Acen’s face drained of color.Heopened his mouth, then closed it, searching for words that didn’t exist.Hischest rose and fell in short, sharp breaths.
“I didn’t know,” he whispered finally, voice breaking on the syllables.
“You weren’t here,” she said, not cruel, just hollow.“AndBrianawas.Fora few weeks, at least, until she left for college too.Andshe knew.Shefigured it out and made it clear that ifIever tried to tell anyone what she’d done to break us up, she’d spread lies about me all over town.ThatIwas reckless.ThatIwas trying to trap you.Iwas grieving and alone and so full of shame thatIjust… shut down.Icanceled my college plans.Istayed here.AndIstopped letting anyone in.”
The silence that followed was suffocating.Eventhe crickets seemed to hush, the whole riverbank leaning in to listen.
Acen’s throat worked as he swallowed, his fists curling at his sides.Anger, hot and helpless, burned in his veins.Angerat himself for not being there.AngeratBrianafor twisting everything pure into something rotten.
Finally, he stepped forward.Gently.Likeapproaching a skittish deer.
“I should’ve come back sooner,” he said, his voice thick.“Ishould’ve asked questions.Ishould’ve fought for us.”Hereached out and touched her cheek.“Didyou ever tellRiley?”
She nodded.“Afew years ago.Hewas pretty pissedI’dkept it from him all that time.”
“I’m so sorry.IknowI’vesaid that multiple times already.”
“You didn’t know.”
“ButIdo now.”Hisvoice cracked.“Rose,I’mso sorry.Forall of it.Forbeing blind, for leaving, for not giving you a reason to believe in me.”
She looked at him then, really looked—at the boy she’d loved and the man he’d become.Hiseyes were rimmed with unshed tears, his jaw tight with regret.Andher own eyes stung, the tears she’d been holding back threatening to spill.
“I didn’t want your pity,” she whispered.
He reached for her hand, slow and careful.
“I’m not giving you pity,” he said.Hisvoice was firm now, steady.“I’mgiving you the truth.Ilove you.Inever stopped loving you.”
The words soaked into her like rain after a drought, seeping deep into soil that had long since cracked.Fora heartbeat, she let herself imagine it—that love was enough, that it could patch over the past like a quilt over worn boards.
But love wasn’t enough—not by itself.
“Then help me,” she said, her voice low but fierce.“Helpme take my life back.Helpme take her down.”
Acen squeezed her hand, his grip warm and solid, grounding her against the storm that still raged inside.
“Whatever you need,” he said.
The dock groaned beneath their weight, the river whispering against the pilings.Overhead, the first scatter of raindrops fell, soft against the water, darkening the planks.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
Rose woke with a clarity she hadn’t felt in years.
For so long, her pain had been something private.She’dlived with it hidden under layers of baked goods, hometown obligations, stubborn pride, and the rhythm of ordinary days.Itwas safer that way.PickwickBendwas a town where nothing stayed quiet for long.
But now, her secret wasn’t buried anymore—not completely.Acenknew.Somethinghe’d had every right to know all those years ago, but she’d been too young and scared to tell him.
The fear of whatBrianamight do.Whatshe had already started doing.Thatburned hotter than the shame itself.Rosehad kept her silence for so long, but she wasn’t naïve.Brianawasn’t bluffing.Shewas a woman who thrived on attention, on twisting stories into something sharp enough to cut.AndifBrianadecided to makeRose’ssecret public?Thewhole town would know before sundown, whispered between church pews and repeated at thePigglyWigglycheckout line.
Rose was done hiding.Butbeing done hiding and being ready to faceBriana’sbrand of cruelty weren’t the same thing.Thewhole town didn’t need to know that part of her story.
She dressed quickly, needing movement, needing distraction.Thecoffee shop gave her both.Bythe time the sun lifted over the horizon, she was unlocking the back door, setting out muffins, and forcing herself into the comfort of routine.Thebell above the front door chimed often—farmers in for their morning caffeine, teachers with lesson plans tucked under their arms, retirees who lingered just to talk.
It was almost enough to keep her mind busy.Almost.
The bell rang again, and this time it wasn’t a customer.
