleep and safe beside me. All of it hit me in the chest like a slow-moving wreck.
I drained my glass and signaled for another. “Good.”
The silence between us stretched out, thick with what we weren’t saying. Sean had to know River was back in town, but he didn’t ask about her. And I didn’t offer.
“You can’t protect everyone, Finn,” he said finally, his voice quiet. “Sometimes, you have to let people carry their own pain.”
I nodded once, but the words—both his and the ones I almost said—didn’t sit right. Because I’d left River to carry more than her share. And I wasn’t sure I had the right to ask if she’d dropped it yet.
Sean left not long after, and I nursed my second drink in silence until Cade dropped into the seat my brother had vacated.
“You’re not working?” I asked, grateful for the distraction. I’d told him earlier that I might be coming here after my shift to meet Sean, and said he was welcome to join if he could.
“Travis is holding down the fort. The Oak’s quiet.” He flagged Stephanie for a drink. “Figured I’d check on you. Your brother sorta looked like a man wrestling ghosts.”
I smirked. “Doesn’t he always? Politics’ll do that.”
Cade tilted his head. “So will seeing your lost love again.”
I tensed but didn’t rise to the bait.
He cracked a peanut. “We all see it. You’ve been off your game. Morrigan said you forgot your badge today.”
I groaned. “I didn’t—” But I had. “Whatever. Your sister needs a new hobby.”
“Watching all you dumbasses at the station is her hobby.” He popped the peanut into his mouth and chewed. “Look, man. You think River doesn’t still feel something?”
“I know exactly what she feels. Loathing and regret.”
“Maybe,” he said, unbothered. “But hate’s just love with sharp corners.”
I stared at the condensation sliding down my glass. “You reading poetry again?”
He grinned. “Screw you. Maybe I just remember what it looked like. Before it all went to hell.”
Before I could argue, my phone buzzed on the bar.
LINTON: Sorry, boss. We need you back at the station. Got something weird. Might be nothing, but you’ll prob want eyes on it. Vale and I have been going over something.
I sighed and stood, my stool scraping against the worn hardwood. “Duty calls.”
Cade tossed a few bills onto the bar. “Let me know if it’s something you need help with. I’ve got your six.”
“You leaving the bar and coming to work for me, old man?” The corner of my lip quirked.
He laughed. “You wish you had deputies as good as me.”
I didn’t argue. Cade’s mind worked differently than others. It was sharper. Moved in several directions at once. The sheriff’s department had been lucky to have him. But as his friend, I absolutely understood why he’d retired early and bought the bar.
“You free tomorrow?” I asked.
“I can be. What are we doing?”
“Running down some leads.”
His eyes lit up. “Actually, I’ve got an idea. The school board. Eleanor’s complaints, those board meeting minutes…if she rattled cages, there might be a paper trail.”
“You think we can get access?”
“We happen to know someone with keys to the archives.”
“Autumn.”
“Exactly.”
My phone buzzed again.
LINTON: You coming? We’ll explain when you get here.
I looked longingly at my half-finished drink. “I gotta move.”
Cade clapped me on the shoulder. “Text me later.”
As I stepped outside, the night air hit like a slap. Crisp. Damp. Full of memories I wished would stay where they originated…in the past.
But in this town, things didn’t stay buried.
At least, not forever.