Chapter 7 #2
“Before I lose my nerve.”
I study his face. The determination is there.
I take a sip. “Okay. Let me get dressed.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re walking toward Main Street. I shiver. Not from the cold air.
He reaches over and holds my hand, threading our fingers together. “I’ve got you.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not letting go.”
Through the front windows, I can see that the diner is busy with the morning crowd—every booth occupied, the counter lined with regulars on their claimed stools.
Voices overlap and laughter rings out, punctuated by the clatter of plates and the hiss of the griddle.
The smell of bacon and coffee fills the air, cut with the sweet warmth of maple syrup and the yeasty scent of toast.
The walls inside are covered in photos, decades of Lush Hollow faces frozen in black and white, watching over the morning rush. Red vinyl booths are patched with duct tape in places, the kind of wear that speaks to thousands of meals shared and conversations had.
My stomach knots. This is it. The test. Everyone will see us together and draw conclusions. Judge. Gossip. Watch to see if he lets go.
I hesitate at the door. Cole squeezes my hand and doesn’t let go. I look up at him, surprised.
“Together,” he says quietly. “That’s what I promised.”
I tighten my fingers around his.
We walk in holding hands.
The diner doesn’t go silent like in a movie, but conversations pause mid-sentence. Heads turn, and gazes track us. Heat crawls up my neck. I wait for Cole to drop my hand, to step away, to make space between us.
He doesn’t. His grip tightens.
Roz spots us, and her face lights up. “Well, look who it is. The ridge hermit and our favorite cookie girl.”
We approach the counter. He holds my hand and brushes my knuckles with his thumb.
“Morning, Roz.” My voice is steady, but my hand trembles.
“Morning, honey. Cole.” Roz pours two coffees without asking, but her eyes are on our joined hands. “You two look cozy.”
I glance at Cole, waiting. My heart pounds.
This is the moment. He could deflect, could laugh it off, could…
“We are,” he says loudly enough for the nearby tables to hear. “Together. Holly and me.”
Relief floods through me so fast my knees go weak.
Roz’s grin could light the room. “Well, it’s about damn time, Hart.”
“Yeah.” He meets my gaze, and I see the promise there. “It is.”
A man in his early sixties with a weathered face and work-worn hands looks up from his coffee at the counter. I don’t recognize him, which means he must be one of the ridge regulars who rarely come to town.
“Cole Hart with a girlfriend?” The man’s voice carries. “Hell, I didn’t think you talked to anyone but Jesse and Wells. Now you’re parading around town with her on your arm?”
Cole stiffens beside me, his jaw tightening. I squeeze his hand, and after a beat, he squeezes back.
“Dave.” He keeps his voice level. “This is Holly Brooks. She’s mine. And yeah, I’m making sure everyone knows it.”
Dave snorts. “We’ll see. You’ve been a hermit for three years, Hart. Think you can handle having someone around full-time?”
“Yes.” He pulls me against his side. “I know I can. Because she’s worth it.”
Dave studies Cole, then looks at me. His expression softens slightly. “You know what you’re getting into? He’s not exactly Mr. Social.”
I lift my chin. “I know exactly what I’m getting. And I’m choosing it on purpose.”
Something shifts in Dave’s face. He nods once. “All right then. Don’t mess this up, Hart.”
“I won’t,” he says.
Before we can say anything, Mrs. Porter walks in. She stops when she sees us. “Cole and Holly.”
He nods.
“Last time you brought a woman to Roz’s was for Emma and Beau’s engagement breakfast,” Mrs. Porter says, not unkindly but stating a fact. “I’m glad you’re moving forward, Cole. Your sister would want that for you.”
My hand tightens around his.
His muscles tense, but he doesn’t look away. “She would. Emma would’ve loved Holly. Would’ve made sure I didn’t screw it up.”
Mrs. Porter smiles, her eyes shining. “Yes. She would have.”
My chest aches, not with jealousy but with the wish I could’ve met Emma and thank her for helping Cole to love someone properly, even if it scares him.
More people filter over. Sheriff Dale asks Cole if he’ll be doing generator repairs in the spring. Sophie apologizes for the photo (“I should’ve asked first, I’m so sorry”). Eli mentions that he knew having me deliver cookies was a great idea. Through it all, Cole doesn’t let go of my hand.
Jesse and Wells walk in, both raising an eyebrow before nodding their approval.
Roz sets down breakfast plates and winks. After we eat and have been seen by half the town, Cole turns to me. “I need to do something.”
“Okay.”
He pulls out his phone and opens the volunteer group chat where Sophie posted the photo. I tense.
He types: This is Cole Hart. Holly showed me the photo of her at my place. I appreciate the concern during the storm, but moving forward, please ask before posting pictures of either of us. Thanks.
He hits send, then sets the phone down and looks at me. “Boundaries. For both of us.”
My throat closes. He’s protecting us. Not hiding me, protecting both of us. There’s a difference, and he understands it.
“You didn’t have to—”
“Yeah, I did. Because we should decide what’s public and what’s private. Not anyone else.”
“Cole—”
“I’m not done.” He takes both my hands and turns so he’s facing me fully. The diner’s still buzzing around us, but I don’t care. “I need you to hear what I have to say.”
“Go on.”
“I was wrong yesterday. I shut down when I should’ve stood up.
I made you feel convenient when you’re anything but.
And I know sorry isn’t enough. So I’m showing you.
Here. Now. In front of everyone.” He takes a breath.
“I love you, Holly Brooks. I love your competence and your kindness and the way you organize things by color or size. I love that you drove up a mountain in a storm to deliver cookies to a stranger. I love that you see people, including me. And I’m not hiding that. Not from anyone. Not ever again.”
My vision blurs. This is what I needed. Not just the words in private but the choice in public. The claim where it costs him something. Where everyone can see.
Tears spill over.
“You’re not convenient.” His voice is rough. “You’re essential. You’re home. And if anyone asks, and they will, I’m telling them exactly that. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and there’s no question about it.”
I can’t stop crying. Not that I want to. This is what I’ve longed to hear. “I love you too. I love you so much, and I was so scared you’d—”
“I won’t. Not again. I promise you, Holly. In front of witnesses.” He glances around the diner.
Every eye is on us. Roz dabs at her face with her apron. Mrs. Porter beams.
“Plenty of witnesses,” he adds.
I laugh through my tears and kiss him.
The diner erupts in applause.
When we break apart, I smile. “Okay. I believe you now.”
“Good. Because I meant every word.”
Roz appears with a box of tissues. “Y’all are killing me. That was beautiful. Breakfast is on the house.”
“You already fed us,” he points out.
“Then lunch is on the house. Just keep being adorable. It’s good for business.”
“No judgment. No spectacle. Just community.” Cole shakes his head. “Emma always used to say that’s what made Lush Hollow special.”
And she was right. This place, these people… They’re not watching us fail. They’re celebrating our decision to be together.
For the first time since Mark, I feel like I belong somewhere. Not because I’m useful but because I’m loved.
Because I’m where I belong.