27. Halle
HALLE
It’s been a week since I killed Zach, and somehow the world has already decided to keep spinning. Aria and Matt got back from vacation yesterday feeling refreshed, even making comments about how I kept the bar in pristine condition.
If they only knew.
When I showed up for work this morning, Aria practically shoved me out the door. “Go be a person, Halle.” She’d laughed. “You’ve been stuck here all week. We’ve got it today.”
I’d tried to argue, but she won, as she usually does. So now I’m attempting to do normal people shit.
I’ve spent the last week falling back into the grooves of routine like a record needle skipping back to the start.
Wake up before the alarm, brew coffee, then I work and lose myself to the rhythm of pouring drinks, changing kegs, and listening to the same ten stories the regulars cycle through, all while trying to ignore the spot on the floor that Zach bled out on.
I keep circling back to Cash, like a moth to a porch light.
Not in the ditsy, we’re in love and it’s a magical kind of way, though. With Zach gone, I’m not suddenly weaving some fairy-tale happily ever after from one emotionally devastating night where he held me together while I shattered over Zach’s death.
No, it’s more complicated than that.
The morning after, he tried to talk to me. He could tell something was wrong but I wasn’t ready to go there. He didn’t argue with that, just told me to take all the time I needed.
That was six days ago. Since then, we’ve exchanged exactly three texts. I’ve received twenty more than that. I need time, but the excuses are running out.
Cash bringing up kids so casually hurts. It shows me he wants that one day, and I can’t give it to him. It also scares the shit outta me, wondering how he’s going to react when I tell him that. So I’ve been deflecting—reading the texts, giving the occasional short answer.
Speaking of the devil, my phone vibrates, and I know it’s him.
Cash:
I’m thinking about that date I owe you. Can you be free tonight? I know Aria and Matt are back.
Instead of saying no, I just turn the screen off, ignore it, and make my way over to the grocery store. I didn’t realize how badly I was out of groceries until this morning when I ended up drinking black coffee instead of my normal hazelnut cream-filled coffee.
A toddler wails near the produce, red-faced and dramatic over a denied candy bar, and I watch as the mother tries to soothe the child. When that doesn’t work, she resorts to bartering. My stomach aches.
Just give the damn kid the candy bar, I think. My heart breaks into pieces watching the mother calm the toddler down and the smile on the child’s face when the cashier gives them a sticker.
I ignore the sting in my eyes, feet rooted in place. I pull out my phone to act like I’m texting instead of crying over a toddler.
More texts from Cash have rolled in.
Cash:
I know you want to see me, Darlin’
Cash:
I can sweeten the deal.
Cash:
Forgot about me already?
I don’t want to answer him, because saying yes I want to see him means I have to face the fact that we murdered my husband, and I’m not ready for that. Because if I go over there, there’s not a doubt in my mind that Cash Thornwood will steal my heart.
And I would break him.
How can I sit across from him, lie in bed with him, knowing that it will end?
I swallow hard against the lump in my throat.
No. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I can’t keep scripting someone else’s rejection before they’ve even had the chance to choose.
I’ve spent too many nights after the divorce doing exactly that—imagining futures where I’m always the footnote, the woman who came with too much baggage and not enough pieces to make a family.
I shove the phone into my pocket and try to force my feet to move. Turning, I almost slam into someone else.
“Oh my gosh.”
“I’m sorry.”
The apologies tumble out in unison. Then she laughs, that warm, familiar sound cutting through the store’s hum.
“Halle—”
Tierney, Cash’s mom, is there with her shopping cart half full. Her red hair, just like Cash’s, is pulled into a ponytail.
Her words undo the dam I’ve built, and a tear slips down my cheek. Tierney takes one look at my face and wraps me in a hug. “Hey, baby, it’s okay. What’s going on?”
I hug her back, gathering myself up before releasing her and wiping the tears away. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Thornwood. How are you?”
“Well, I hate to sound rude, but it looks like I’m better than you are,” she says with a smirk.
I chuckle. “You could say that. Just … trying to take it all one day at a time lately. This is my first day off since Aria and Matt got home.”
“Is that why Cash has been moping around the ranch like a sad puppy?” she asks before giving me a pointed look.
I know that look—the mom look. The one that sees right through the armor.
“W–what?” I ask, already feeling heat creep up my neck.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t understand what I said, Halle. I know you two have a thing.”
The words hit like a splash of cold creek water. Heat floods my face so fast I’m convinced it must glow under these awful lights.
“Oh my God.”
She grins, wide and unrepentant, the kind of grin that probably gets her into—and out of—trouble. “So it is true.”
“No!” I blurt, far too quickly. Then I wince, gripping the cart handle like a lifeline. “I mean … I don’t …”
Tierney laughs so hard she has to steady herself on her cart. It eases something tight in my chest, even if just for a second.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“I am so sorry,” I mumble, mortified.
