Before I can answer, Mercy comes racing back with a stack of colorful drawings clutched in her arms. “I brought all the good ones!” I smile as Mercy grabs Jaxon’s hand and tugs him toward the living room. “Come on! I’ll show you my best ones.”
Jaxon lets her pull him away, glancing back at me with a soft grin before they settle on the couch. I stay at the table for a minute and just watch them. Mercy spreads her drawings across the coffee table, talking a mile a minute as she points at each one. Jaxon leans forward, elbows on his knees, giving her every bit of his attention. He asks questions about the pictures, laughs when she tells him stories behind them, and even points out little details she drew that make her beam with pride.
Seeing them like that—heads close together, Mercy’s legs swinging happily—makes my chest ache in the best possible way. I finally stand up and start clearing the table, scrape the leftover food into the trash, stack the plates, and carry everything to the sink. The warm water runs over my hands while I rinse the dishes, but my eyes keep drifting back to the living room.
Mercy holds up a drawing of the bakery with bright yellow cookies in the window. Jaxon says something that makes her giggle loudly. I dry my hands on a towel and lean against the counter, just watching. He is so patient with her, so natural. It scares me how much I want this to work. Part of me still waits for him to disappear again, but another part—the bigger part tonight—hopes he really means it when he says he’s all in.
Because with as many ups and downs as we've had, I might just give up if he lets me down again. But right now the way things are, it feels like my heart is healing. Like that big gulp of air your lungs take in when you've been under water for too long and you need to breathe. It's a good feeling I'd like to cling to for as long as possible.
I put the last plate in the drainer and wipe down the table. When I look up again, Jaxon catches my eye across the room and gives me a small, private smile that makes my stomach flutter. I smile back, softer than I meant to. This feels good. Scary, but really good.
29
JAXON
Isit in the packed town hall with my arm wrapped tight around Emily’s shoulders. She leans into me, too tense for her own good. Her grip on my thigh is crushing, but she's got a lot riding on this. I can see why she'd be so stressed. Her parents can see that too, which is why they showed up too, along with Karen and Leah and half the crew from Cole and Son's.
The room buzzes with low voices and shuffling papers. Victor Langford sits across the aisle looking smug, surrounded by his lawyers and a couple of council members who always seem to side with him. I keep my expression calm, but inside, my blood is running hot.
We wait through the usual boring stuff—road repairs, zoning complaints, the normal small-town agenda. Every minute that passes makes Emily breathe a little faster. I rub my thumb gently on her arm, trying to calm her without saying anything. She’s been through enough already. This meeting feels like the last stand for both of us.
Finally, the mayor calls Emily’s name. She stands up slowly, and I rise right beside her, keeping my arm around her waist. She walks to the podium with me right there. The microphone squeaks when she adjusts it. For a second she stares at the crowd with her lips pursed tightly. And when she tries to speak, her voice cracks.
“This bakery… it’s not just a business to me,” she starts, and I can see the tears welling up in her eyes so quickly. “I built it from nothing after my daughter was born. It kept me going when everything else fell apart. It’s where I taught myself to be strong again. Victor Langford has done everything he can to rip it away from me—fake inspections, delays, pressure to sell. I don’t know why he's been fighting so dirty, but I know I’m not the only one he’s hurting.”
Her voice breaks completely and the tears spill over. She tries to keep going but can’t, so I step closer, hand resting on her lower back, and take over without missing a beat.
“Emily’s telling the truth,” I say calmly into the mic. “Victor Langford has been laundering money through fake development projects. He’s been cutting corners on safety for years, putting up buildings that shouldn’t pass inspection. And we have proof now.”
I pull out my phone and hold it up even though the screen isn’t visible to everyone. “One of our construction vehicles had a dash cam running the night of the big fire at our job site. It caught a car with Langford Development Group plates pulling up minutes before the flames started. The driver got out, did something near the fuel tanks, then left right before it all went up. We turned that footage over to the police two days ago.”
The room explodes. People start shouting. Chairs scrape back.
"And I've turned over the evidence to the authorities too, so—" More chaos continues to grow, pushing the volume so high, there's no point in speaking. Reporters jump up, cameras flashing in my face. Questions fly from every direction.
“Is Langford under investigation?”
“Will there be arrests?”
Langford squirms in his seat, glancing around frantically. He isn't sure if he should believe me right now. Otherwise, he'd be on his feet ditching this place. But he has no clue he should really be scared.
I raise my hand, hoping they quiet down, and keep talking. “The police told me they’re making an arrest any day now. We’re asking the council to delay any vote on these redevelopment plans until that happens. Give us time to get the full truth out.”
More flashing lights and angry voices join in. With this much upheaval, maybe those business owners who cowered so quickly will stand and fight with us now. Beaufort doesn’t deserve some shady development where people could get hurt. And these people deserve their property back. I bet with a little communication and pressure, they could all get their business back too.
The council leader leans into his microphone. “We appreciate the information, Mr. Cole, but we have a schedule. We’re calling the vote now.”
My stomach drops. Emily’s hand finds mine and squeezes hard. I feel her shaking as Langford smirks from his seat like he already won. But when I look at my dad, who's sitting boldly with his shoulders squared and his chest puffed out—sober forthe first time since I got home—I know all my hard work and effort aren’t for nothing.
The council leader picks up the paper and reads the motion out loud. Then he looks at the row of council members and starts calling names.
“Councilmember Reynolds?”
“No.”
“Councilmember Hayes?”
“No.”
