Chapter 20
Nate
The sheriff's office smells like burnt coffee and disappointment, but I'm here at eight AM sharp with Harper beside me, our fingers interlaced like they've been for the past three days since our reconciliation.
"You want to file assault charges?" Sheriff Morrison—older brother to the farmer with the twelve Bessies—looks between us with his bushy eyebrows raised. "Against Daniel Reeves?"
"He physically cornered and grabbed Ms. Lane outside Marcello's," I say, keeping my voice steady despite the rage that still bubbles up when I think about it. "Multiple instances of unwanted contact."
"Including pushing me against my car when I tried to leave," Harper adds, her voice stronger than I expected.
Morrison writes slowly, deliberately. "Any witnesses?"
"Mrs. Henderson saw the parking lot incident," Harper says. "Though I'm sure her version is... colorful."
"I'll need proof, not just he-said-she-said with a gossip's testimony."
I pull out my phone, show him the emails June found. "Three other women in other cities. Same pattern. Rachel Vince in Austin filed a report two years ago—you can verify that. Miranda Walsh has a restraining order in Dallas."
Morrison's expression shifts. "Well, that changes things."
While he makes calls to verify, Harper squeezes my hand. We're doing this together, finally.
An hour later, we're walking out with an official complaint filed and Morrison's promise to "have a word" with Daniel before he leaves town.
"He's already packing," Harper tells me as we reach my truck. "June heard from his landlord. Apparently, his investors pulled out yesterday after someone sent them a detailed email about his history."
"Someone?" I try to look innocent.
"You organized that?"
"We organized it. June found the information, Maya wrote it up, and I found the investors email addresses on Daniel's company website. Made sure they knew this wasn't just about you—it was about protecting every woman Daniel might target next."
Her eyes get soft in that way that still makes my chest tight. "You rallied the troops."
"They rallied themselves. Everyone loves you, Harper. They just needed to know the truth." I pause, then add, "And while we were at it, June reached out to the Hartfield Agricultural Foundation. Sent them your articles on sustainable farming. They want to talk."
Harper stares at me. "You... what?"
"We protect our own. And we don't let predators win—or destroy good work."
We're interrupted by my phone buzzing. Text from Lucas:
Reeves just left the Willow Tap in a hurry. Looked pissed. Morrison must have found him.
"Good riddance," Harper mutters, reading over my shoulder.
Another text, this one from an unknown number:
This isn't over. I'll sue you both for defamation.
"That's him," Harper says, recognizing the entitled tone even in text.
I delete it without responding. "Empty threat. Truth isn't defamation, and he knows it. He's leaving because he has to, because his game doesn't work when people compare notes."
We drive past his rental on the way home, see boxes being loaded into a rental truck. Harper's hand finds mine across the console.
"It's really over," she says, like she can't quite believe it.
"That part is," I agree. "Now we just have to plan a wedding in five weeks with the entire town watching our every move."
She laughs, and it's the sound I've missed most. "After this? That'll be easy."
I think about everything we've survived—six years apart, trust issues, Daniel's manipulation, our own stubborn pride—and realize she's right.
Planning a wedding will be the easy part.
***
The Sweet Spot is packed for a Wednesday morning, which means the gossip network is in full emergency session. Harper's hand tightens in mine as we walk through the door, every head turning our way like synchronized swimmers.
"Here we go," she mutters.
"Together," I remind her, squeezing back.
Mrs. Henderson is holding court at the corner table, but she actually looks... chagrined when she sees us. She waves us over with less enthusiasm than usual.
"Dr. Wilder, Harper dear." She fidgets with her coffee cup. "I heard about that investor. About what he actually did."
"From Sheriff Morrison?" I ask, knowing his younger brother probably told the whole farmers' market by now.
"From everyone. June's been quite... vocal about the situation." She looks at Harper directly. "I'm sorry, dear. I saw what I thought I saw, but I didn't see the whole picture. That man was manhandling you, wasn't he?"
Harper blinks, surprised by the apology. "He was trying to, yes."
"Well." Mrs. Henderson draws herself up. "I've told everyone the real story. How you were defending yourself, and how Dr. Wilder protected you at the market. That investor was a menace, plain and simple."
The coffee shop murmurs agreement, and I realize the tide has already turned. Small towns can destroy you with gossip, but they can also rally faster than any city when one of their own is wronged.