“What are you apologizing for? He’s my son, yes, but he’s also an adult.”
“When you say it like that …”
She sobers a little, but the warmth stays. “I know my son, and believe me … He wouldn’t pay bar prices for beer every night just to get a tongue lashing from Aria or Matt. I knew when you came back and he started spending more time up there it was only a matter of time.”
I blink, stunned. “You knew this would happen?”
“Not entirely … but the signs were clear with him. Then Colt ratted you both out when he saw y’all kiss, as if he was a kid who’s never seen two people kiss. We all got a good laugh.”
“I … I was so busy in my own world that I didn’t even think if anyone else noticed or not,” I admit quietly.
Tierney leans against her cart, her expression softening. “And that’s okay. That’s what love does to you.”
I freeze. Love? Do I love Cash Thornwood? No … I can’t love him.
“I do think you’re good for Cash … despite the age gap.”
“Mrs. Thornwood, to be honest … I don’t think I’m good for Cash.” My voice cracks.
She raises an eyebrow. “Is that so? What makes you say that? If anything, he’s not good enough for you.”
“I won’t be the one he settles down with,” I admit.
“How do you know that?”
“Because we would never have a big family.”
“You don’t know that’s what he wants,” she says gently.
“Most people do.”
“Most people.” She nods thoughtfully, as if weighing the words against a lifetime of knowing her son. “Maybe. But Cash has never been most people. And if I know him half as well as I think I do, he’s going to surprise you.”
I stare at her, heart pounding. “What do you mean?”
“Cash? He’s never cared about what someone could give him.
” She shrugs, a proud little smile tugging at her lips.
“He’s always seen who they really are—their heart, their grit, how they show up when the world’s on fire.
Just like Eli, really—they can be completely oblivious sometimes.
It may take him a moment, but he finds a way to see the whole person, not just the things they want everyone to see. ”
“I have to tell him,” I say finally.
“Yeah,” Tierney agrees. “You do.”
“And what if he walks away?”
The question hangs there because I don’t know what to say.
Then she answers. “Then he wasn’t your person, Halle. But I don’t think that’s how this story ends.”
She reaches into her cart and pulls out a fresh loaf of sourdough, offering it to me with a smile. “You know … when I got to Cedarbrook, things weren’t always simple for me and Eli either. I put that man through hell before I realized I didn’t have to face my past alone.”
“I didn’t know …” I whisper.
“Most people don’t.” She shrugs. “I spent years thinking—when I ran from everything—that I was failing my family, that it meant I failed. It took a long time—and a lot of lonely nights on the porch watching the stars or listening to Ben—to realize those aren’t the same thing.”
I nod slowly, understanding what she’s saying. “They’re not.”
“No.” She points gently at me. “And neither is your body, sweetheart. It doesn’t define your worth or what you can build with the right man. Scars tell stories of survival, even if they aren’t ones everyone can see.”
I blink hard, refusing to cry in the middle of the aisle again.
Tierney pulls me into another hug, this one longer, motherly. I sink into it.
When she steps back, she smiles. “If you ever need anything, and I mean anything—a listening ear, a strong cup of tea—you call me.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I mean it.” She squeezes my hand once more. “And if my son does something spectacularly stupid …”
I manage a watery laugh. “I will let you know.”
“Atta girl.” Her grin is pure mischief.
We say our goodbyes a few minutes later, carts rolling in opposite directions. But her words follow me like a shadow all the way through checkout and out to my car.
He’s going to surprise you.
By the time I get home, the ice cream in my bag has begun to soften at the edges. I unpack on autopilot: milk and eggs in the fridge, frozen vegetables tucked away, cereal lined up neatly in the pantry, coffee grounds beside the maker.
The house is quiet except for the soft thuds of cabinet doors and the hum of the refrigerator. Usually, I crave this silence. Today, it just makes me feel antsy. My phone sits on the counter, screen dark but full of unanswered questions.
I pick it up, and read Cash’s messages again.
Tierney’s voice echoes in my head.
He’s going to surprise you.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
There’s only one way to find out.
My thumbs hover over the keyboard. Delete. Rewrite. Delete again. Finally, before I can overthink it …
Me:
Tonight sounds good.
Three dots appear almost instantly, and my heart beats hard against my ribs.
Cash:
You finally texted back! About damn time.
Cash:
Be at the ranch at 6?
A smile sneaks onto my face.
Me:
See you then.
Cash:
Looking forward to it, Darlin’.
This still isn’t simple. I’m still scared—scared of the vulnerability, the what-ifs, the possibility of another heartbreak in a town where everyone knows your business.
I don’t know if I’ll tell him everything tonight, or if the words will stick in my throat. I don’t even know if he’ll stay once the full truth spills out.
But for the first time in a long time, I’m willing to find out.