29. Halle
HALLE
The gavel cracks in the nearly empty courtroom. I sit there for a long second, staring at the judge’s retreating back, the echo still ringing in my ears.
Divorced.
The past week or so blur in my mind as I gather my purse and step out into the sticky Dallas humidity. After the date with Cash, I’d told Aria and Matt I needed to handle everything here.
The house. The lawyer. Loose ends that felt more like unraveling threads of a life I no longer wanted.
I’d decided to sell the house—that way I get half the money for it at least. I spent days boxing up what I wanted to take to Cedarbrook and separating Zach’s things into piles that took up more room than it was all worth. His parents could deal with that shit.
His abandoned clothes still carry the faint scent of his cologne, the smell souring the entire master closet. Then I had to deal with the realtor, walk-through appraisals, signing papers, nodding through market analysis while the walls of our old home echoed with every argument and broken promise.
The hardest part had been the nursery.
I’d sat on the floor for hours, folding tiny onesies and wrapping baby blankets around the few toys we’d bought before everything fell apart.
But when I finally loaded everything into my car and delivered it to the women’s shelter, the quiet gratitude on those mothers’ faces had cracked something open inside me.
Not fully healing me, but instead giving me a small fragile piece of relief.
Those blankets would wrap babies. Those clothes would clothe families who needed them more than my ghosts did.
Two emotional, exhausting weeks in Dallas, and it all came down to Zach’s lawyer mumbling about “uncontested” and “lack of response.” The judge hadn’t even blinked.
I got half of the profits from the house sale, and everything that was mine that I asked for.
It was all I wanted.
My phone buzzes with a text from Zach’s mother as I cross the parking lot.
Patricia:
We reported him missing three days ago. No one has heard from him. If you know anything—
I don’t bother reading the rest. Instead, I pull out the credit card statements his lawyer reluctantly forwarded. One-way flight to Costa Rica booked the day before the first court date. I almost laughed.
I’m not sure how Dawson and Miranda pulled that off, but I know better than to ask questions.
I shove the phone away and hop in my car that’s packed to the brim with boxes.
Before I start the car, I pull out the last thing I haven’t dealt with—Grandpa Ben’s letter. The envelope is starting to show wear around the edges from how many times I’ve traced my fingers over my name in his shaky handwriting.
I didn’t have the courage to open it when Rhett gave it to me, or during the packing. But maybe with this chapter closed, I do.
I slide the paper out and unfold it slowly, my hands shaking slightly.
Halle Girl,
If you’re reading this, that means I’m gone.
I wanted you to know a few things. I know about the baby.
I know about the doctors and what they took from you.
I saw it in your eyes every time you visited the ranch after coming home.
But I saw you losing yourself long before you lost that baby.
Zach was no good for you and I’m glad you’re leaving that sorry excuse for a man.
A real man wouldn’t run from your scars—he would worship the woman strong enough to carry them.
He would stand in the fire with you and never flinch. Don’t settle for less.
That house of your grandma’s is yours—build something beautiful with it. And if Cash finally pulls his head out of his stubborn ass, give him a chance. I looked at his grandmother the same way he looks at you. Don’t let that kind of love go.
Love you more than all the stars,
Grandpa Ben
Tears slip down my cheeks before I can stop them. A raw sob catches in my throat, honest and unguarded. He’d known. All this time, through every visit, every forced smile, he’d seen the cracks and loved me anyway.
The words wrap around the broken pieces inside me like a warm blanket. I press the letter to my chest and let myself cry until the ache eases into something softer—hope.
When the tears finally slow, I wipe my face and text Aunt Aria.
Me:
Court’s done. Divorce finalized. Zach didn’t show. I’m coming home now. Let me know if Cash shows up at the bar, okay? Don’t tell him I’m on my way.
Her reply comes almost immediately.
Aria:
Thank God. The place misses you. I’ll keep an eye out. Drive safe.
Turning the key over, I take off to the interstate that leads back home. The whole way, Grandpa Ben’s words ingrain themself into my brain. And I know, without a doubt, Cash is that man. Part of me has always kind of known he is, the rest was just too scared to hope.
Not anymore.
I fly down the highway, praying I don’t have to deal with too much traffic to add time to this six-hour drive.
Exhaustion pulls at me, but so does anticipation.
Two weeks. Fourteen days of silence and distance.
I need to see him, even if it’s just to remind myself that something good survived the wreckage of everything with Zach.
By the time I pull onto the road The Bar is on, it’s nearly 11 p.m. The neon sign flickers softly in the distance, casting red across the wet pavement.
I’m home.
I text Aria again.
Me:
Is he there?
Aria:
Still sitting at the end of the bar. You coming?
Me:
Yeah. Don’t tell him. Be there in 5
I park around back, out of sight, and check my reflection in the rearview mirror. Tired eyes, frizzy hair, but no mascara streaks. Good enough. I touch up my lipstick, grab my bag, and slip through the back door.
My gaze locks on the broad shoulders hunched at the far end of the bar. Cash. Whiskey glass in hand, eyes not really landing on one particular thing.
Aria catches my eye from behind the bar and gives me a small, knowing smile before disappearing into the back. I take a breath, heart hammering, and walk toward him on quiet boots.
He doesn’t hear me at first. I stop just behind his stool, close enough to smell the faint remains of his cologne mixed with hay. My chest tightens with everything I’ve been holding back for two weeks.
The grief. The relief. The want.
I reach out and tap his shoulder gently.
Cash turns, and the moment his eyes meet mine, the whole world narrows to just us. Surprise flickers across his face, and his glass thumps softly onto the bar. He pivots fully on the stool, knees parting as if instinctively making room for me.
“Halle,” he breathes, as if he’s seen a ghost.
I smile, small and tired. “Hey, stranger. Miss me?”
I step into the space between his legs without hesitation, wrapping my arms around his neck. He braces one hand on the bar behind him, the other coming up to settle at my waist.
“Every damn second,” he murmurs, that confident, crooked smile tugging at his lips. His thumb brushes the curve of my hip through my shirt, grounding me. “Thought you might’ve decided to stay gone. Had half a mind to ride to Dallas and drag you home myself.”
A soft laugh escapes me. “Divorce is done. Zach didn’t even show up. He’s in Costa Rica, apparently.” I give him a pointed look. “It’s all over.”
He smirks, knowing that Zach is buried somewhere deep in a forest. Then, his eyes darken. “So, what does that mean for me, Halle?”
I lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth, tasting the faint bite of whiskey. “You still looking for a girlfriend?”
His hand tightens at my waist. “Hell, I’ve been waiting on you since the day you came back to Cedarbrook all those months ago.”
I kiss him again—slow, sweet at first, pouring in every unsaid thing from the last two weeks.
The grief I carried alone. The relief of being free.
The want that had grown louder with every mile.
Cash kisses me back like I’m oxygen—like he’s been starving for this.
When we finally break apart, breathing each other in, Aria whistles from the back hallway.
Cash’s lips curve into that rare, full smile I love so much.
“Welcome home, Darlin’,” he says against my lips, voice low enough that only I can hear.
I rest my forehead against his, letting the warmth of him chase away the last of my doubts. “I am home.”
The bar fades around us—the clack of pool balls, the low murmur of voices. For the first time in years, the future doesn’t feel like something to survive. Instead, it’s something I’m looking forward to.
Aria reappears with two fresh drinks, sliding them across the bar with a wink. “On the house. Looks like you two have some catching up to do.”
Cash doesn’t let me go as he reaches for the glasses, keeping me tucked between his legs. “Damn right we do.”
And for the first time in forever, I let myself believe I might actually be safe in someone’s hands.