"Harper!" June emerges from behind the counter with a box. "Victory bear claws. On the house. For both of you."
"Victory?" Harper asks.
"For vanquishing that creep. The whole town's talking about how Sheriff Morrison ran him out." She slides into the booth beside Harper, grinning. "Also, how does it feel to have the Hartfield Foundation interested in your work?"
Harper's eyes well up. "I can’t believe you all did that."
"That's what community means, dear," Mrs. Henderson says firmly from her table. "Even if we sometimes need a minute to figure out who needs protecting from whom."
An older gentleman I recognize from the town council stands up. "Harper, Dr. Wilder, the council met last night. The education center has our full support, with or without extra outside investors. We'll find the money if we need to. Fundraisers, grants, whatever it takes."
Harper's fully crying now, and I'm not doing much better. This town, these people—they drive us crazy and save us in equal measure.
"Thank you," Harper manages. "All of you."
"Just get married already," someone calls from the back. "We need something to celebrate after all this drama!"
The whole bakery laughs, and for the first time since Daniel showed up, everything feels like it's going to be okay.
***
By Thursday afternoon, our living room looks like a wedding magazine exploded. Harper's in the middle of the chaos with June and Maya, fabric samples and menu cards scattered across every surface while Duke tries to eat what looks like a swatch of tulle.
"Five weeks," June says, her usually calm baker's demeanor cracking. "Not even five weeks to plan a wedding that should take five months."
"We could elope," Harper suggests, not for the first time.
"Don't you dare!" Maya waddles over with another box of decorations. She's starting to show properly and won't stop complaining about her center of gravity. "I didn't suffer through your relationship drama to miss the happy ending."
"Plus, I've already started the cake," June adds. "Three tiers, lemon and raspberry, with the buttercream you wanted. You elope, I eat the entire thing myself out of spite."
"That's a lot of cake," I point out, rescuing another fabric sample from Duke.
"I'm very spiteful."
Harper catches my eye across the chaos and smiles. "Fine. No eloping. But we're keeping it simple."
"Define simple," June says suspiciously.
"Ceremony at the willow tree, reception in the barn. Close friends and family. Nothing fancy."
"Harper Lane doing nothing fancy?" Maya laughs. "You had a Pinterest board for your dream wedding when you were twelve."
"That was before I realized what actually matters." Harper moves to sit beside me on the couch, fitting against my side perfectly. "I just want to marry Nate. Everything else is just details and background noise."
June and Maya exchange looks that probably mean trouble, but I'm too focused on the way Harper's playing with my fingers absently while she talks.
"Okay, simple," June agrees. "But you still need flowers, music, food—"
"Morrison's daughter offered to do flowers," I interrupt. "Emily, the one with the calf? Apparently she's been practicing arrangements."
"A five-year-old is doing our flowers?" Harper asks.
"Her mom's helping. But Emily insisted she wants to make bouquets for the nice doctor who saved Freddie."
Harper melts a little. "That's actually perfect."
"And Lucas already lined up his cousin's band," Maya adds. "They do weddings all the time."
"When did Lucas—"
"This morning. The whole town's basically planning your wedding." Maya shifts uncomfortably on the chair. "Mrs. Henderson has a spreadsheet."
"Of course she does," Harper mutters.
"It's actually helpful," June admits. "She's coordinating who's bringing what food for the reception. Potluck style, but organized."
I feel Harper tense slightly. "The whole town's coming?"
"You didn't think you could get married without everyone watching, did you?" Maya asks. "After all this drama? This is better than cable for them."
Harper looks at me, and I can see the moment of panic—the idea of being on display again after everything with Daniel.
"Hey," I say quietly, just for her. "It's our day. They can watch all they want, but it's still just about us."
She relaxes against me. "You're right."
"Besides," June adds with a grin, "after the farmer's market showdown, you're basically the town's favorite love story. Everyone wants to see the happy ending."
"Which is why keeping it small might be impossible," Maya warns. "Mrs. Henderson's spreadsheet has about a hundred names already."
Harper groans. "So much for close friends and family only."
"We could limit the ceremony to close friends and family," I suggest, "then open the barn reception to everyone? Best of both worlds."
Harper perks up. "That's actually perfect. Intimate ceremony, bigger party after."
***
Friday night finds me at the Willow Tap with Lucas, who insisted on "best man duties" that apparently include making sure I drink at least one beer and stop obsessing over wedding details for an hour.